1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4, he was counting down to calm himself as he waited and waited in the

abandoned shack. The feywild hadn’t been kind to him, he didn’t remember when he entered or
how long he had been in there, what he knew was that the perfect opportunity was about to come
to him. It was his fourth and final time doing this, his crescendo, his magnum opus, his perfect 4/4.
The gun made it a bit easier to bend the body, but he still wished blood came in more colors, his job
would be so much easier. The hag had gone out to pick ingredients for the fourth time that week, he
had been watching from afar for about a month, studying her movements, putting his mind into the
performance, rehearsing over and over, mentally painting his creation, studying the time she took to
come back to the house. She’d be living there for quite some time from what he could tell, she
always took little time coming back, which of course meant she knew where every single ingredient
she needed was growing. His first spirit came back, 2 more miles, he loaded his gun. The second
came to him whispering, he readied himself, putting on the mask the performance was about to
begin, the third came, he sat on a chair next to the door’s latches. As soon as it opened, he started to
hold his breath, getting ready to strike. The hag turned around giving him the opportunity he
needed, one through the right Achilles tendon, one in each wrist, and one in the jaw, enough to
weaken her and disable her magic, enough for the real work to begin. He kneeled next to her and
started to weaken her further getting her soul ready to be taken, to be weaved. “You are truly
pathetic, look at you, you really think you rule this place, that you are the ones at the top, and yet
you are trembling and crying in a pool of your blood. Where are the spells you poor excuse of a
witch?” “fleath, ill ive ou anying” “oh? The pleading started, my favorite part. There is nothing you
can give me you are worthless, you’re not even worth the air you are breathing, look how truly
pathetic you are trying your best to move, thinking “if only, if only I could”, you can’t do anything,
you are weak.” His smirk started to grow larger under the mask as he could already see his work
coming together. “What was it again that you said when you first saw me passing by, that if you
weren’t in a good mood id be dead where I stood was it? I’m truly disappointed with the results. I
was preparing for a bit of resistance, but I guess all that time spent was for nothing, in the end you
are as weak and as fragile as they come, and to think that you were always boasting about having
power only to end up in your own blood. I’m truly disappointed at the outcome. But I guess you die
as you lived, alone, forgotten. If I finish the job how long do you think it’s going to be until someone
finds you, a month, a year? How long is anyone going to remember you for? When is someone going
to say you know “I haven’t seen esper in a while maybe I should pay a visit”? of course I don’t ask
this out of curiosity, I’m about to make a piece of art out of you and I want it to be appreciated.” He
looks at her for a moment. *Shit, maybe I went too far, how long has she stopped breathing for? *.
The fourth was weaved better than the rest, maybe it was the soul that was stronger this time
maybe it was him becoming better at what he did. Once he was done with the soul, the performance
could begin. He considered himself to be a musician and an actor, but his true talent was sculpting.
He begun to break and twist the bones in an intricate pattern going back and taking a few moments
to look for corrections to be made. In the end kane as he called himself while wearing the mask left
behind what he always made of the people after he used them, a sculpture of a red rose.

Kane was once an elf named yigrall owgron who lived with his family in waterdeep. His parents faren
and towril had his future planned out for him, he would become a necromancer, following the
footsteps of his father, he however always wanted to pursue a career in art. He had a natural talent
for many things, he had a perect pitch, he could always act out fake emotions in order to get what
he wanted, and he was a mediocre painter without any training. His father allowed him to do some
of these as hobbies, but he was adamant on his education being one of necromancy. Both of his
parents had come out of families that had lived difficult lives, both being inducted into the winter
court forom a young age. On the winter solstice the year he turned 15 his parents forgot to give a
gift to the court. The winter court of course did not forgive the neglect of the gift ceremonies and
until such time that one year had passed the court would take kane as a replacement. This of course
was the lie told to him by his parents. In reality what they wanted was to push him into becoming
more inclined with their ways, which is also why he was given a “protective charm” to keep with
him, which was in reality a ring that could trap a soul within it so it can later be expelled and
manipulated. When he got to the faywild he was placed in a cell and was told that he would be let
out whenever his parents paid up.

In the cell adjacent to his own there was a satyr named kalion. In the years they spent in captivity he
would always play the guitar, which was something everyone in their cells enjoyed. He would never
talk, and he would never interact with anyone, the only words he would utter were directed towards
his instrument. He was always careful of course so the guards wouldn’t hear him. However, one day,
on a surprise search through the rooms, the guards realized that he had been hiding his guitar as
contraband, in reality, of course he hadn’t had the money to bribe them that month, which is why he
could be heard crying the previous night, something that kane curiously enjoyed. The guards, wantd
to make an example of kalion and decided, since kane was close to being freed, his family having
promised an epensive new artifact that had just been created, that they should make them fight.
Without kalion’s instrument the fight was a joke. At the end kalion started hurling insults towards
kane who actually felt physically hurt by the insults. He smiled, having experienced what he
considered to be the epitome of humiliation someone could inflict on another as he started giving
his own responses. A battle of insults and with every flinch the two made the crowd went all the
wilder. In the end, kane was standing on top of kalion, hanging by a thread as kalion breathed for the
last time. He knelt close to him and started to shout, cry and scream as loud as he could, hugging the
fallen kallion, the only thing keeping him sane in prison. In truth this was all of course a lie he was
trying to sell, an act, as what he truly wanted was for the ring to absorb the soul. What he didn’t
know was that had he not lied and not hidden what he did he would be free. In the following nights
he started working on the design for the soul. Kalion was a perfect opportunity for him. He could use
him in order to get the progress he needed as a bard, but he also needed to be a useful asset in his
grand plan. And so the first of his perfect 4/4 was born.

