Name: Slate Mithanrail
Race: Dwarf
Age: 87
Height/Weight: 4′ / 205 lbs. (It’s all muscle, baby.)
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Class: Ranger
-Specialization(s): N/A
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Appearance: Slate is every inch the stereotypical dwarf. Dark, gray eyes peer out inquisitively from behind a full, reddish-brown beard that nearly reaches his waist. His hair reaches to the middle of his shoulder blades, and is usually tied back so it doesn’t get in his way. Solidly built, he outweighs most of the humans that tower over him, though this is deceptive; Slate can move very quickly when the need arises.

His clothes are all dull, earthy colors – greens and browns – and his entire body is covered by a faded brown cloak. Sturdy, dwarf-crafted leather boots ensure that his feet are well-protected; equally durable gloves protect his hands, though the thumb and first two fingers are missing on the right-hand glove for the sake of his bow. Topping the ensemble is a well-worn, wide-brimmed hat that Slate is never seen without.
-Identifying Marks: Slate’s arms and chest bear faint scars from a chance encounter he had with a minor fire elemental during his first visit to the Academy. Aside from this, the dwarf-sized bow slung across his back, and his hat will usually give him away in a crowd.
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Equipment: A two-handed Dwarven warhammer rides on his back; three feet of reinforced oak topped with a solid steel block the size of two large bricks stacked together. Also on his back is a sturdy Dwarf-sized bow. Most laugh at this weapon, as it clearly has no chance of standing up to it’s larger human and elven counterparts. Most, however, do not know that this bow was a gift to Slate from Alea Silverell, Headmistress of the Academy of Magic and among most powerful enchanters on Therion; it is on par with a full-sized Draconian longbow in both range and power. A quiver of arrows sits on the ranger’s left hip, and a short sword on his right.
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Personality: Good-natured, always ready with a joke or a witty remark, Slate makes it nearly impossible to engage in pessimism or worry while he’s around. He feels there is far too much strife in Therion, this present age, and seeks to make the world a better place in any way he can. If a situation can be resolved without violence, it will be so. If a problem comes up, Slate will see that it’s solved with ingenuity before brute strength and other such unsavory tactics. He is as loyal a friend as any could ask for, freely giving whatever is needed while asking nothing in return; if he senses that help is required, he will assist to the best of his ability.

Intelligent and perceptive, he has a habit of catching details others may miss. When this happens, he has no qualms about making it well-known with a jovial tone and a sarcastic wink. The only time his cheerful nature fades is when he or his group is presented with danger; Slate does not enjoy killing, unless the opponent is a completely corrupted form of evil.
-Likes: Good humor, reliable companions, sleeping, the Academy of Magic, animals, the forest spirit of Trellyn and his hat.
-Dislikes: Dishonesty, hunters, evil magic-users, people who can’t take a joke, dragons and letting good food go to waste.
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Biography: Contrary to popular belief, not all dwarves live purely for the pleasure of tunneling deeper into the earth and expanding their mountain kingdom. Slate is an oddity among his race for the fact that he cannot stand the thought of living out his life in the same remote location; he would rather wander the continents far and wide, taking in the sights that Therion has to offer and appreciating the variety of people and cultures of the world. He is just as at home sleeping propped up against a sturdy tree as he is in the safety of the dark depths of Hammerdin, and thus had no problem traveling far from home. Today, Slate considers his lot in life to be carefree adventuring, moving from one spot to another, one deed to the next. He is always either exploring new territory, remapping old, or helping those in need he comes upon along his way. If helping another inadvertently leads to adventures in lands both far and near, all the better! Any new opportunity to see more of Therion is always welcomed by the Dwarf.

The story of how Slate came to be a friend of the Academy is purely one of being in the right place at the right time. While traveling through the Northernmost reaches of Trellyn some sixty years ago, the ranger came upon the edge of the circle of mountains that serves as the Academy’s ‘wall’. Studying the distant peaks, he caught sight of several flashes of bright light, all originating from the same location. Though he knew it was the home of Therion’s illustrious school of magic, and what he was seeing was nothing more than students or staff at work, he decided to take a look; he wasn’t doing anything incredibly important that week, anyway. It took the Dwarf until a little after sundown to navigate the treacherous crags and passes of the mountain he was moving up, but the magical activity near the summit had not yet ceased.

