Calrond told me I should slap in a description and picture of my fellah in here, so here it is.
This picture is for his general looks. He doesn't use a spear, but the hat, and the rest of his attire is how I see this guy in his standard clothing, though he changes frequently to various clothes to fit his personas.
Anton was born the son of a storyteller and a musician, and his future seemed foretold. His father was a great bear of a man, with a thick, rumbling baritone voice that could fill a room and inspire an audience. His mother was a gifted player of the lute, and would weave subtle chords through her husband’s stories, lifting a triumphant moment higher, or playing to make angels cry when tragedy struck. Together they made a good living, and Anton grew up in good inns. By the time Anton was eight his father and mother had been invited to work at a new venture in Waterdeep, a playhouse called “The Halls of Discovery”. The next three years were a blur of pleasure for Anton, moving around backstage, meeting other performers, watching them practice and rehearse their bits. His favorites soon came to be the actors. His father found a troupe of them and started to work with them, converting his stories into plays, with his rich baritone narrating the tale as the actors strutted and postured on stage in their finery. By the time he was 14 he his first role in a play, tramping around the stage in the guise of a goblin. That tiny taste had him addicted. He continued to act and learn from his parents and the actors until he was 18, and a wanderlust came over him. He was tired of playing out other men’s tales. He wanted to make his own! But he didn’t want his to be imaginary and fiction, he wanted to LIVE the tales, he wanted to BE the hero, and then act and narrate roles in his own life story!
So he set out, armed with a lute and a rapier he stole from the prop room, and sought fame and fortune. He lucked into a band of adventurers on the road outside of Waterdeep, they called themselves the “Sapphire Blade”. Their leader, a paladin by the name of Sir Alric Tilmoth, bore their namesake, a blade of sapphire that glowed with holy power. The other members of the party were a tiefling cleric of Kossuth named Grenar Flamewright, an elven wizardess by the name of Turiela Moonshade, and a Halfling rogue with the talents of sorcery called Johnny Stumbleduck. The Blade was a righteous party, determined to do good as they pursued their goals. Stumbleduck dreamed of opening his own traveling business selling rare and valuable goods. Turiela wished to amass enough power to earn a place in a wizarding guild and advance her arts. Grenar wished to spread the glory of Kossuth, primarily by purifying evil with a handy bonfire. And Alric sought to found an order of knighthood. So the party traveled the Western Heartlands in search of evil, with Anton recording their adventures and aiding where he could. His attraction to Turiela was instant and obvious, and luckily for him she returned the affection. The pair soon became a thing, snuggling into a single sleeping bag a bit separated from the party, where their giggles and moans wouldn’t disturb their slumber. He soon discovered his skills as an artist made him a master infiltrator, making use of magic and his skills with makeup to pass himself as whatever they were investigating.
His moment of glory came when the party was watching a coven of the Cult of the Dragon. They had seen wagons coming in, bearing the bones of some great beast into the cavern, but none knew how many were inside, or what was happening. Anton volunteered to infiltrate, and did so with gusto, garbing himself as a member of the Cult, after days of observing them talking and moving about outside their cavern he had their walk down, their mannerisms, and many of the methods of their bows and some prayers. He walked into the cavern with the next load of bones, moving as though he belonged there, and none questioned it. He moved through the halls, noting the numbers of their foes, finding exits, where the armory was, and even the chapel. In the chapel, the largest cavern of them all, he found them assembling the bones upon the altar, with a high priest of the Cult overseeing the act. In his hand was a large gemstone crusted chest, with what looked like a crystal window on the side. Within swirled a sparking mass of energy, and Anton knew instinctively it was the soul of a dragon awaiting the formation of a body he could take possession of. He slid out quickly, pausing only long enough to sabotage the door to the armory, hoping to deprive some of the cultists of their weapons. When he returned and told the party of what transpired inside the cavern, they wasted no time, and charged. The fight was fierce and bloody, but luckily only half the cultists were able to arm themselves from a second armory Anton had missed. They fought their way to the main chapel, and faced off with the high priest, and the freshly awakened dracolich. The battle wrote the bloody end to their career as they charged in with fury and righteousness in their eyes. Grenar and Alric faced off with the dragon, their holy powers giving them an edge with the freshly awakened dracolich. Turiela and Stumbleduck moving to attack the high priest, with Anton furiously playing his songs, weaving inspiring music around them, and letting out blasts of magic whenever he was able to get a clear shot at either foe. By the end of the battle, Grenar had given his life to become a living inferno, his God granting a death prayer and transforming his devout cleric into an elemental of fire, if just for a short time. Alric lost his left arm to the draco lich, but in echange was able to shear the head off, and kill the beast. Stumbleduck had a kneecap blown off by a blast from the priest, crippling him and forcing him to use a cane for the rest of his life. Only Turiela and Anton came out relatively intact, though both had their share of wounds as well. Luckily, the Cultists had brought the dragon’s horde with the shipments of bones, and the part agreed it was time to end it, to each go their separate ways once more and perhaps meet once a year in Waterdeep to relive old glories. Anton announced his intention to return to Waterdeep, to take up a role as an actor and playwright, and immortalize their adventures in song and tale.
And so he did. For the past two years he has strutted from stage to stage he has strutted, performing his art to the adulation of the crowds. Turiela and he had a tearful farewell, but Anton understood. It had been a moment in time, a temporary spurt of lust and love in the long life of an elf, and he didn’t hold it against her. Whenever she came back to town they would often hook up for another night of passion, but both knew it was not to last, that she would leave the next day, or the next week, to continue in her goal of attaining power in the Art. For Anton, the wanderlust has been rising once more, a desire for new material, for new challenges. So he has decided to see if some new band has need of a chronicler to travel with them, to immortalize their exploits to the end of time!