After a few years his parents decided it was time for him to come back to their home but, kane had
started to enjoy the life I the feywilds. He had started sympathizing with the fey of the winter court,
seeing eye to eye with them, he wanted to become a member of the winter court. So, the gave him
a mission that he had to complete in 1 years’ time, kill a deviant hag that left the court named esper.
Kane knew that in order to actually manage that he would need to advance his abilities further than
before, he needed more help. So, he spent the first months learning everything he could from
kalion. On his journey through the feywild to gather information about esper he came across a half
elf bard traversing through the wilderness seemingly lost holding what looked like a guitar only
seemingly without a hollow chamber for the sound to echo and with metallic strings, an instrument
seemingly made to be useless by design. “Uh… hello? Who are you and have you lost your way?” “Ay
it’s a person. So uhm yeah dude could you uhhhh…. HELP! YEAH, THAT’S THE WORD, could you help
me”” uhhhm… sure, name and place?” “Yeah, right you are the fifth one to try it today, I was warned
I’m not giving you shit, I know how you guys work, the satyrs already took my focus and told me to
try and find my way back something about, oh look a butterfly, aww and hey hey look at that leaf.”
“ah a victim of the summer court probably, yeah I’m not a fey you can be assured of that”” oh then
the name is allaroy and I’m trying to find the place where the wild mushrooms blossom and the
midnight weeds pull out their eyes” “for fuck’s sake, kalion!”” yeah so, you want to take a right on
the tree that says “pixie asscheeks taste like candy” on a night with a full moon and then once you
reach the clearing take your clothes off and say summer court can fuck it, winter court can suck it 7
times. Then in the pitch-black room put your clothes back on and play an E flat 7 times in a row and
you should get in, want yigrall to right it down for you?”” what were we talking about again? Oh shit
I seem to be lost” “yeah yigrall glue the note to his hand” ”fine…” “ wait what is this?” “it’s the way
to go back” “ oh thank you, as a token of my…. Uhhh.. thing… here take this guitar, and uhhhm you’ll
need this black box too they only work together” “sure, sure, ill use it”

In the next days yigrall found his next victim, an elf girl sitting by a river. He tried to make it as quick
as possible, the court had equipped him with a gun but only so many bullets, 12 to be exact. The
“whisper” was a weapon suited perfectly for him, a weapon that could fire 4 bullets at a time the
fourth of which, the crescendo was fired only by imbuing it with the blood and magic of the user. He
had never held a weapon before but in the last years ranged weaponry like this had become a
staple, so he at least knew how it operated. It was not a pretty or a perfect strike at all, it could be
described as sloppy work at best. He went near her and extracted her soul and made her his scout,
his eyes that lingered wherever he needed them the most. He notced a pendant on her neck with a
picture of what he assumed where parents, with a note on the back saying “a gift for your 400 th
birthday our dear aby”. He glanced back at her face and the wounds he had inflicted, his intrusive
thoughts started bothering him once he saw how ugly the sight of her lying in the river was. He
wanted perfection, only that could satisfy him, he started to do what he did best, paint, sculpt, bend
express his artistic ingenuity, and soon her body had been twisted into the shape of a swan, sitting
by the river. The color bothered him, it always did, “it’s so much harder only with red” he whispered.
It was at this time that his lessons with kalion started to peak, they got the strange guitar to work,
and they both realized what it sounded like, evolution. there was a distinct sound that could never
be replicated in the way the instrument sounded, much like yigrall there was beauty and perfection
in the imperfection. Both of them started to explore this new sound and trying to come up with
different songs that could express all that they had seen and all that they could see, a new world of
inspiration standing in front of them.

As the journey continued, they came across a human who seemed like he had been a victim of the
fay. Any question he was asked he wouldn’t respond and he seemed to not remember how to talk,
having being reduced to basically an animal. Yigrall decided that he could be used as his last spectre
since their journey was coming to an end one way or another. Nothing was left behind except a
sculpture of a tree that had an expression like it was screaming.

After his job was completed, he joined the winter court becoming a fey and returning to his family.
After his returned he showed his father his work with the souls. After that he exclaimed that he
would follow necromancy only through a bard university as he had come to love both.