Kirsten Raymonde

The day the plague came to her remote province, eight-year-old Kirsten was where she normally was, at the city’s outdoor theater acting in the play The Betrayal of Claudius. Kirsten had a passion for the stage and her parents had a passion for abdicating her care to others. Kirsten’s family were part of only a handful of elves that lived in the mostly human region, whose mistrust of outsiders was so staunch that Kirsten had never met anyone born any place else, and those that left, were never heard from or seen again.

When it became evident that people were dying, and dying quickly, panic set in. Everyone was frantic and scared, trying to save themselves, their families if they were lucky, but mostly themselves. Hours after chaos had taken hold of the city, Kirsten was still sitting cross-legged stage left of the theater on the desolate and splitting wood floor, that on occasion gave her splinters during act three, waiting for her parents.

A human man with a black beard came into view, pushing a cart full of unknowable effects covered with a blanket through the third row of the playhouse, the creaking of the wheels bouncing off the empty seats. The man stopped when he noticed Kirsten. She stared back at him, her face absent of any emotion, neither of them saying a word. The man continued to push the cart; Kirsten’s eyes followed him. He stopped abruptly at the end of the isle, cursed, then turned around exasperated and snaped, “Are you coming with me or not?”

Kirsten and the man, whose name she now knew was Jeevan, ended their journey at a small boarded up house about a mile from the theater. A clean-shaven man, but with the same dark eyes as Jeevan, opened the door with one hand, while holding a crutch under his arm with the other.

“Frank, this is Kirsten. Kirsten, this is Frank,” said Jeevan as he pushed past his brother and wheeled the cart into the house.

“Hello, Jeevan,” replied Frank, a little perplexed and added, “Hello, little elf girl.”

Kirsten replied, “Hello, Frank.” And walked in.

The three spent two months hiding out in Frank’s house and living off the supplies that Jeevan had collected in his cart. Whenever they heard noise outside, they would pull up a loose plank in the floor and huddle in the small crawl space underneath until the clamor subsided.

To pass the time Frank and Kirsten would discuss the plays they’ve seen or read. Frank encouraged Kirsten when she said she was writing a play for them to perform. While Frank and Kirsten escaped into fantasy, Jeevan kept a daily inventory of their dwindling stash.

One day when all was quiet outside, Jeevan announced that they had to leave the province. Their resources were almost gone, and they hadn’t heard any noise in a while which meant it was safe now. Frank disagreed and told Jeevan there was no way to know definitively and he wasn’t sure he’d make it. To buy time together, Kirsten stated that she was almost done with her play and that they needed to put it on at the house.

Jeevan, staring at his brother as he replied to Kirsten’s request, “Ok, we’ll do your play in two days. Then we all leave.”

On that second day, with everyone dressed in the costumes Kirsten had crafted from random items around the house, the trio performed her play. Jeevan rushed through his lines, impatient to embark, while Frank rendered his character full of ardor. During Frank’s soliloquy about the cravings in loss, a noise no one in their party heard came from outside the boarded-up window. A slow cracking of wood being pulled from the makeshift blockade.

Kirsten was the first to see the bloodshot eyes through the newly created gap in the planks of the boarded-up window. Her body seized and she froze for only a moment. Enough time for another piece of wood to be wrenched from the window, and enough noise made for Frank and Jeevan to notice a dagger come flying across the room and finding purchase in Frank’s chest. Frank grabbed the hilt with his hand and pulled the blade out. Blood cascaded over the costume Kirsten had made, dyeing it crimson. As Frank fell to the ground, Jeevan rushed outside and tackled the owner of the bloodshot eyes, both of them disappearing from Kirsten’s view. The noises from the skirmish floated in through the now gaping hole in their defenses.

Kirsten knelt by Frank and asked, “What is it like for you, at the end?”

Through the blood that was beginning to pool in his mouth, Frank placed his hand on Kirsten’s arm and replied, “It is exactly like waking up from a dream.”

Two weeks later when Kirsten and Jeevan were on the road walking towards the rest of the world, Jeevan began teaching Kirsten how to use a bow and short sword. Kirsten’s insatiable passion for the stage shifted seamlessly to mastering these new instruments, so no one could take anything from her ever again. The two never spoke of Frank, because the more you remember, the more you’ve lost.

I remember damage.

You were given this book, Station 11, by an actor that you worked with, in the before times. During the days in Jeevan's brother's house, you pored over this book, memorizing every line.

As far as you know, this is the only copy of this book in existence. Yet, somehow, people seem persuaded by the passages from within. You have spent countless hours pouring over and memorizing every line of Station 11.

When making a persuasion check, recite a passage from Station 11 relevant to your persuasion effort (you can make up any vague yet self-important sounding phrase to suit the purpose) to gain advantage on the persuasion roll.

((This item has been added to your DnDBeyond character sheet))

Finally, you may purchase up to 100 gold worth of basic gear (basic gear may be found in the player's handbook). Any gold, of the 100 gold, not spent in this way will be lost.