Resda Highgrove

A female Chondathan Wild Sorcerer who speaks Common and Chandathan.

Resda meets the Icewind Dale Party when she disrupts their card game at one of the taverns of Ten Towns by accidentally turning their cards into butterflies.

”Excuse me, I’m prone to uncontrollable fits of magic… want to go on an adventure?”

Background

Growing up in the calm and peaceful town of Daggerford, Resda was always a spirited and vivacious child. The daughter of loving parents, both humble farmers, she enjoyed a simple, peaceful life. However, her existence was abruptly disrupted when she hit her adolescent years and unforeseen powers started awakening within her. Amidst the ordinary hardworking villagers, her abilities made her different, an outcast. Born into a family of humble farmers, Resda's world was one of practicality, not magic. As far as she knew, magic did not run in her family. However, as she grew, so did her unusual capabilities. Items levitating unexpectedly, sparks flaring from her fingertips and ethereal voices whispering in her ears became everyday occurrences.

As Resda was soon to discover, she was a sorceress, a vessel for volatile and unpredictable wild magic. She attempted to keep her newfound abilities a secret, afraid of being seen as a monster or an aberration. Resda quietly practiced control in the dead of night, away from the prying eyes of her small town. It was challenging, but she was making progress. Or at least, she thought she was…

One fateful night, Resda was making her way out to her usual spot to practice when she heard muffled voices coming from within the town hall. As she crept closer to investigate, anxiety building. “Had they finally found her out”, she thought. Resda closed the small distance remaining between her and the building. Since the people inside were talking softly, she could only make out some of what they were talking about.

“We can’t have another incident”…”What can we do?”…”I’ve already sent word”…

Resda slowly made her way to the small window at the front of the building to peer in. As she carefully looked in, she was surprised to see her parents there. Resda realized she heard her mother talking about her great grandmother, but in her disbelief and hurt, couldn’t make out what she said. “What name did she say? Maris? And why was her mother talking to the other villagers about her great grandmother when she knew nothing about her great grandmother?” were some of the many questions racing in her mind. Resda could feel the wild magic starting to surge within as her emotions heightened, and green sparks began dancing along her fingertips. Ignoring this, she opens the door and walks into the building to confront her parents. Stopping at the entryway, seeing the look of fear and apprehension on her parents’ face. As tears starting falling down her face, Resda began shouting her questions at them and took a few pleading steps towards them. Seeing the people step backwards, like she was a monster, was too much to bear. The pain, hurt, betrayal and chaotic magic was too much for Resda. Voices began whispering in her ears, but what were they saying?

A surge of power burst forth from her, brilliant green lighting shooting from her hands, engulfing everyone in a net of chaotically dancing power, and then- nothing but a horrifying, visceral scene remained. For a brief moment, Resda felt a sense of justice…joy…accomplishment? But that feeling was soon quashed as she really started to comprehend what had just transpired. Blood and entrails covered the walls, the memory of her father's wide-eyed shock and her mother's horrified scream etched into her consciousness. The sheer panic that filled the small space as the villagers realized what was coming. Among the horror, a small portrait, now singed, lay near what remained of her mother’s corpse. Resda picked it up, and found it was a woman she did not know yet looked familiar. Could this be her great grandmother? Fear and guilt overcame her and she turned to flee before the other villagers came to investigate, but did not realize someone had already bore witness to what she had done. Keldor stood in the shadows outside of the doorway and spoke up as she was turning to make her exit. “I see I arrive just in time”, he said. “We must go before the villagers come”. Still in shock, Resda went with him. Once they had made it to Keldor’s horse and carriage, he explained to Resda that her parents had contacted him just days before concerned about her growing magic, and was there to take her for apprenticeship. The seemingly benevolent mage promised to use his arcane knowledge to tame her magic, to transform her curse into a controlled ability. Driven by desperation and the lure of such a promise, Resda accepted and they traversed to his castle. Resda would soon learn that Keldor was not as selfless as he appeared and his true intentions were far from kind.

