This character has probably been my all-time favorite to play. Definitely the longest and most consistent ever. She is currently Level 19 as we are nearing the end of an incredible ~5-year campaign. When brainstorming the character at the start, I knew that I wanted to play something a bit more atypical. Big brutes and glass cannons are always fun to play, but I wanted to give a support role a shot this time around. I had never played or had a witch in the party before, so I wanted to explore those uncharted waters. 

I was initially drawn to the Witch class because of all the hexes, debuffs, and crowd control options, but what sealed the deal for me was when I discovered the Patron of Time. Every one of those Patron spells were exactly what I was looking for. Silence and Haste were early on the Patron spell list and saw extensive use in almost every encounter. What really had me hooked, though, was the Patron spell at Level 18: Time Stop. Sure, it took me over four years and 80+ sessions to get there, but the payoff was so sweet when I finally did.

The party was trying to foil an evil vampire summoning ritual. There were swarms of ghouls. Demon lords. The works. At the center of all of this was a book. The vampire lords in the region had been in a tense stalemate, but this book could tip the balance of power in its owner’s favor. We had to capture it. Enter Level 18 Eve with her newly acquired Time Stop. But, that’s a story for a different time.

Eve has undergone quite the transformation as a character, both inside and out. Her Lawful Good alignment has taken an accelerated turn towards Chaotic Good. For, in the face of the infinite fabric of time, what are these silly constraints most mortals bind themselves with. Her appearance is almost indistinguishable from how she started. She traded her youth for the gift of intelligence and now is a weathered old woman who is leading an underground religious movement. She also unexpectedly found her place amongst a coven of hags who have persisted over the ages. But again, these are all stories for later. 

For now, we’re starting back at the beginning. Here’s a little look into how Eve found herself in the party that ascended through adversity to find themselves leading The Final Crusade.

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PROLOGUE

The hawk circled high above me as I rode. My sturdy mount paid it no attention, but I felt the bird’s eyes on me. Its gaze was a cold and constant presence that followed me from the hermit’s hut. I tried to convince myself that it was merely a coincidence, but I knew that the old lady’s words were true. The hawk proved it.

I pulled my cloak tighter to try and keep out the early winter chill. The hawk screeched as I remembered the old lady’s words. She had told me that I was serving the wrong gods. That my efforts were empty and misguided. I had been sent to bring her back to the flock, a last lifeline for a lost sister, but it was I who was converted. What I was converted into, I was not sure. I simply knew that I was not the same.

My mount’s hooves crunched in the early morning frost. I had ridden through the night since my encounter with the old woman. The cold and fatigue weighed on me, but my worry of what she had done to me hung heavier. I hoped that returning to the monastery would put me back in sorts. It had been my home as long as I remembered and I longed for something familiar. Something to help shake this feeling. I yearned for a bath, but knew this was something I could not simply wash off.

The Chapter was the only family I had ever known, despite not looking like the other members. As the only elf in the region, I was treated with a cold curiosity that I sometimes mistook for genuine interest. With no real friends to distract me, I was able to dedicate myself fully to my studies. There I excelled. Neither The Chapter leaders nor my contemporaries could deny my talents. Even at a young age I found myself in an elevated position in The Chapter. It made me the target of envy and resentment, but dedicating my life to the Ecclesium gave me purpose.

When the message came from the Grand Ecclesiarch I was confused at first. He had written me in his own hand, but the mission hardly seemed to warrant the correspondence. He pulled me away from my projects and sent me to a backwater. All to track down a single lost soul. Others were envious when word spread that I was personally tasked by the Grand Ecclesiarch, but it felt more like a curse than a blessing. Still, I obliged his orders and left the monastery in search of an old woman.

The journey was long, but not terribly taxing. I traveled light and was hardly a burden for my horse. The weather was pleasant then and the last red leaves of fall clung to the trees. Despite not having much of a lead to go on, it did not take me long to find her. Everyone in the area knew who she was, but nobody dared to speak her name. They spat after mentioning her as though they were exorcising poison.

When I found her cabin, it was covered in ravens. They squawked, conversing amongst themselves as I approached. Black feathers fluttered around. Despite the birds, the cabin was well-made and tidy. The feathers never seemed to settle on the ground no matter how long they danced about. I tied my mount to a tree and went to the door. I knocked, but it produced no noise.

“No one’s in there,” her voice cracked beside me.

