Rhienhold is a Dragonborn he, and his father are accomplished Psyonic's of the Emerald Line. His mother and all his other known relatives have Blue and Blue/Silver heritage. His scales and frills are all fawn colored, and each one has every changing spore prints in dark browns and blacks. He prefers to enter minds with direct psyonic exchange and finds language cumbersome and inaccurate.
He is an accomplished author, investigator and cartographer of the Southern Mists. And if he is to be believed, the Southern Mists are a living creature most akin to a giant cloud of spores, which he believes are aware and exist on multiple planes and in multiple times.
He has dedicated his life to understanding, mapping and bonding with the Mists. It is unclear if they reciprocate, but it is clear he is one of the few creatures who travels in peace at their edges. He considers himself a Druidic Ambassador for the needs of the Mists, and the needs of those the Mists interact with.
He is accomplished in Magics of winds, mists, waters, decay and rejuvinations. He is considered the most accomplished cartographer of the regions of the Southern Mists.
He is a soul-brother of Cookie the Otter, and has attempted to model his graces and courtesies on Cookie's perfect manners. But he is also, literally, Spore-Bound to the Southern Mists.
His story is below.
Rhienhold’s mother (Droween Azureine) was the daughter of a successful family of Dragonborn owning a rare books and maps business in Galek. His Grandparents (Otto and Martasa Azureine) are alive and remain in business as owners/proprietors of “Azureine’s Rare Pages”. His relationship with them is difficult due circumstances of his mother and father’s deaths, but loving. His recent minor notoriety in conducting recovery operations from the Mists in the South has to done a good deal to restore his relationship. His mother’s younger brother Yuri - Rhienhold’s Uncle - remains unreconciled and Rhienhold only visits his Otto and Martasa when Yuri will be out. His mother, and her family were all Draconic’s of Blue Heritage.
His father “Ezrin Shiplost” was a Emerald Draconic. He came to Galek as a recent immigrant. A complicated man, he was never forthcoming about his role in the various troubles in his former life, he would simply say: “I was a soldier in a troubled place and time.” He claimed he wished to seek a quiet life. An extremely powerful and gifted psyonic, Ezrin fell in Gamblers and Fixers on games of chance, using his psyonic skills to offer advantages to his employers. After Droween’s Murder and his death - possibly by suicide, some local authorities came to believe Ezrin not just an opportunist and hussler, but may have been the noted war criminal and torturer Ezmeck the Breaker, famed and feared for his use of psyonics to destroy wills and seduce young draconic women
Rhienhold was conceived from “A tryst of wanton fun, and I have no regrets” as his mother would confide to her friends in which Ezrin used his psyonic skills, and a few drops from a potion of unbounded passions, to convert the extremely bookish Droween into “An unbounded love beast, if only for a week.”
Rhienhold, like many Gem Dragons was born almost transparent, and even before he was born was able to enter his mother’s mind and communicate with her directly, clearly and lovingly.
Unlike the extremely eloquent, witty, bookish, always discursive and a slightly “light” Azureine family, Rhienhold was reserved. Even taciturn. An extremely gifted student, he preferred the written word to the spoken word, and maps and illustration over both- and he preferred direct psyonic mental exchanges and became particularly gifted and cartography, taking the rough drawn maps of explorers, and combining it with his ability to enter their minds and record better and more accurately where they had been and what they had done.
He became sought after and respected for his ability to gently extract experiential, locations, events and relevant information from the insane, criminal witnesses and even survivors of madness induced by exposures to the Southern Mists. The mists in particular became an obsession. He published a thin volume examining his theory that mists where in fact some form of living creature, akin to a colony of molds, with rhizomes, fruiting bodies and he believed - and still believes - the ability to enter into congnitive minds and re-organize the ganglia and neurons - turning previously “normal” creatures into hosts conducting tasks for the living Southern Mists.
At just 11 years old (Draconic’s do mature quickly) he was invited to collaborate on research exploring his theories with several leading scholars - and he started down the path he remains on to this day.
But. Just as his skills and world view expanded, he became personally obsessed with finding his father. His mother and family made it clear his father was “very much a Wandering Dragon” He had made no effort to contact his mother, nor him, ever, though Rhienhold was certain this was because his father, likely didn’t know Rhienhold even existed.
While his mother slept, Rhienhold used his growing skills to riffle deeply through her dreams and memories. Eventually finding his father’s name, features, and - to be fair - more details about his parents brief affair than any twelve year old should know. But over the next few months Rhienhold used his spare time for an every wider search for his father. He eventually found a mobster and gambler who knew “Ezrin”,who now was likely now going be the name of “Exarcos” very well. The Mobster was also looking for Rhienhold’s father, as Ezrin/Exarcos owed The Boltward Syndicate a considerable amount of money.
