Theolaerynn Frostfire

Theolaerynn is tall and slender in the way of Elves, with dark hair and violet eyes.


Str:   10
Dex: 20
Con: 10
Int:  16
Wis: 14
Cha: 10

Feats and Rogue Feats:  Dodge, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finess, Two Weapon Fighting, Two Weapon Defense

Trained Skills:
Acrobatics: 13
Appraise: 8
Bluff: 8
Climb: 8
Craft (Traps): 8
Disable Device: 15
Escape Artist: 13
Knowledge (Dungeoneering): 10
Linguistics: 7
Perception: 12
Perception (Trapfinding): 14
Ride: 6
Sense Motive: 7
Sleight of Hand: 13
Stealth: 13
Survival: 5


In that time between false dawn and true it seems like the world holds it's breath, as if fearing the sun might choose this day to forsake the living.  And then, as the first spear of light is caught in the morning dew and refracts in its dazzling brilliance, that breath is released in a rush of sound as creatures great and small happily greet the day.

Theolaerynn Frostfire wasn't one of them, and didn't appreciate those that were.  He had once again stayed up far too late to get any real sleep at all, and the fact it was his own fault was of no consolation.  For a brief moment he considers shutting the blinds and going back to sleep, but the memory of what his father had done to him the last time he had tried that some decades back brought him quickly to his feet.

It wasn't that his father was a mean or unkind person.  It was worse than that.  He was a scholar and a perfectionist, and seemingly devoid of any emotion at all, other than a strict intollerance for anything but the most sincere devotion to science and the scientific method.  In his case, oddly enough, healing.  Not so much in performing healing acts, although he did that as required, but rather delving into the inner mysteries of the body.  He insisted that the body could heal itself of anything short of outright death, if only one knew how to communicate with it.  Due to the nature of his studies and the mess they created he was often in a position that mentally or physically left him unable to write notes, so his only son was called on to make them for him.  And they had better be flawless.

Working for his mother wasn't much better, although at least she had a personality.  She was so bubbly and fun loving, in fact, that he couldn't imagine what brought his parents together in the first place.  He was fairly certain he knew how impressed his father hadn't been the first time he fell victim to one of his future wife's practical jokes.

No, it wasn't her personality that made working for her tough.  It was the work itself.  She translated ancient texts and generally looked for the elusive answer to what made the universe tick.  Bonus if it involved discovering new magic or at least new ways to use old magic.  Perhaps it was the intensity in research that was the common bond in his parents relationship.  It was certainly the common reason Theo got into trouble.  He had inherited all of his mothers mischief, all of both parents curiosity, and neither of their dedication to the scholarly arts.

Which meant that he was usually smart enough to get into trouble, but not smart enough to get out of it.  Being a pragmatist, though, he couldn't let that discourage him from practicing.

And so as he headed to breakfast he wasn't quite sure if the thrill would be worth the 'complications' and lack of sleep, having spent much of the night softly, patiently tresspassing past locked doors and sleeping forms. And yet, he couldn't quite surpress a giggle as he checked his hands one last time for traces of adhesive, wondering if his father had tried to pick up his shoes yet…

Theolaerynn Frostfire

Rise of the Runelords Shade