She was sitting in a sturdy rocking chair on the porch to my right. She clenched a billowing pipe in her teeth as she continued speaking.

“I didn’t much feel like cleaning,” she cocked her head towards her house and took a puff. “Figured I’d just meet you out here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you as I approached.” I retraced my approach and wondered how I missed her. “Who told you I was coming?”

“I couldn’t remember when exactly you were coming back, but I’m glad to see you again.”

“I’m afraid we’ve never met,” I took a step towards her, but seemed no closer. “I don’t even know what to call you.”

“That depends on what you call yourself now.”

“Sister Eva at your service,” I feigned a bow without taking my eyes off her.

“Ah,” she cackled through the smoke. “That’s when it is. I saw your friend around earlier, but didn’t realize you haven’t met yet this time around.”

“My horse is no friend, merely a means of transportation.”

A hawk screeched in the distance and the sound stabbed at my ears.

“He’s mad you don’t remember him,” she said as she came to stand before me.

I took a step back, but was unable to put distance between us. We were eye to eye and her smell overwhelmed my senses. She smelled like an old dusty library. One that was pleasant and familiar. Somewhere I had spent much time. Her smoke stung my eyes as she spoke again.

“Circles within circles and wheels within wheels. Time is not something that starts at one point and ends at another. Time emanates from everything and surges around us. Some people surrender themselves to the flow of time by breathing their last. Others fight against it in a futile attempt to live on forever in stories or memories. Most people ignore time and take its power over us as a foregone conclusion. Even your gods are powerless against time.”

“Your lies have no sway over me,” I searched for my horse, but it was nowhere to be seen.

“You’ll find no falsehood in my words. Everyone is bound to time. But you will learn that time is also bound to you. Just like two people pulling on opposite ends of a rope, when you learn to pull back, you’ll find that you also have power over time. Grow strong enough and you can guide it this way and that. Grow stronger still and you can tame it. Make it do your bidding.”

She reached out her arm and a hawk landed on it as light as a snowflake. It looked at me with piercing yellow eyes. It stretched its wings and let out a shriek that brought me to my knees.

“He is yours and you are his,” she rested her hand on my head and lowered the bird to my shoulder.

It hopped off her hand onto my shoulder. I felt the tips of its talons pierce my skin. The pain radiated through me, but soon faded into a familiar warmth. The hawk nuzzled against me and I didn’t push it away.

“Rise for your mark,” she commanded me with her voice.

I was compelled to my feet and stood before her. I felt the hawk’s heart beating fast. The old lady licked her thumb and brought it to my right cheek. I tried to turn from her, but her other hand held me by a clump of hair. Her thumb pressed against my skin and it sizzled like a brand. I shrieked and the hawk echoed me. Our voices tumbled over each other through the empty forest.

“You will realize your true power,” she said, enveloping me in a hug. “In time, child. All in good time.”

And with that, she was gone.

I stumbled back away from the porch and was surrounded by silence. The ravens were gone and there wasn’t a single feather in sight. This made it all the more jarring when I looked to my right and was still met by the yellow eyes of the hawk. I shooed it from my shoulder, and it lifted high into the night sky. I ran for my horse and sped through the night.

***

I tried to fall back into my old life at the monastery and it was going well for a time. Everyone assumed that I was successful on my mission, so I never bothered correcting them. I was welcomed back with cheers, but over the following weeks found myself sitting alone at meals and during study. Whispered rumors spread about me, and everyone stared at my scar when they thought I would not notice.

My favorite tasks were soon assigned to others and when questioned as to why, the leaders would say my faith was faltering and they did not want me to drag others down with me. I hated the hawk, an ever-present reminder of what had been taken from me.

When the letter was slid under my door, I did not cry. It was the only home I had ever known, but I was no longer sad to leave it behind. They were making me leave. They said I was chosen for The Crusade because of all I had accomplished, but I knew that it was because they no longer wanted me here. They said they awaited my glorious return, but again, I knew they hoped I would find my end.

I packed my things at once. As I bustled about my room, I caught my reflection in the small washbasin. I touched the mark on my cheek, tracing it lightly. It was a dark scar, hooked and wicked like the beak of a hawk.

With that, the hawk burst through my window. It perched on the windowsill and cocked a head at me. Instead of hurling projectiles and insults at it like usual, I gave it a single understanding nod.

“Let’s go friend.”