When Slate reached his destination after several hours of hard travel, an interesting sight met his eyes. Three robed figures stood around the perimeter of a large circle which had been drawn on the ground with a substance that smelled a bit like sulfur, decorated around it’s entire circumference with runes that Slate had no hope of recognizing. The interior of the circle was laced back and forth with lines and more symbols running in patterns, the end result of which was an intricate design that hurt slightly to stare at. The figures were exchanging words.

“Are you certain this is the wisest of ideas?” The one furthest from the ranger asked; Slate had to strain his ears to hear every word; from the tone of the man’s voice, it was not the first time he had given voice to this speculation.

“Certain.” The reply, coming from the figure closest to Slate identified this sorcerer as a woman. They were clearly sorcerers; whatever spell they were about to weave was clearly ritual magic of some kind. “Professor Dalenay told us to come back with something he had never seen before, if we wanted to impress him. This, I think, should be more than adequate!” The Dwarf thought he could see the figure which had first spoken shudder slightly.

“But the combination could be lethal.. Unstable!” The woman laughed, and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.

“I’m sure we can handle two lesser elementals. You’re not.. Scared, are you?” Stopping his objections immediately, the man gave a nervous laugh and raised his arms, which had begun to glow, apparent now that the sun had set. The woman, and the third figure who had yet to speak followed suit, and together they began tracing arcane symbols in the air, afterimages composed of sparkling dust hanging in place as they went. Slate believed he could make out some symbols relating to fire coming from one of the sorcerers, and earthen symbols from another. He couldn’t identify, though, whatever the third was doing. The ground began to shake.

As the minor earth elemental, a semi-sentient creature the size of a child pulled itself from the ground in the middle of the circle – the only spot free of runes and lines – Slate began to wonder exactly what they hoped to gain from this venutre that a professor of the Academy had never before laid eyes upon. He stroked his beard in puzzlement as the summoned creature stood guardedly, surveying those who had ripped it away from it’s natural environment, the elemental plane of earth. The creature was heavily built, with the appearance of a large rock sprouting stubby arms and legs, topped by a small roundish, featureless head. Suddenly, a -crack- split the air, and a ring of fire sprang into existence around the elemental. It considered this new development carefully, as a minor fire elemental hovered into existence next to it. Whereas the incarnation of earth had a clearly physical build, it’s fiery counterpart appeared as no more than a handful of flames that seemed to exist without an apparent source, floating in midair; two hard, dark points in it’s upper ‘body’ were the only apparent features – it’s eyes. The two elementals regarded each other cautiously, clearly unsure of what was transpiring.

The third sorcerer’s spell went off, then, and something bizarre happened. The flames seemed to be pulled into the body of the earth elemental, which began to shake. Eventually, a burning aura came into place around it, and it’s stone skin darkened to gain the appearance of scorched rock. The sorcerers looked at each other victoriously. Their grins slid off their faces, however, when their creation began to grow. Slowly at first, then faster, it gained height, mass and a distinctly threatening aura. It glared at those who had defiled it so, and then moved it’s gaze to the circle of summoning that both encircled and trapped it. The male sorcerer spoke, his voice trembling.

“The circle is perfect, correct? There are no openings for it t-” At that point, the elemental hybrid stomped upon the ground, cracking the rock in front of it and opening a gap in the runes at it’s feet. It took a step forward, out of the circle. The sorcerers scattered, each running for higher ground and a safe distance at which to cast, to attempt a takedown of the creature. The one furthest from the elemental waved their arm, and a silvery bolt of energy shot towards their adversary, which hit it square in the back and promptly slid right off, having no effect. Exchanging horrified glances, the other two students tried similar spells, to no avail.

“It’s resisting lesser spells! We need to banish it!”

“That takes a ritual, and time we do not have! Run!” It was clear they couldn’t escape the creature’s heated pursuit, and were in dire need of help. They needed time, did they? Slate’s eyes hardened.

The elemental had trapped one of the sorcerers against a ledge, and was bearing down on the quivering man when something caught it’s peripheral vision. It glanced down to see a stocky dwarf in an outrageous hat grinning up at it, warhammer in hand and poised to strike.

