“However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do if you don’t act upon them?"



Gender: Male | | Age: Unknown | | Weight: 180

Class: Cleric | | Size: Medium | | Alignment: Unaligned

Deity: Corellon

Ability and Defense Scores

STR 10 | | AC 16

CON 16 | | FORT 13

DEX 10 | | REF 12

INT 14 | | WILL 16

WIS 18 | | SPEED 6

CHA 11 | | Pass. Insight 19

HP 38 | | Pass. Perception 19


Acrobatics +1 | | Acrana +3 | | Athletics +1

Bluff +1 | | Diplomacy +1 | | Dungeoneering +5

Endurance +4 | | Heal +5 | | History +10

Insight +10 | | Intimidate +1 | | Nature +5

Perception +10 | | Religeon +10 | | Stealth +1

Streetwise +1 | | Theivery +1

Languages Known: Common, Primordial, Giant, Elven, Goblin, Supernal


Toughness | | Linguist || Ritual Casting


At Wills

Sacred Flame | | Lance of Faith

Encounter Powers

Divine Glow

Daily Powers

Guardian of Faith

Utility Powers

Cure Light Wounds


Silence | | Gentle Repose


In the Astral Sea Cyrus spent the majority of his time expanding his horizon, by learning new languages, instruments and even different methods of drawing. He developed a strong eye for detail, able to find even the most minute flaw in his work to fix it. Somewhat of a perfectionist, nothing is left undone, so he continues to search for new arts and ways to express himself. At least that is all he can remember from his time in the Astral Sea and those memories served as a mold of what he would be in the physical world.

Here he continues his quest to unlock the secrets of life through art and prays to Corellon for guidance and help with his pursuit. This plane seemed to be torn and it grew increasingly difficult to find beauty in a marauding world so Cyrus turned to Corellon, asking for guidance, and received his answer in the form of a dying man crashing through the doors of the inn he was staying. No one in the room had the expertise to aid the man and there was no time to transport him. Cyrus felt the world fade away and the calming waves of the Astral Sea wash over his shoulders and suddenly he knew how to save the man, and so he did.

He now knew how to bring excitement to people’s face a new way to let his creativity flow while aiding those around him. He would become a Cleric and travel through the bloody land, aiding lone travelers through parts of their journey. During this time he came across a young gnome named Sovanna and soon were inseparable. Traveling together they would stop at small camps to aid struggling parties and showcase their art for recognition and to raise a few spirits.

After narrowly escaping a skirmish with a large pack of hobgoblins the two came across a tiefling named Damakos who was having trouble as well. Deciding to intervene Cryus and Sovanna made quick work of his attackers, much to the disdain of the tiefling. Who raved and ranted about having the situation under control, although, as Cyrus pointed out, he was missing almost every blow he attempted to strike. Damakos took this as an insult and challenged Cyrus to a duel, and being the proud man Cyrus is, accepted, and won, simply staying out of range of Damakos’ wild swings and seething him with radiance. Ever since that day Damakos has reappeared challenging Cyrus to one task or another, and Cyrus as always accepted the challenge, much to the disdain of Sovanna who is always forced to watch and be judge. Although she tries to get her way out of it, as gnomes do, she always ends up saying, “Boys will be boys.” and judging the competition anyway.

When alone, Cyrus meditates, and tests the limits of his power. Everytime he feels like there is so much more inside him, but he can never grasp it and make it come to form. This frustrates him, but keeps him searching to improve himself in hopes of unleashing his true potential. One day he feels he could almost grasp it, the power that eludes him, teasing him with faint memories from his life in the Astral Sea, but just as he reaches it, a sharp pain explodes in his chest. His mind shifts back to the living plane as his body is blown backward into a wall, pain wrapping its embrace around every part of his body. He was barely able to open his eyes to view his attacker, struck dumb when he realized what the blurred image was. Another Deva.

The Deva stepped over Cyrus, seeming disappointed in his inability to move. “This is where you pay for your sins.” Said the unknown Deva, Cyrus had not accepted this fate, but could do nothing about it. The Deva’s eyes seemed to cloud over and Cyrus knew exactly what it was doing although he had never seen it before in his life. It’s mind shifted to the Astral Sea, exactly what he had almost accomplished. He knew if he could reach that point he would have the power to fight back, but he couldn’t. The Deva looked at him again, “You live this day.” It spat crossing its arms over its chest. “Somebody believes in you. You better be worth it. Not like you can do much now with that collar on you.” Its eyes shifted over again, this time it looked as if a twine of pain had shot through the Deva. “There is a place, The Acadamy, that trains people with limited powers such as yours. Go there, maybe your master will allow you strength through guidance.” And with that it disappeared. Cyrus had a small taste of power and he wanted it more than ever now, no one would defeat him as easily as he had just been.

He was found minutes later by his gnome companion, who helped nurse him back to health. She agrees that he should join The Acadamy, but refuses to join herself. “Schools mean rules and gnomes aren’t very good at them.” She stated with the childish laughter that Cyrus had grown fond of. When he was of health, they parted ways, promising to find each other and share stories of their adventures then continue where theirs had left off. A sad departure, but necessary for them both to grow and they promised their time apart would not be everlasting. Cyrus left to the acadamy, where he is now, ready to expand his power and knowledge of the world, while expressing the beauty of his art through battle.


Once upon a time in Tyrn AMR