Camris Lindar - Medium height, with midnight black hair and blue eyes. Has a quirky, mischievious smile and is prone to inflict his satirical impressions of famous people while playing. The mandolin is his favorite of the musical instruments.
Pictured is Camris in formal attire, when playing at events or in the city; usually carries a lute.
While adventuring, he dresses in elven chain, green tunic and cloak, soft brown boots, wizard's hat, elven recurve medium bow and 200 arrows.
Most often he can be found in the wilderness, blue bandanna around his head, black breeches, soft brown knee boots, shirtless chest gleaming with sweat as he patiently shapes dead wood into bows.
My father was Findegil Colavir, a high mage of Evermeet far to the west. He came to the realms and settled in Myth Drannor as a Professor of Evocation at the University of Cormanthyr there. Why he came is still something of a mystery; though I recall him telling my mother that while he hadn't wanted to, he had no regrets.
My mother is Calmwen Linduial. She came from a noble family that had been around ever since there was a Cormanthyr; a couple of ages at least. She was then (and still is) a famous singer, one of the Lomelindel dusksingers; her concerts were regularly given at court. They met at the birth celebration of the Coronels son, Laerithil; and were married after a short courtship ten years later. I was born twelve years after that and they named me Camris -- "Writer-of-Storys".
Growing up in Cormanthyr was an idyllic period; the forest was my home and playground. My friends and I would play with the satyrs and dryads in the deep woods; swim in the river with the Were-otters; contest in archery with Centaurs; and play tag in the meadows with Sprites and Faerie Dragons (who would cheat by breathing, leaving us on the ground rolling in laughter). I remember it as one long summer.
Eventually I entered the University to study magic as my father before me. The work was fairly hard for me though, as I had no serious talent for it. I did get fairly skilled at Illusions, as it complimented my training in music. It was there that I first met Laerithil Irythil, prince of Cormanthyr. I was about ten years behind him though, and a lower classman, so he probably doesn't remember me. Outgoing, having a serious talent for magic, an inclination for practical jokes, and being prince made him unforgettable. All the girls pursued him. His campus pranks are still the stuff of legend.
I managed to squeak by to earn my own degree, and ended up helping my father in his research projects. I filled my time playing in a band with a bunch of fellows from school, and began building my reputation. Until that horrible year in which Myth Drannor was attacked and taken by the Horde of Darkness. The exact cause of the attack has always been in dispute. Some say that we were betrayed by someone at the University. Some say that the Black Enemy had always desired to destroy the jewel of the North. Some say that Laer shouldn't have thrown that pie in that Arcanaloth's face. I was tasked to help escort refugees to Silverymoon and scout for allied troops on the way back, and she decided to stay until we could return. In any case, the enemy whelmed the city and took it at horrible cost to himself. It was as if they had no other plan, no way out after they had it. My father was last reported defending the University when it was overwhelmed. A siege developed from there, and we never did get to return.
I was outraged by what had happened to my home. I felt a passionate rage like nothing I had ever felt before for anything, and I looked for a way to strike back, to hurt the thing that had destroyed my home. I tried to join the guards there, but all they had use for was as a magician; and not a front line one either. So I petitioned to join the bladesingers of Silverymoon. I came close to failing there also; but one the masters there, Menelmacar, saw some promise in me and took me in as a student. I remember he asked me how badly I wanted to join:
"Would you give up your wealth? We are not paid as well as you could make on the outside." He said, his eyes pinning me like spears and with even less warmth. I said yes, confidently. Wealth had never had much hold over me.
"Would you give up your family? Your duty will carry you away, even for decades at a time." I swallowed, but agreed. My mother would be safe here in Silverymoon without me.
"Would you give up your music? You will have no time for anything else." His eyes held me as I hesitated, but I had to strike back at something. Yes.
