The two oldest rulers in the Federated Nations are the Immortal Bard and the brass dragon Marcia. They share the nominal leadership of the Council, but rarely participate in the Council's affairs. Predating the Cataclysm, both were there are the final battle and were changed forever. One gained agelessness, the other transformed into a true dragon. Without their help, the refugees would not have thrived...or even probably survived.
Marcia is the use name of the adult brass dragon who resides in the Aerie above Kaelthia and who considers the city and the surrounding day’s flight (~100 miles) her personal horde. Naturally gregarious, she spends much of her time in human form mingling with the common folk. She is known to “request” (order) people to come to her lair and tell her stories. In return she pays them out of the treasures she’s acquired over the last 200 years.
She will not tolerate chaos within the domain she claims, but rarely gets involved in politics. She exercises the ultimate veto over the Council--the last time she used it was to force the Council to join the Federated Nations Council. She and the Immortal Bard are good friends, both having been adventurers in the same band at the time of the Cataclysm.
Demographic Information: Marcia is an adult brass dragon (MM) spellcaster. When transformed, her eyes often betray her by flashing deep red when she gets excited or angry.
Personality: Words? Words! Stories! I love stories. Tell me more stories!
Ideal: Free Thinking. Inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of progress.
Bonds: This city is MINE. Anyone who threatens it will die. Slowly. But not too painfully, because that’s just unnecessary.
Flaw: Easily distracted by Oh, shiny! Has a hard time focusing on the here and now, prefers to live in a world of stories.
Alignment: CG, near the CN border
The Immortal Bard
His true name lost when he gained immortality (agelessness, rather), the Bard was part of the adventuring party that survived the Final Battle of the Cataclysm War and led the surviving refugees south to found Kaelthia. Since then he has wandered restlessly, looking for new sights and sensations. Well, that and fleeing any form of responsibility or commitment. Some wags calculate that he's related to half of the half-elves of the Council Lands. In fact, it's common for a mother who does not wish to publicly state the father of her child to claim him as Bard's-get. Orphans whose names are not known are tagged with the family name of Bardsyn, which has become synonymous with illegitimacy or unsanctioned parentage.
He only rarely gets involved in the Council's affairs, but seems to pop up at inconvenient times for those scheming for power. Most of the powerful people believe that he has some way of teleporting back to Kaelthia as well as a well-developed spy network. It's known that Brightsong Dovara is his daughter and the lyricists are assumed to be working for him. The rest of the Council (with the exception of the Mining representatives) dislikes him strongly and often act spitefully towards those who claim his favor. He also has massive quantities of blackmail on all the important people of the land and can spread rumors like none else.
Demographic Information: The Bard is a young-seeming half-elf, seemingly careless and happy-go-lucky. His hair and beard are brown and short. He stands about 6' tall and is slender and graceful. Only his green eyes betray his age. They're constantly scanning the surroundings and noting everything that happens. He dresses in simple clothes except for his capes, which are all long, billowing (as if enchanted) and extravagant. Mechanically he's a low T2 bard with a collection of magical gewgaws and tricks he's picked up here and there.
Personality: Whenever I come to a new place, I collect local rumors and spread gossip.
Ideal: Freedom. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them.
Bond: My instrument is my most treasured possession, and it reminds me of someone I love.
Flaw: I hate to admit it and will hate myself for it, but I'll run and preserve my own hide if the going gets tough.