Sorrel Thyme

Backstory

Sorrel Thyme grew up in a small agricultural town with his dads, Beiro and Carric. The population was mostly made up of wood elves, dwarves, or travelers. definitely weren’t rich, but for the most part did okay. He and his dads had a herd of sheep that they relied on, but also had Sorrel deliver crates or help people move goods whenever he was free to make ends meet, which allowed Sorrel to develop a little bit of muscle mass. Sorrel’s relationship with his parents wasn’t the best, he thought they were overbearing, overprotective, and never let him out of their sight for a majority of his childhood- but he knew they were well intentioned. Sorrel had some trouble with making friends because of that, in addition to just being introverted naturally. Friends came and went but no one really stuck. Sorrel’s life was slow up into his early adult years, consisting mostly of going to school, buying and selling at the market, or reading at the library. Sorrel was, and still is, fascinated by history and civilizations that came before. A lifelong goal of his was to become a historian or an archivist at a large library in some far off city, becoming famous for his collection of ancient tomes and knowledge. 

But when Sorrel was 121, a terrible winter hit his hometown. Nearly half of their sheep died and the others were gaunt and wouldn’t survive much longer. Sorrel, not wanting to add to the economic stress his parents would no doubt be feeling in the coming seasons, reluctantly suggested enlisting in a nearby military training camp. Beiro and Carric discussed him leaving, eventually agreeing that it would be the safest course of action for all of them if Sorrel left. Deep down he was hoping his parents would want him to stay and pursue his dreams, but he left once they had told him their decision. 

Almost as soon as Sorrel arrived at registration, he was overwhelmed. He was surrounded by people with rippling muscles and towering physiques, races he hadn’t encountered before, and loud sergeants shouting at the crowd of to-be cadets. After going through a short period of processing, he was given a crappy suit of armor to practice in and a generic longsword, amongst other amenities like workout clothing and toiletries. The days started at dawn and ended at sundown. Nearly every moment was full of drills and tests, which made Sorrel tired and his muscles sore. He hated it. Even more than he expected he would. He wanted to be home, but knew he couldn’t go back. It filled him with dissatisfaction and unhappiness, which he pushed down and refused to acknowledge. He would get through this for his parents. 

The only time went he felt he could relax was when he was in the barracks. Everything and everyone else felt like a blur but his bunkmate provided respite- and friendship. Calen Amarillo. Calen and Sorrel instantly connected, they shared an interest in dunamancy (though they were interested for different reasons) and were both drows. The boys stayed together for all nine months of the boot camp, confiding in each other if they needed to vent, or if they were overwhelmed, but for the most part just talking like boys do. Sorrel had never had a friend to talk to before, the optimistic in Calen rubbing off on him and making him imagine perfect futures without struggle or pain. They shared their dreams and promised each other they would reach their goals. Calen wanted to be a world renown hero that protects the weak, known for his name instead of his family’s. Sorrel still wanted to be a historian, even after having much of his timid nature squeezed out of him from the military, now taking a particular interest in ancient combat styles and weapons. Calen teased him for being a nerd, but never discouraged him.

At long last, their training period ended. It was time for the duo to part ways, pursue their ideal future. In the end neither of them wanted to; that “ideal future” didn’t exist without their other half. They decided to stick together, joining a rag-tag team of artifact hunters calling themselves The Weathers. While their main goal is to collect and sell magical relics, they will not shy away from mercinary work if it pays well enough. Calen in particular was unhappy with the Weathers refusal to help for the sake of helping and would often go against orders and save people in trouble. Sorrel on the other hand was ecstatic that he got to see ancient artifacts up close and personal so often. He knew they would be sold eventually and it did pain him, but he always recorded everything he could about the objects in a small notebook he carries around. 

One day, Sorrel and a handful of other members were excavating near a burial site when they were ambushed by bandits. They were easily fought off, but Calen was skimmed by an arrow that (unknown to any of The Weathers) was tipped with an incredibly deadly poison that infected the body from inside out. Sorrel dressed his wound as best he could, distracted by how close they were to another historical find. After a week the wound had almost healed completely and Calen felt perfectly fine.  A week later the wound started to turn black, but he refused to tell anyone- especially Sorrel- as to not worry the group. Another week passed and veins that were near the wound started to become visible through his purple skin, appearing black and infected. The blackened veins continued to spread across his body, all leading up towards his head and neck. At one point, Calen had charged into a fight to protect a caravan from a band of orcs, but was struck with a piercing pain in his side that originated from the arrow wound. He failed to protect the caravan and guilted himself over it for days. Despite everyone's combined efforts, he died 3 days later, after the black veins reached his neck and cut off blood flow to his brain. 

Sorrel blames himself for Calen’s death, recalling his dressing of the wound and failure to see that something was off. His last words (“Sorr’... I’m so sorry...”)* were burned into Sorrel’s mind and he decided that if Calen couldn’t have his ideal future, neither could he. He fell into a deep and all consuming depression, staying with The Weathers and searching for anything that reminded him of Calen. Occasionally he swears that his echo looks exactly like Calen, but it's just his eyes playing tricks on him. Time blurs together, months pass. 

Eventually, Sorrel is able to function and fight effectively again. It’s after his next outing with The Weathers that he truly understands how much of a physical impact Calens death has had on him. He is injured in a tousle with some goblins, but when he tries to sleep it off he finds himself restless, afraid, and paranoid. He’s scared of something finding its way into his wounds. He does drift asleep after a couple hours, quickly awaking with flashes of Calen’s mortal injury and black veins rapidly spreading across his body wracking Sorrel’s mind. He quietly gets up and begins to meticulously scrub every wound that he has with water (tearing off scabs in the process) until he deems them “clean”. Sorrel develops a compulsion to continue to do this ritual every night, fearing death if he misses even one cut. Luckily, as an elf, he doesn’t need to sleep for an entire 8 hours so this doesn’t exhaust him. 

5 years later, now aged 153, Sorrel hasn’t truly accepted that his friend is gone. He has, however, moved on from The Weathers, instead doing odd jobs with Avner, Cloud, and Lander. They know nothing from his past, aside from being a soldier, and he plans to keep them at arms length from fear of hurting them. He writes letters to Beiro and Carric occasionally, apologizing for how long he’s been gone, and assuring them that he’s alive and doing okay. 

* Sorr is Calen’s nickname for Sorrel, pronounced like sore 

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