You see True Bard Navesi Daerthon, Editor of the First Land Herald, a Kaldar.
She has an angular face, sharp black eyes and a straight nose. Her white hair is short and thick, and is worn loose. She has pale skin and a lean, precisely composed figure.
She is tall for a Kaldar.
She appears to be an adult.
She is wearing an ethereal white pendant that seems to elude the eye, a high-collared black arzumodine jacket inset with gossamer panels, a crisp white Imperial weave shirt, a knotwork icesteel wedding band, a tarnished platinum ring inset with a brilliant red ruby, a sleek black leather belt with a nijare hanging from it, some finely-woven black wool trousers and a pair of raven-winged boots of stiff black leather.
Navesi was born in western Zoluren, near Wolf Clan, where her parents had built a magnificent but out-of-the-way manor. Her father, reputedly a brilliant Trader, made his fortune in wine and luxury goods and was ever seeking to advance himself within Zoluren society. Navesi was naturally highly trained in all the subjects a wealthy merchant's daughter should know, and then some, including but not limited to mathematics, history, philosophy, magical theory, art, poetry, and music. Unfortunately, some event or catastrophe resulted in her father's death when she was only 17, and the family home and belongings were shortly thereafter claimed by debtors. She was sent out into the world to re-make the family's fortune and provide for her mother and two younger siblings.
Shortly after joining the Bard guild in the Crossing, Navesi was encouraged by friends to begin a chronicle of the events of the province, considering none such existed. She had both a passion for observing history unfold and felt it was her duty as a Bard to become a record-keeper. Thus was born the First Land Herald, a newsletter for Zoluren, the "first land." She threw herself into her work diligently and eventually gained recognition from Prince Belirendrick IV for her efforts, and she later struck a deal with the imps to publish her paper throughout the provinces.
More recently, Navesi banded together with Perune, Saragos, and Mazrian to found the Anduwen Watch, a small organization whose purpose is to protect civilization from existential threats. The group has so far orchestrated attacks on Maelshyve and research that led to her death, as well as Elemental experiments combining the expertise of Warrior Mages and Bards in order to perform never before seen feats, such as opening a portal to the Plane of Electricity.
Navesi is well known for her rigid, exacting temperament and fastidious attention to detail, skills that serve her well as a writer but can be intimidating in person. However, her friends do say that she softens some in time and in privacy. She is a devout follower of the Thirteen, abhors Necromancy, and seriously frowns upon both Sorcery and sorcerous casting. Her brother, Volohir, is sometimes described as her opposite, possessing an impish and carefree attitude, though the two of them still have a close relationship.
434. Helped organize an experimental attempt to open a portal to the Plane of Electricity. Successfully forced harmonic convergence on the anomaly created in order to stabilize it and allow the portal to be opened.
433. Helped design and organize an experimental procedure that allowed Warrior Mages and Bards to create a stable Aetheric anomaly that allowed a glimpse into the Plane of Aether and the nature of Aether itself.
430. Assisted in a second assault into Maelshyve's Fortress in order to kill Maelshyve. Wrote the poem 'Ode to Osven' as a result.
428. Struck a deal with the imps of Elanthia for them to publish and distribute the Herald throughout the Five Provinces.
426. Helped organize and lead the successful Raid on Maelshyve's Fortress.
424. Co-founded the Anduwen Watch.
423. Recognized by Prince Belirendrick IV for service to Zoluren in founding and writing the newsletter, the First Land Herald. Was granted the title 'Zoluren's Herald'.
419. Left the Tavern Troupe to pursue more research-based endeavors.
417. Daughter Isava Daerthon born.
416. Married to Saragos Daerthon.
409. Founded the First Land Herald.
409. Joined the Tavern Troupe.
408. Joined the Bard guild.
395. Sister born.
392. Brother Volohir born.
389. Born in western Zoluren.
Ode to Osven
Our noble holy leaders are immutable:
Necromancy is heresy, the greatest sin.
Even if our gods are not entirely scrutable,
it is clear that Their will is herein.
I am the first to declare my hate
for them and their kind, those men of blood and bone,
yet I have for you a tale to relate
which I use to enlighten, not condone.
I met a Necromancer who came from obscurity,
who, invisible, dipped into our affairs,
who would have claimed our own immaturity
was the reason for his veiled cares.
Certainly he was in some ways like all the rest,
I did not get the chance to know him well,
but in one way his difference was manifest:
his battle against the darkest forces of hell.
He delved into the most foul of arts,
he snipped and scissored, knifed his way ahead,
gathered up countless rigored body parts,
and upon the flesh of innocents he fed.
But from his unholy education came the vials —
those potent brews of vital unmaking.
Only through him, despite all our denials,
could we succeed in our most crucial undertaking.
With his help, Ciriasa the vessel was felled.
His alchemy annihilated the demon's connection.
From her Human body Maelshyve was expelled
and we were spared total, absolute subjection.
But this was not the last of what he would do.
Unseen, he stole Ciriasa's cadaver away,
and by his sickening practice, used her tissue
to understand the demon's passageway.
He undertook a total planar evaluation,
learned how she bled into our Abiding plane.
He devised a method for her complete purgation,
to reassert that this was our domain.
He called his device the Philosopher's Knot,
an Arcane creation which by its design
would transform us into planonauts,
blasting through her in a blazing line.
We entered her soul with a dizzying landfall,
surrounded by foreign rules,
ahead a vast, uncanny, repulsive sprawl,
everything changed, down to molecules.
With his device our line punched through her,
the Abiding forcing to her core,
and slowly, slowly we began to undo her,
in an excruciating war.
Though he asked for blood and blackest power,
and the bile rose in our throats,
we were winning, hour by hour,
his knowledge the antidote.
And finally the moment came, the climax,
the device activated at last.
But her ichor surged, and with great cracks,
it broke, useless, our hopes outcast.
Yet, in that moment, Osven soared.
With his knife, his vial, his blood and soul,
somehow, impossibly, the device was restored.
And he was consumed whole.
I can still hear his screams, when I lie at night,
And, too, they are trapped within the device.
I can't quite believe he made things right,
can't deny he paid the ultimate price.
Yes, he was vile and his soul lost,
yet he chose his path, he told me, out of need,
the only way to fight was to pay this cost
to find the weakness of the Centipede.
I can't say that I believe his explanation,
and I urge you not to follow his ways,
yet we've found our fell salvation,
and I'll be grateful for all of my days.