Played by LeeKoii
Florien Wolfric was born a couple seconds after his twin brother Faust. The two were identical, set apart only by their different hair colours, one blue and one tinged with red. And of course, there was the glowing halo settled above Florien’s head. He was an Aasimar, which meant the noble Wolfric family expected great things from him.
As children, he and Faust were close, but expectations drove them apart. Driven by competition, the brothers saw each other less as allies. His upbringing was strict, restrictive, nearly cutthroat in the way he was taught.
To no one’s surprise, Florien crumbled under pressure.
He struggled with the arcane and the responsibilities that came with being the future heir, whilst Faust proved to be more capable, leading the family to turn their attention to him instead. Despite his efforts to prove himself, Florien had lost his family’s faith in him. With the spotlight no longer hanging overhead, he found himself playing the role of his brother’s double. A few illusion spells here and there, and he was practically a mirror image. Gradually, Florien Wolfric ceased to exist, and the public only knew of one Wolfric son—Faust.
Still, Florien sought to prove himself. He was fascinated by magic, and though he was not innately gifted, he wanted to find a method that worked at his pace. The Wolfric family believed that one should be capable of drawing power from oneself, and held a general distaste for Warlocks. That, however, was the exact path Florien set upon.
He searched for answers, for any form of guidance that would help him find his place in the world. The Wolfric manor’s basement—formerly Faust’s room—was now his to use, tucked away from the prying eyes of the servants and family members. Living in Faust’s shadow meant that Florien was left to his own devices for the most part outside of his duties. He would sneak off when his presence was not required, finding solace in the privacy.
One fateful day, he attempted to form a pact with a voice that reached out to him. The ritual was cut short when Faust barged in and attacked him, mistaking the arcane sigils for something more sinister in nature. As a result of the altercation, Florien’s left eye was left blinded and his face scarred. In his family’s eyes, he could no longer serve the one role he’d been given. Not with those scars. He was dismissed even further and left in the background. Forbidden to practice warlock magic, essentially living a monotonous, aimless routine. The scarred child, whose existence would never be acknowledged.
Eventually, Florien decided he would be better off leaving. The Wolfric manor felt more like a cage than a home, and every second spent there only felt as though he was wasting away his life. He wanted a do-over, a chance to be out in the world where no one knew who he was.
The escape was not simple, but thankfully he had a few friends that lent him their aid.
SARIEL
Anyone who had the chance to meet Sariel would likely tell you the same thing:
They knew close to nothing about him.
Beyond the ethereal halo that marked him unmistakably as an Aasimar, the rest of him was a puzzle—scraps of image and implication held together by silence. He dressed like a pirate—an eyepatch, the scars to match, the swaggering boots—but if asked, he’d deny it with almost comical insistence.
When questioned further, he had a habit of not answering… or not being there at all.
It was a tendency that made making allies difficult, and friends nearly impossible.
And then came the quest in Revellia.
Like all great tales, it began in a tavern, where mead flowed freely and the night hummed with laughter and spilled secrets. A chaotic, ragtag group came together to solve a mystery involving disappearances in a quiet town.
It was there that Sariel joined his first adventuring party—though, in truth, he quietly hoped he might call them something else. Friends.
One dead wizard and several wagon mishaps later, they uncovered the truth: Revellia was caught in an endless time loop, spun from a father’s desperate attempt to preserve his daughter’s life.
With the day saved, Sariel bid farewell to Pymis, who chose to remain for the sake of love, and departed with the others.
The tavern welcomed them once more, and in true adventurer’s fashion, another quest awaited.
The town was called Mere—a den of filth and secrets, where gold bought silence, and silence could kill. Sariel hadn’t expected much from Mere. And yet, everything changed.
With the right coin and the wrong questions, old truths surfaced.
Rona Loran was the first to uncover his secret: that he was a member of the Wolfric family—a name etched deep into the power struggles of Waterdeep. He had done everything to keep that truth buried… but family names have a way of clawing their way back into relevance.
He begged Rona to keep his secret—he wasn’t ready to share it with the rest.
And through whispered promises and shared glances, the two became close. Closer than Sariel had expected. For the first time in a long while… he didn’t feel quite so alone.
He began to learn more about the people around him. Showing support wasn’t easy—but he tried. In his own strange way, he tried.
Aside from an outburst in the back halls of a casino—and one particularly tense night in the chambers of The Dishonored’s leader—Sariel kept a level head. Even if he fled those same chambers the next morning, despite vowing to fight the man just hours prior.
As Mere’s tale reached its end, Sariel found himself more distant than he’d meant to be.
Earlier in the journey, a whisper about a long-lost family member had left him shaken. And then came the other blow—Rona intended to return to Waterdeep. To confront her own past.
And Sariel—despite everything—had promised to go with her.
To stand beside her.
To help her in whatever lay ahead.
The road to Waterdeep was paved with uncertainty. But before the city even came into view, a promise was made between them—quiet, but binding:
“Promise me—no matter what happens in Waterdeep, we stay friends.”