The details of the story at this point are unclear. These points are known.
Rhienhold found his father.
His father refused to engage him as his son.
Rhienhold tried to use his Psyonics to prove it was true.
His father used his considerable skills to see that Rhienhold has been working with The Boltward Syndicate to find him. And nearly killed his son. He would have killed him, but the very same Boltward Syndicate had followed Rhienhard - and moved in to kill or capture Ezrin/Exarcos.
Rhienhold, gravely wounded, physically and psyonically was dumped by the Syndicate at a local infirmary. He survived. But his mental recovery took weeks, and for many days his mother and family were in panic - unable to find him.
Over Rhienhold’s objections the Azureine’s worked with the authorities. They wanted justice. Ezrin/Exarcos got to them first. Nearly everyone believes he came to kill Rhienhold, who understood his psyonic print so well, he knew he would be able to find him again.
But as the fates would have it, Ezrin arrived on a night the family was hosting a poetry reading and salon. For War Veterans.
The resulting Melee was horrific. Two of the Veterans/Poets and the beloved Droween were killed. Rhienhold was gravely wounded - again. And his grandfather was so broken it was months of recovery before he could walk, read and concentrate again.
Ezrin/Exarcos was found in the “booklover’s square” three days later at dawn. Having obviously fallen from a great height. Some speculate friends of the dead veterans killed him. Others believe he tried to use his spectral wings to flee his warrant for murder. He was never very good at using them.
The death was ruled a suicide, which was the preferred choice by corporate interests to minimize any benefit payments which might result from insurance claims.
Rhienhold, blamed himself.
For all of it.
For his mother’s death.
For his father’s death.
His poet friends’ deaths.
His grandfather’s horrific injuries.
His failure was complete.
He dragged himself forward as best he could. Never sleeping. Never speaking. Barely eating. He developed the compensating nervous habit of chewing on his own fingers. He began to chew them so often they began to rot. His habit progressed from obsession to self-mutilation. His entire left hand became a mass of blood, scabs, puss and rot which he chewed and licked without ceasing.
His Uncle and Grandmother fought. His Uncle demanding he be expelled from the family. His Grandmother steadfast in his defense. Rhienhold said nothing. He could hear all their thoughts. And he saw, deeply and truly, his Uncle was now Broken. And that was Rhienhold’s fault too.
Rheinhold resolved to kill himself.
He gathered his notes and journals from so many unfinished interviews with survivors of the South Mists. He took them to the University, he planned to leave them, there, and throw himself from the Tower of Seeing.
But on that day at the University he had visitors.
Lyowyn Mossbringer, extraordinary FeyWild’s Druid. Her partner Lucinda Grimfold and abjuration master, Cookie the Otter, were standing in the doorway. Staring at him.
They had read and discussed at length his recently published work. Cookie the Otter had convinced Lyowyn they just had to go meet this Psyonic Dragonborn - who he believed was right. And if he was right, Rhienhold might be able to help them.
The three famous and powerful citizens stared at the young, and very broken Dragonborn. They stared at him as he chewed on his own fingers and lapped at his own blood and puss.
Lyowyn charmed him and made him tell her everything.
Lucinda had heard about the horrible incidents. One of the dead warrior poets had once served with her.
Cookie placed a warding on Rheinhold’s own hands which made them taste so horrific to himself, that to this day he can not pick up a piece of toast without smearing it with distaste. He developed the habit of eating everything with the tip of a tiny knife.
They took him back to their home. Lucinda called on the family at Azurine’s Rare Pages and assured them Rhienhard was unharmed, but very unwell. His Uncle was the only one there, and was, as he often is, unpleasant. Telling them “My Nephew is Born of Rot, Has Brought Rot to our Home, and May he Chew himself apart and Rot FOREVER!”
Lyowyn cast spells to make Rhienhold sleep. He had not slept in weeks. He went under into a deep land of dreams and stayed there for a very long time. Cookie served as his nursemaid, and became fascinated and very fatherly toward this strange young Dragonborn, who - had never had a father, and just like Cookie himself - had clearly suffered irreparable family trauma. They were two children who had both witnessed the killing of their Mothers.
In a sense Cookie and Rhienhold are brothers. From the sad and lonely brotherhood of creatures who witnessed their own orphaning.
Cookie believed Lyowyn should take Rhienhold as a student. But Lyowyn said now. She was certain no Dragonborn would ever be a worthy Druid in the Feywild traditions. It just wasn’t possible. Lucinda ruled out making him into a warrior. While many Dragonborn were in the ranks of the loyal orders, Rhienhard was very small and slight for a dragonborn, and obviously not well suited to mentally coping with Carnage.
