 |  BASICS - Name: Kallan “Kal” Fitz Montagnac - Race: Autumn Eladrin (Custom Lineage) - Class: Rogue 2 / Fighter 1 - Background: Smuggler - Alignment: Chaotic Good - Character Sheet |
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SUMMARY
Kallan is an eladrin born of the Feywild but raised among mortals after mysteriously crossing into the material plane as a child. Orphaned yet again in spirit when his father vanished into Tantaros’ military and left to scrape by with his mother, he found refuge in fencing lessons and stories of the city’s corruption. Restless and hungry for purpose, he joined the smugglers’ guild as a teenager, where his skill with a rapier and willingness to risk everything made him invaluable. Though he thrives on the adrenaline of danger, Kallan is driven by a deeper conviction: to bring food, medicine, and hope to the refugees cast aside by Tantaros’ rulers. Now, as a deadly plague ravages the camps and the city tightens its grip, he walks the line between outlaw and protector, caught between helping others and keeping himself alive.
NAMES AND LOCATIONS
- Irontrail - The village Kallan grew up in
- Brennor Halveth - Uncle
- Selara Montagnac - Mother
- Dareth Montagnac - Father
- Various Smugglers’ Guild People
- Sawbuck - Kallan’s familiar (he’s a great-eared nightjar (owl statblock))
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FULL BACKSTORY
Circumstances of Birth / Cultural Heritage
Kallan, like most eladrin, was born in the Feywild. However, due to forces beyond his reckoning, he somehow crossed over into the material plane around the age of two. He came through near Irontrail, a small village in Bastalo, and was taken in by his adoptive parents Dareth and Selara Montagnac.
Early Life
Kallan was very close with both his parents. His father was in the military before he was adopted, but he was still of drafting age when Kallan was a young kid. The city of Tantaros called him back into service, where he disappeared and hasn’t been seen since.
For much of his childhood and adolescence, it was just him and his mother. They eeked out an existence, but there was far from enough money for anything besides surviving. They lived in a small village in Bastalo, and were close with their neighbors. His uncle (no blood relation; a military friend of his father’s), taught him fencing from a young age, among other skills, including horseback riding. He also began to learn about the politics in Tantaros from his uncle’s complaining.
Soon, his skill with a rapier surpassed what his uncle could teach. He began to grow restless from being cooped up in the village, so his mother encouraged him to go out and try to make a living for himself in Tantaros. At age 16, he packed up and headed West.
Upon his arrival at the walls of Tantaros, he was unfortunately reminded of his uncle’s complaints when guards barred his entry to the city. He spent the rest of that day watching all manners of people looking for a better life were barred from the city. That night, he found one of several sprawling refugee encampments a few miles outside the walls of the city, where he met a member of the smuggler’s guild, and joined on the spot.
Middle / Adult Life
Ever since his journey to Tantaros, Kallan has been a member of the smugglers’ guild. He quickly proved useful — his skill with a rapier impressed even the hardened veterans of the guild. At first, he ran simple errands: carrying letters past guards, ferrying food through back alleys, or acting as a lookout. But his restlessness and ambition earned him more dangerous work.
Kallan grew into the role of a courier and bladesman for the guild, slipping through shadows and narrow gaps in the city walls. He and his crew smuggled bread, medicine, and blankets to the refugee camps, but not all their work was so noble. Luxury goods and black-market weapons moved just as easily in his hands. Though the guild often dealt in greed, Kallan gravitated toward the jobs that gave to those outside the walls, feeling a quiet satisfaction when a family of refugees had food for another night.
Despite the danger, he stayed. Part of him longed to rise above the petty struggles of the guild, but another part relished the sense of purpose it gave him. A selfish part of him relished in the adrenaline of a mission and the danger of a chase.
Recently, a new disease of unknown origin swept across Kalerica, striking hardest in the refugee camps outside Tantaros’ walls. At first, whispers of the sickness were dismissed as fearmongering until the truth became undeniable. Victims seemed healthy for a day after infection, but once symptoms set in, they became ravenous and violent, driven only to spread the plague. Families were torn apart overnight, and the camps turned into places of both mourning and terror.
The city of Tantaros reacted not with aid, but with fear. The walls, once difficult to pass, became nearly impenetrable. Soldiers patrolled with doubled watch, trade was strangled under endless inspections, and refugees were driven further from the city. The once-thriving smuggler routes grew deadly. Inside the city, panic and rumor spread as quickly as the disease itself, and the ruling council decreed harsher penalties for anyone caught moving supplies in or out without sanction.
For Kallan, this was both a curse and a calling. The guild lost people every week: some infected, some caught, some simply vanished. Yet the need outside the walls had never been greater. Smuggling food and medicine into the camps had become an act of defiance, and Kallan’s work was no longer just about coin or restless adventure. Each successful run meant survival for families who had been abandoned by the city’s rulers. Still, every mission carried risk, much higher now, that he be caught or infected.