“Yer not so different from some of the rock I’ve tunneled through in my past,” Slate muttered eyeing his opponent dangerously. “Let’s see if ya give as easily.” With that, he took a swing at eye level, at the elemental’s left knee, with all the strength his strong frame could muster. With a loud clang, the dwarven weapon took a chunk out of the leg, fragments of rock flying in every direction. The elemental roared; Slate swore as the shock of the blow traveled down his hammer and into his arms, nearly causing him to drop it. The next thing he knew, a large pair of hands had closed around his waist and were lifting him up to meet the creature face-to-face none too gently. Gasping for air, the quick-thinking Dwarf drove the haft of his weapon between himself and the elemental’s thick fingers, using it to pry himself loose and drop to the ground. He looked up just in time to see a gnome-sized fist descending towards his skull at high velocity. In a vain attempt at defense he swung his hammer up to meet it; the world went dark.

When Slate’s world finally swam back to groggy awareness, he found himself lying in an extremely comfortable bed in a tidy white room; he had absolutely no idea where he was.

“How do you feel?” Letting his head drop to the left, the Dwarf beheld a stunningly beautiful woman. He was not usually accustomed to thinking of the taller races as attractive… Too skinny, not enough meat on their bones. But this one proved to be one of the few exceptions to the rule. Though clearly human (her ears weren’t pointed), she possessed the same air of ethereal beauty carried by Elves, the same slender figure and delicate features. She was clad in a white robe with thin bands of silver around the hems; no markings or decorations were apparent. Long, silver hair fell in gentle waves to frame a perfectly formed face. Her eyes were silver as well, inquisitive and intelligent. And, oh, how intelligent! Looking into this woman’s eyes, Slate felt as if he was before someone who knew all the answers, all the tricks in the book, and every ounce of knowledge from the present day to before the first Draconian war. She smiled, and the ranger realized he was blatantly staring, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Ahem… Better, now.” Shaking his head slightly, he looked at the room again. “Forgive me, for I have no idea where I am, or who you are, miss.” The woman laughed, and the sound of it washed over him; he felt the faint touch of healing magic.

“Yes, forgive me.. My apologies, sir Dwarf. I am Alea Silverell, and you are in the infirmary wing of the Academy of Magic. Three of my students brought you here, and related a tale in which you risked your life in order to buy them the necessary time to perform a banishing ritual on a rogue elemental they had summoned. I must thank you, as their safety is highly important to me.” Slate’s eyes opened wider. The headmistress of the Academy had personally waited by his bedside in order to thank him when he woke?

“Ah… ‘Twas nothing, really. I couldn’t let them come to any harm, and I figured that they could sort the problem out in but a moment if I diverted the rock’s attention.” The headmistress nodded once.

“They did ‘sort the problem out’ shortly after you were knocked unconscious, before it could get a second blow in. You can consider the hospitality of the Academy extended to you for as long as you wish…?” she trailed off, and it took the ranger a moment to understand.

“Mithanrail. Slate Mithanrail. I’m thinking I just may take you up on that offer for a day or so… I’m exhausted.” He truly was. He was beginning to feel the toll that both the fight, and the subsequent healing had exacted on his body; he fought a sudden yawn, and lost. Again, the mage in front of him laughed.

“As well you should! Rest now, Slate. I will come back to check on you later this evening.” With that, she stood and left through the only door in the room, closing it softly behind her. Pondering this new turn of events, Slate closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Over the course of the next day, Slate came to know Alea and some of her students, retelling the incident from his point of view and explaining what he was doing in the area at the time. The headmistress found it amusing that the Dwarf merely wandered about Rethlyn, and had been drawn to the top of a mountain by nothing more than the signs of students at work. When he left the Academy, they parted as friends, and a permanent invitation was extended to the ranger to visit whenever he was passing by.

Over the years, Slate has traveled all over Rethlyn, Manori and Illenia prior to it’s teleportation. He has taken part in numerous adventures of a respectable level of renown, but he still feels as if something is missing from his life. What it is has not yet occurred to him, but the practical Dwarf suspects that if he keeps making his rounds, exploring the possibilities that the world has to offer and lending his skills to whatever adventures he finds along the road, he will one day find his calling.

He has visited the Academy many times, always stopping in to see his friend the headmistress, and other friends that he has made among the professors, staff and students inside the school. He is currently taking a week off from the road at the Academy, enjoying the opportunity to rest his feet for a time and sit under the shade of the enchanted trees inside the valley and record recent events in his journal.