History[]
Callil Brambleheart
Prior to her arrival in Babel, Callil was a wandering minstrel, with a portable keyboard strapped to her back as she traveled from town to town. Prior to that, she was the daughter of a farmer in Richtkopf, until her mesmerist powers began to work properly. Already unsettling to the people of the plains, her supposed parents sent her packing, as much to protect themselves as to get rid of her. Still, they set her up with the tools she had, and taught her how to defend herself. They were good folk, but Callil had always been a little.... off. Part of that was her desire to worship Desna instead of Erastil, The Tender of Dreams calling much more strongly to her than Ol' Deadeye ever had. Part of it was her mismatched eyes, one the bright green of fresh grass, the other the amber hue of fields of wheat. There was just something subtly twisted about the woman, a feeling common to many changelings, hag-daughters. Since she left home, there has been this odd itch at the back of her shoulders, as if she were supposed to be somewhere else. She made her way across the sea to find the city of Babel, seeking, well, even she isn't sure quite yet.
Since Arrival[]
Since arriving in Babel, having had to sell her keyboard for passage, Callil has had some luck making her money back in gambling dens with a spot of adventuring on the side, so far having helped to protect Lady Luck from the Tweedle brothers.
Fey Craftsmanship[]
Having helped with that adventure, Callil found an invitation on her doorstep to assist the Court of Monsoons with the production of an artifact of great beauty. Intrigued, she followed the instruction to make her way to the Court, where she was quickly put to work helping to haul things around for a while, until she spotted a different way to make a bit of help. Hands clasped behind her, she strolled her way over to an appraiser's table to assist a number of the fey with the various bits and bobs and baubles they had found. Certainly, her skills with appraisal itself were not the best, but the stories she wove to attempt to make the most mundane seem magical in nature were certainly appreciated by the fey she spent her time with. A small pocketwatch was a portal to a plane of infinite time, a bright red ruby was a drop of dragon's blood. A piece of paper with random scrawlings were the last ravings of a mad magician, created in a few final moments of lucidity before they were affected by a terrible spell which turned them into a common housecat. An empty, corked vial was the sound of laughter in the rain, a child's painting was a last glimpse at a forgotten realm. She used a single gold coin to tell a tale of fate and wonder, remarking upon how even the most insignificant decisions could have vast ramifications down the line. Truly, stories to keep spirits up during the two days she helped was the largest contribution she made, assisting flagging spirits in the sprint towards the finish line of crafting the artifact. Her contribution being admittedly small, she did not expect much recompense for the project at all. This was, at best, a wonderful distraction from what she had been doing previously, and a chance to get out of the city for a bit to lay low after the gambling and charlatan deeds she had previously performed, and a chance for the changeling to mingle with the fey was a chance she would take. She felt a kinship to them, for some reason.