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D&D Campaign - World of Urun 
D&D Campaign Character - Kalfethia, Sorceress of the Enclave. 
***(Tribute image/song for Nataly1q2w3e4r5t)***



**Important Note: For the image, I decided to depict Kalfethia at a much happier time of her life. A time before she was ravaged by the unrelenting claws of tragedy. 




Working at his desk at the Mage‘s Enclave, the Master Arch-mage and Grand Seer of Talbrin, Langwellan, heard a knock at his door.

Langwellan: “Enter!” 

Langwellan’s longtime steward and old friend, Edgar Tivett, entered the Arch-Mage’s quarters.

Langwellan: “Well, well, it’s Mr. Tivett, always a pleasure to see you my friend!”

Edgar Tivett: “It always is, my old friend.” he replied in a joking manner, grinning from ear to ear.

Edgar Tivett: “I have brought you the requested documents for the upcoming enclave meeting, Langwellan.”

Langwellan: “Excellent! Just put them on a less cluttered part of my desk. I’ll find them later.”

Edgar Tivett: “There is no doubt that you command extraordinary power, my friend. However, even that task may beyond your extensive abilities, master mage.” he said in a jesting tone.

Langwellan: “There is always hope, my friend!” Langwellan retorted.

Within moments, Edgar Tivett’s smile soon faded, replaced by a look of concern. Noticing this, Langwellan spoke.

Langwellan: “Is there something on your mind, Edgar?”

Edgar Tivett: “Yes, Langwellan. May I share a thought?”

The Arch-Mage, Langwellan, motioned for his friend to pull up a nearby chair and take a seat. Edgar did so promptly.
 
Langwellan: “ We have been friends for over three decades, Edgar. I value your thoughts, old friend. Please speak.”

Edgar Tivett: “I was thinking of Kalfethia. It’s not like her to miss an enclave meeting, much less three in a row. She has always been passionate about her duties here, but now she has me worried with her continued absences. There aren’t many members in the enclave to begin with, and to lose Kalfethia, one of the few here to possess a benign and compassionate soul coupled with the ability to wield impressive arcane magics, would be catastrophic for the enclave.”
 
Langwellan: “You needn’t remind me of her kindhearted nature and significant ability, Edgar. I practically raised her.”  Langwellan replied quickly.

Edgar Tivett: “Yes, you are right, old friend.” Edgar replied in an apologetic tone.

Edgar continued to speak. 

Edgar Tivett: “You have done a magnificent job in guiding her and shaping her over the years, Langwellan. And Kalfethia has done well to emulate your teachings. I just fear the worst for her. If losing a majority of her closest friends in the past few years wasn’t horrific enough, this most recent tragedy that has just occurred will surely devastate her! I’m beginning to think the gods have cursed her. “

Langwellan: “I believe they are testing her, specifically, Lidra.” Langwellan replied. 

Edgar Tivett: “What do you mean, exactly?” 

Langwellan: “I’ll spare you the extensive details, my friend, but, in short, every mage has a cost to pay, if they intend to cast powerful magics. This cost will always be paid and cannot be avoided, and it can only be paid with sacrifice or loss.”
 
Edgar Tivett: “So you’re saying that the Goddess of Magic herself, Lidra, requires this payment?”

Langwellan: “Precisely, in exchange for power, yes…”

Edgar Tivett: “So, you must be no stranger to this payment, my friend? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Perhaps I could have helped you!”
 
Langwellan: “I have paid, and continue to pay dearly, my friend. While I’m appreciative of your kind offer, you cannot help. It is my burden, not yours.” 

Edgar Tivett:  “This is a dire situation! I am not sure if poor Kalfethia can withstand this cost, Langwellan! There must be something you can do. Can you talk to her?”

Langwellan: “You know as well as I, old friend, that I can talk with the best of them. The trick is to get her to listen…”  

Hearing Langwellan’s words, Mr. Tivett nodded. Standing up from the chair, he said a small prayer under his breath for his dear friend, Kalfethia. Noticing Edgar’s actions, Langwellan spoke.

Langwellan: “Actually, I was planning on visiting her today, Edgar. I’ll leave within the hour.” 

Hearing Langwellan’s words brought some comfort to Edgar Tivett’s soul. He knew if anyone’s voice could dissipate Kalfethia’s torment, it would be the voice of her mentor and dear friend, Langwellan. 

Edgar Tivett: “Excellent! I shall have tea prepared upon your return, Langwellan.” 

Langwellan: “I might need something far more potent than tea when I return, old friend.”

Edgar Tivett: “Duly noted! I’ll shall take my leave and delay you no further, master mage.”

Edgar Tivett bowed to Langwellan and exited the Arch-Mage’s quarters, quietly closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

Langwellan sat back in his chair, cleared his mind, closed his eyes, and exhaled. He then uttered these words like a prayer: “Stay strong, Kalfethia. Do not waver. You have to endure. For the people you have yet to encourage, inspire, and help with your arcane gift, you must endure.”

