Sauriv

Race: LizardFolk

Class: Druid
Subclass: 
Background: Hermit
Aliases: 
Titles: N/A
Legends:
Faction:
Backstory: Sauriv was born into modest holding, for the lizard folk that is, but still found himself uncomfortable. In the southern swamps near Candlekeep, the rigidness of the holdfasts and the huts felt cramped to Sauriv and he often would venture off into the woods, finding the trees and the creatures of the earth more of a soothing company than the hustle and bustle of the lizard folk. With the lizard folk of his tribe, this seclusion and frequent wandering did not sit well. The Clan Elders accused him of shirking his duties to the tribes and even his parents scolded his journeys as “childish walkabouts”. Despite their complaints, there was nothing actually illegal about what he was doing, and the rigid legal structure of the lizard folk tribes didn’t allow them to pursue any course of justice more than shame and general public discontent. Sauriv was blissfully ignorant of their scorn and continued his journeys into the wilds, unfettered by the scathing eyes of the tribe.

Sauriv wasn’t always alone in his journeys either. One particular ranging saw him working with a local ranger named Olo Shadow to help root out some bandits and criminals who had taken up residence in a dense thicket. Between the ranger’s cunning and Sauriv’s connection with the elements, they made short work of the criminals and formed a cordial bond.

One ranging found Sauriv at a dilapidated set of ruins. He had ventured through this part of the woods in the past and didn’t recall the ruins being there but then again, he never really took the time or interest in human structures, preferring to enjoy the winding game paths of the woods to the cobblestone streets of Neverwinter. It peaked his curiosity though, so he ventured in to explore. The ruins were overgrown and in the center was a small pedestal. On the pedestal rested what appeared to be a ceremonial dagger of ancient lizard folk design. Intrigued, Sauriv grabbed the dagger to inspect it. There was flash of light, the crackling of thunder and a woman’s voice echoed through the ruins:

“As soon as the world becomes shrouded in shadows, a meeting shall bring forth a reunion of companions and they shall either bring upon to doom of all or the salvation of a few. On the cold shores of Salt Marsh, will my true nature be revealed.”

Sauriv awoke in the woods, the ceremonial dagger gone and the ruins nowhere to be seen. The words remained clear in his head and he knew they would not, or rather could not, be forgotten. He knew he could no longer return to his clan, both intrigued and concerned with the ill tidings of this prophecy. Amongst the woman’s words, a name was branded into his mind. A dark name which caused him to wince as if scolded whenever he thought about it: Petra.