But all three of the life-friends agreed there had to be a place for someone so young, and clearly gifted in strange ways.
And then something, Otter believes the Southern Mists themselves, intervened. While entering his third day of sleeping, his gnawed left hand became scabbed over completely, but for a strange and rising black node. The node rose for hours. Otter watched it, certain it was important and confident his abortions would protect the sleeping boy. And then the Node became a Boil. The Boil developed a whitehead. The whitehead ruptured and from the rupture came Mist. Tendrils of Mist. Otter called his life friends to watch. And they watched as the Mists writhed like snakes up the young Draconic’s arms, around his neck and then slid, every so slowly and gently into his sleeping mouth and nose. Each inhale he drew in more. Until like ants marching from a hill to a feeding source the black boil eased and shrank and withdrew.
It happened in less than a minute. From Rupture to Inhalation to Easing. The three of them watched entranced.
And then Rhienhold awoke. And his eyes were no longer a clear white. They were the fawn and earthy color of fungus. And as they watched his scales and frills darkened from their nearly clear and pale whitish color to a earthy fawn. And to no ones surprise the scabs on his left hand fell away. And clean brown draconic scales, laces with fascinating patterns which looked like spore prints of frilled and gilled mushrooms covered each plate of his hand.
Over the next few months this strange partnering grew to cover his entire body. His plates and scales are like no other Dragonborn. Though he remains an Emerald Dragonborn in his heart and mind, on his surface his appears like a Maori, with intricate tiny prints in dark browns and blacks overlayed on a background of fawn.
And he was obsessed with being with the mists. Of mapping the mists. Of serving to help the mists be understood, and welcomed, and free.
“They are here to preserve us. Preserve the true cycle of us. Preserve the balance for us. Bring us Treasures. Take away the surplus when we have excess. Provide us with surpise when we are wanting.”
And the three friends helped him as best they could. Lucinda gave him basic martial training. Lyowyn as best she could shared with him traditions of DruidCraft, though it was clear he love Feywild Life and his obsession with Spores, Rot and Cycles were vastly different. And Cookie the Otter and Rhiehold became, quite simply, brothers.
Helping each other understand themselves, more than providing anything more practical and compelling.
Rhienhold resumed his work with the University. Resume his work interviewing an psyonically entering those who had survived encounters with the Mists. And after a year, with little fanfare and almost no support he told his University colleagues, his found friends, his brother Otter and his beloved Grandparents he would simply have to leave them now, and travel as far south as can be travelled. He was certain the Southern Mists were not, in themselves evil. No more than a fungus that consumes a fallen tree is evil. No more than the bacteria that infects a wound is evil. The Southern Mists are a living creature with needs, and perhaps wants and ideas.
Nearly 6 years have passed. Rhienhold is, without anyone being able to argue the most accomplished cartographer and studier of the edges of the Southern Mists. He maintains frequent and robust correspondence with Cookie the Otter, and they consider each other true brothers, though they have not seen each other in many years.
Living at the edge of the mists has made Rhienhold even more suspect of any spoken communication. Though he has developed a strange affinity for Knolls, and their gross barking language. Knolls, somehow have developed a symbiotic relationship with Mists. And so, for that matter has Rhienhold. He can enter them for days at a time, understands them and brings them feedings and offerings. They likewise will allow him to recover the lost belongings and artifacts of those they Mists have welcomed home to their cycles.
To the villages in the south Rhienhold has become a strange and legendary figure. A true folk hero. When loved ones are lost to the Mists, mentally or physically, Rhienhold is called to do what he can to re-unite them. Or recover what is left. And he does so.
Rhienhold continues to publish detailed monographs, maps and his “findings” about the Mists. But they have become increasingly confusing works. Some even describe them as “insane ramblings of lunatic with a Mist Rotted Mind.” Rhienhold points out that it is very very difficult to translate the psyonic connected exchanges between a Draconic of Mixed Heritage and a Continent Spanning Airborne Super Fungus.
“I don’t really have any words to capture the thought process of the Mists. But the Mists do think. In a sense. Or perhaps it’s better to just say that they experience what is happening, both in the past and present, both here and in other places and planes, at all times, all at once. I do my best to stay at peace an in the good graces of HIM. HE needs me for somethings, but I can not really understand what. Yet. But he may also just be waiting for the right moment to absorb me. Which if fine too. It has been a free ride. I paid nothing to get on the ride. I will be charged nothing to leave. And I am enjoying our blasto-vations/conversations in the between time-spaces, It-We are fine/not fine with the confusion others have with out relationships. It/they/we are complicated.”
While his writings have become increasingly difficult for anyone to understand, his cartographic work and maps of the Misted South are much in demand and without equal.
Cookie the Otter of course insisted he become a member of the Company.