A moment later, Langwellan opened his eyes and stood up from his chair. He then looked at the small but formidable looking iron lockbox that stood defiantly over the rest of the clutter on his desk. He began looking for the key to that same lockbox. “Where did I place that infernal key this time?” he grumbled. Even after searching his robe pockets and his desk drawers, he still came up empty. Langwellan’s gentle blue eyes sharpened with focus as he uttered a word of magical power. Then, he gently touched the lock of the strongbox with his index finger. A moment later, he heard a faint click, and he knew that the iron box was now unlocked. “Not today, my stout iron friend. Not today.” he said smiling  triumphantly. He opened the lid and began to rifle through the contents of the box. Moments later, he found what he was looking for, a brown leather pouch, about the size of the palm of his hand. He then held the pouch near his ear and gave it a quick little shake to verify that the object in the pouch was still inside. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “We are going on a little trip, you and I. Even though you are small in size, you possess the power to significantly lighten a heavy burden, my friend.” said Langwellan. A moment later, he placed the brown leather pouch in one his robe pockets. He walked to the middle of his quarters, focused his mind, then spoke another word of arcane power. Within an instant, he transported himself by teleportation some five miles away from the base of the Gundris Peaks.
 
Upon arrival, Langwellan pulled the hood of his robes up over ears and the crown of his head, leaving only his face and long white beard exposed to the cold mountain air. Although accustomed to the cold winds of his country, Talbrin, Langwellan, still found the biting winds of the Gundris Peaks gnawing at the thick protection of his ornate robes. He could see the home of his protégé and dear friend, Kalfethia, some five hundred yards to the South. He continued walking as the winds grew stronger. Anxious to see Kalfethia, he let himself through the front gate and then arrived at her front door. He knocked…and waited.

Several moments later, the front door creaked open partially . There stood Kalfethia, obviously enduring overwhelming amounts of sorrow and guilt. Langwellan noticed immediately that her hair and clothing were not in their usual state of perfection. He noticed her face was reddened with raw emotion, and her eyes were red and puffy from prolonged bouts of crying. As tears rolled down her cheeks, Kalfethia, struggled to speak.

Kalfethia: “Langwellan..?” She uttered. Her voice faint, weakened from sadness. 

As Langwellan gazed upon Kalfethia, a look of sympathy and understanding spread across his face.

Langwellan: “Yes, Kalfethia?” He replied in a concerned tone.

Surprised that the busy Arch-Mage had the time to visit her, she spoke.

Kalfethia: “Doesn’t the king need his advisor? Doesn’t the enclave need its master mage?”  Her voice was laced with self-pity.

Langwellan: “The king, as well as the enclave, can wait. It is you that commands my attention now, Kalfethia.”
 
Kalfethia looked upon Langwellan with her piercing blue eyes. Drawing air through her mouth, her bottom lip quivered. As tears rolled slowly down her cheek, she attempted to speak.

Kalfethia: “I…I can’t….” 

Langwellan winced at hearing her words, feeling the pain in his very soul. Though it took quite some effort, he remained strong. He continued to look upon his protégé.

Kalfethia:  “I’m not strong like you, Langwellan. The cost is too high…unbearably high.”

After speaking, she looked down at the ground, as if she failed her mentor Langwellan, in some way.

Langwellan was caught off guard by her admission. He was beginning to think his accomplished protégé and dear friend, the unshakable and resilient Kalfethia, might not ever recover from this recent tragedy. He slowly raised his right hand, placed his index finger under Kalfethia’s chin, and nudged it upwards gently, allowing him to look into her eyes once again. His finger then brushed aside a red lock of tear-soaked hair from the middle of her face then wiped away some of Kalfethia’s tears that were rolling down her left cheek.
 
Langwellan: “Kalfethia…”

Kalfethia interrupted his words by shaking hear head slowly from left to right, as if saying no. Still keeping her gaze upon him, her lip quivered, and with new tears forming, she spoke.

Kalfethia: “I…can’t…” she said again, faintly.

Langwellan could see from her expressive eyes that Kalfethia’s tormented soul was pleading for his help. He also  noticed that the biting cold of the mountain air seemed to have no effect on Kalfethia, simply because the suffering that she was currently enduring, repelled it. Langwellan spoke.

Langwellan: “The crisp cold mountain air will surely reek havoc on this old man’s body. May I come in, Kalfethia?” He asked politely.

Kalfethia looked back down at the ground for a moment, then looked back up at her mentor and spoke.

Kalfethia: “Of course.” Kalfethia wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, then motioned for the aging Arch-Mage to enter.

Langwellan smiled slightly and wiped the bottoms of his frost covered boots on the porch mat, then he entered her warm, lavish, mountainside home. As Langwellan entered, Kalfethia closed the door behind them. All the while, just outside, the crisp cold mountain winds continued to howl.

***I deeply encourage you to play this beautiful, sad song. It is vital for the mood of the story!***