"Would you give up your hatred?" I stared at him, astonished. Wasn't that the purpose of a Bladesinger? "Sooner or later you will confront a choice. To save one of Tel' Quessir, or to destroy some enemy. If you cannot choose Tel' Quessir you would be useless to us." I sweated this one, but nodded yes. Surely I would encounter situations which would demand the destruction of some enemy.
And so I entered his dojo as a student, to learn the discipline of the blade and the spell. Long was the training, and the discipline was far more harsh than the University ever prepared me for. But I had the will and the desire to endure it all. And after a century, I graduated to the rank and honor of a Bladesinger of Silverymoon as Camrist -- "Sharp Hand", receiving the panther tattoo in the service of High Lady Alustriel.
I served at her pleasure for more than three centuries; eventually rising to the rank of lieutenant. I and my Hand of five were used mostly in the city, teleported to dangerous situations where the city guard needed help. One day we had to raid the home of an illegal Necromancer. We split up to take the house in the usual way, Hwinda to take the back, Falmar to take high, put the Teleport block up, and I went in the front. I had cleared the front of the house, but became confused and wandered in the distorted confines of the house. I swear it was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. I went through a doorway, saw a Nycaloth, and attacked! It fought back hard, but it took a rebounded lightning bolt and died on my blade; another one fired a thunderbolt into my back from behind. As my ears rang, I managed to turn over and flood the hall behind me with a gas cloud. As it stood helpless choking, I severed it's head from its body. As the head rolled to a stop, I saw it was the head of Hwinda.
I eventually learned that the whole house was a trap. Everyone who entered had a glamour placed on him to make him look like a monstrous being. The rooms and halls were enchanted with Distance Distortion. We were lost long enough for our protections to run out. But none of that meant anything to me; I just stood there in shock, because I realized that my old master was right. My hatred had been used to kill my own people.
Despite Alustriel's pardon and my mother's pleading, I resigned from Alustriel's service and began wandering the sword coast. I took up the Shalaquin again to earn my living; my old name, Camris; and hid the tattoo underneath a bracer; but I really didn't care anymore. I hadn't even taken the most elementary precautions; no challenge, no dispel, not even see aura. I felt so worthless I couldn't see how I could ever help anyone ever again if I could be fooled so easily.
For centuries I wandered, playing anywhere and everywhere, until I came across the very same Necromancer who's house was a gigantic trap for me and my bladesingers.
I was playing for a crowd (including a young bard by the name of Tizer) at some midsummers eve celebration when I saw him meeting with several men as they went into a tower. I felt a rage that I hadn't felt since that day in Sliverymoon... But I couldn't attack him. I tried to raise a hand to cast a spell, or grab a sword from a guard, but I just couldn't. I stood there sweating and trembling until the guards drove me off. But I had to do something. So, that evening I used all my magic and skill to penetrate the tower and go through their papers. I learned that the Necromancer and the men with him were agents of the Black Network, there to use their dark arts and political blackmail to corrupt the people there. While I couldn't raise a had to them, I could warn the Royal Guard anonymously. I had the pleasure to attend the execution of that Necromancer and found a new way to beat the bad guys. From that day forward, I collected information by spying, bribery, theft, whatever I had to do to uncover the hidden evils that stalked good people. Eventually I came to the attention of the Harpers. They asked me to take certain actions for them, to pass certain information, and eventually I came to realize that dropping the right information to the ear of a ranger or paladin could be more effective than a hundred bladesingers.
Just recently though, two people needed me to stand and fight, and I didn't run away; I stayed and fought. I realize now that standing aside and letting others do the fighting is a form of cowardice; and I can't do that anymore. I may never recover my old blade skill, but I am a fairly good mage, and I have never lost my skill with the bow. My father didn't stand aside, I will do no less.
I joined the Grey Company during a time of transition, when the old Hall was swept away and the Company was dumped into the land of Britannia. As Company Bard I have entertained and supported the company in all it's forays against those who would destroy us and our friends and will continue to do so in the future.