The Druid

Tsuen was founded in a time before memory; so long ago, not even the Elves can guess which age. Its size has fluctuated wildly over the millennia, from being a small town to large city and back again, but it has almost always served as a border town for the Dales.

Being a border town, Tsuen has a bloody history, suffering frequent raids and the occasional sacking. Part of the reason why is the Elves unorthodox style of defense. Whereas the Humans build high and thick walls, and the Dwarves dig deep and hide behind thick doors, the Elves would melt back into the forest and simply give the city to the aggressors. From there, they would strike out hard and fast, killing patrols and disrupting supply lines, before again melting into the forests with minimal losses. This would continue until until the attackers were either broken or decided to leave. The city might suffer some damage, but nothing a few years of tender loving care couldn't fix.

Something changed, however. It isn't known whether the elders at the time were simply getting old and cautious, or whether they could smell a change in the air, but it was decided that the ancient city of Tsuen needed a border wall. Something the Elves could hide behind, when the end-days came and even their precious forest was no longer safe.

Nearly a century went into its conception and planning. The Elves of Tsuen, even more-so than their southern countrymen, are patient and meticulous creatures. Plans were drawn and redrawn and ancient magic was researched and refined. All that was left was a gatekeeper. They needed someone who had the skills and the will and the temperament to grow and control something as ambitious as the walls of Tsuen.

It was a long search. Elves from all over were contacted and tested. Eventually though, a child was born on a Day of Omen, and the Elves, in their wisdom, said that the signs have aligned and decided the search was over. This was Brasson Faelyn, born in 1023E on the day Tsar fell to the First Righteous March.

The wall of Tsuen was planted the same day.

Brasson was groomed for the role of Gatekeeper of Tsuen. From the moment he could walk, he was amongst his trees, learning their names and getting to know them. This friendship deepened as he came into his druidic powers, and he bonded with the Trees of his Wall in a way only druids can. He guided their growth and development, and they in turn guided his.

The wall was complete by roughly his 250th year, and Brasson was introduced to his second family - the soldiers of Tsuen.

Together, they formed the passages and rooms that the military needed for the successful defence of their city. Hallways, rooms, archers nests and murder holes all took shape, and soon the Walls of Tsuen took on a different feeling - that of a young family with a house full of children. They laughed and played together; they bled and cried together. The Walls of Tsuen soon became a place steeped in strong memories and even stronger emotions

Slightly over 500 years later, an ancient Elf stands leaning against the inside wall of a tree. His body is coated liberally with his druidic magic and his mind is joined with that of his life long friends. His hands are dancing across the wood, giving commands and making movements faster than the trees would be able to by themselves. Before him lies an army of Orcs. Behind him lies the burnt bones of his once proud people, his walls unable to protect them against foes who can simply teleport. To either side are halls filled with Elvish blood and tears. Beneath him is a monstrosity made from the remains of his family. He has trapped it there - he cannot allow them to suffer the indignity of having their remains used to desecrate the lands they loved, but neither can he bring himself to destroy them. Instead, he stands in stalemate, endlessly searching for a resolution as his sanity slowly drains away. In his darkest moments, he wishes that the invading Devils had killed him like they had all the others, but he knows in his heart that this torment was exactly why he was spared.

"LEAVE! THEY ARE STILL MY RESPONSIBILITY! I WILL PROTECT THEM!" he screams at you, as you enter the room

Today, Brasson is a sad wreck of a man. After having been worn down and captured by The Rotton Fist and their leaders, he spends most of his time either sleeping or crying and simply ignores all attempts to communicate with him. There is talk of sending him to Dejune, where perhaps Lady Maya could take responsibility for him, but at roughly 770 years old no one thinks that he can survive being taken away from the life-link he has with his trees, which seem to be sustaining him beyond what is normal for an elf.

With his death unlikely to be far away and no obvious successor at hand, the fate of the Wall of Tsuen is up in the air

In the end the Warden just shrugs, trusting that a solution will present itself.