I come from a long line of wood elves.

We lived in a small hamlet called Dawnstar in the Evermoors near the

Silverymoon. My parents Eldar and Alais were firm but fair. They were proud of our heritage and raised me to
be balanced and in tune with nature and the wood around us. Due to my fathers high position in the council
and my mothers royal lineage our family was granted the unique honour of being given permission to have
two children.

I remained an only child for a while and remember clearly the winter lunar festivals we attended each year
once I was of age. It was a simple ceremony to gather flowers at night during the last full moon of the year.
These flowers were used to remember the year that was fading and bless the year ahead. I was too young to
understand why some years my mother and father would slip away to a private grove and plant flowers
instead, always commemorated with a tiny marble plaque. Each time this occurred the lines in my fathers face
grew more etched and my mother smiled a little less. My lessons grew more stern and the importance of duty
were emphasised even more.

One year in my 40s, during the lunar festival, I stumbled upon the most beautiful profusion of blooms. I
gathered up armfuls of them and everyone commented on how exquisite they were. I used them in a flower
crown for my mother and the next year my sister Raerathauna was born. She had white blonde hair - the
colour of snowdrops in moonlight and brought so much light into the house. She was always leaving gifts of
flowers and you could easily trace her by listening out for her laughter or singing. We quickly nicknamed her
Ray and she called me Aura. She was loved by all she met.

When she came of age she begged me to take her to her first lunar festival - I promised I would look after her
and our parents gave their permission. It had been a harsh winter that year and the moon was a dark ochre.
Fewer people than normal joined in the clearing that night and they were strangely nervous and quiet. Ray and
I began to collect our plants - I searched for thick planks of bark I knew could hold the snowdrops she
favoured. 

The winds picked up and clouds covered the moon blocking the light when suddenly they were among us,
these pale creatures which smelled of blood and decay. There appeared to be one darkly robed moving calmly
towards the back while the rest were caked in mud, snarling and lumbering erratically. Everyone panicked and
ran from these fiends that suddenly moved as fast as lightening and screeched into the wind. I saw them catch
and bite people from my village, once blood had been spilled they seemed unable to control themselves and
viciously fought each other in their frenzy to feed.

One of these maimed beasts lunged towards Ray and I grappled with him screaming for her to get back. His
clothing and shape was that of a man from the nearby town but his strength was immense and he was
smeared with clay and gore. I knew he would easily overpower me so in desperation I forced him to the
ground to give Ray more time to run. We fell into the nearby stream and he screamed in great agony so I held
him under the water and he dissolved under my hands. I got up panting and desperately searched for Ray,
around me were fallen bodies but none of the faces were hers. Brave elven folk had followed my example and
were fighting back, bringing down many of these beasts and forcing the rest to flee but were sustaining serious
injuries in the process. My only thought was to protect Ray so I turned my back on them and ran towards the
area of the wood I had seen her disappear. I followed her tracks to the glade with the marble plaques and
there found a scattered bouquet of snow drops and no further trace of her. I searched for hours with every
tracking skill I had but it wasn’t enough. Something within me broke - my light had gone and I collapsed in
tears, if I had been faster or stronger or more powerful I could have stopped this happening.

I was snapped out of my weeping for Ray by screams of alarm - I ran towards them and was revolted to see
some of the corpses of these creatures beginning to twitch and writhe. I shouted that they hated water and we
dragged them to the stream and held them there until they had been disintegrated. The sun rose that morning
on a massacre, 12 dead, twice that wounded and no sign of Ray. 

I watched the light leave my mother’s eyes and my father age 300 years when I told them of what transpired.
They had no recriminations but I blamed myself entirely.
The elders from Dawnstar said it was a vampire taking his spawn out for their first feed and precautions
needed to be taken to prevent my folk returning from death against the laws of nature. I needed to act to
excise the futile guilt I felt and that night the waning moon was red again but from the smoke of the funeral
pyres I built and lit. 

I couldn’t remain in the hamlet, my home had become a cage and my parents strangers. I couldn’t live with not
knowing what had happened to Ray. One night it became too much, I wrote a note to my parents telling them I
would be back with Ray or an answer of her fate and snuck out the house only taking the pressed snowdrops.

I traveled on foot to Waterdeep and lived by my wits off the land and as an urchin on the street. I gathered
enough coin to share a room in a flophouse near the port. A few people who thought to prey on me soon
learned to find easier targets. I would often go down to the dock to watch the moon on the water and it was
there I met Cressida - she saw the fury within me and sought to help me harness it. She took me under her
wing, pairing me with a large metallic automaton and gave us a purpose investigating mysteries. The machine,
like me, has no need for undue emotions and I find it a soothing, unobtrusive partner. 

I listen constantly for stories of a dark vampire or a small elven girl with snow white hair...

One early spring afternoon Cressida has invited you to a meeting with two other new investigators, your
colleague L33tn1ing and a human who goes by Gendry. In the meeting she explains that she has heard that the
renowned author Volotham Geddarm has been hanging round the yawning portal inn. Her contacts have
indicated he has been in quite an emotional state in recent days and she would like him observed.