For a time, things seemed to be improving. Keldor’s sessions, although strenuous, seemed to help Resda gain a semblance of control over her magic. However, unbeknownst to her, each session was not for her benefit at all. Keldor was merely studying her wild magic, planning to steal it for himself. He was an aging mage, feeling the weight of time, and he sought to use Resda’s youthful, untamed magic to reverse his own increasing frailty. As Keldor's twisted plot unveiled itself, he initiated the final stage of his plan. Taking advantage of her trust, Keldor revealed his intentions of a grand ceremony - a ritual, he said, that would rid her of her burdensome powers forever. However, the ceremony was nothing more than a sacrificial ritual in honor of the goddess of magic, Mystra, with Resda as the sacrificial lamb. Yet, Resda was not as naive as Keldor had assumed. Over time, she had grown suspicious of the aged mage's actions and motives and discovered his plans just in time. She refused to be the victim, to be powerless again, to let another take control of her life. Though young and inexperienced, Resda’s heart was full of a fiery resolve that belied her years. She would not be a pawn in Keldor's twisted game. As he prepared his sacrificial ceremony, Resda plotted her escape as she was not yet skilled enough to take on a mage as experienced as Keldor. If her escape was successful, Resda knew he would stop at nothing to track her down to finish what he had started.

Departing from Keldor's fortress, Resda was physically and emotionally drained, yet her determination was stronger than ever.

The Journey to Icewind Dale

As Resda sought refuge in a nearby village inn and tavern. Settling into her rented room, she rested on the bed and contemplated her next steps. Who was her great grandmother? What was so special about her power that Keldor would hunt the lands for her? Resda drifted to sleep. Her sleep was disrupted by the same gruesome memory—her father's entrails dripping down the walls, her mother's wide-eyed stare of shock and fear, and the guilt, always the guilt. Resda woke in a panic, tears streaming down her face, and green shocks of energy sparking from her fingers. She had to get out of here before she hurt any more people. It was still fairly early in the night she discovered. Resda headed downstairs to the tavern to decide her next move.

It was there, waiting for her food, she would decide on her destination of Icewind Dale. Resda remembered hearing that many people seeking to live an unencumbered life…or at least a place where people don’t ask too many questions. Leaving behind the only life she has ever known, Resda embarks on a journey marked by peril, adventure, and self-discovery. Her goal - to find information about her great grandmother, unearth her family's hidden past, and gain control over the chaotic magic coursing through her veins before she hurts more people. Little did she know, finding her great grandmother would be the first step in being entangled in a world full of magic, mystery, darkness and a power struggle that would repeatedly test her abilities and her spirit, in ways she would have never imagined.

The next day, Resda found a caravan making their way towards Icewind Dale. It consisted of traders, entertainers, families looking for a fresh start. One fateful evening, however, under a cloud-covered sky, the peace of their journey was abruptly shattered. A group of highwaymen emerged from the forest, hulking figures malnourished by morality, yet fed by greed, intent on looting the convoy and sparing no mercy to those who resisted. The caravan's guards tried valiantly to fend off the attackers, but the highwaymen were too many and too determined. As Resda watched the violence unfolding before her eyes, she felt fear— not for herself, but for the innocent lives caught in the crossfire and what could happen if she unleashed her magic. The echoes of the last time she had tried to help flashed before her eyes - her parents, the splattered blood, the horrified faces. But this, she decided, would be different. She wouldn’t stand by this time. So, she acted. She called forth her magic, let it pour from her fingertips, like the rush of a violent waterfall. The thought, the intention, was to scare off the robbers, to conjure a wall of fire. But wild magic, as it tends to do, deviated from the best-laid intentions. A wall of flame erupted from Resda, but it wasn’t as controlled as she intended. It surged forward, scorching the earth and burning the entire caravan. The highwaymen, the guards, the innocent souls, all caught in the unforgiving inferno. Their screams pierced the night, their desperately pleading eyes imprinted into her memory, echoing the horror she had once witnessed in her parents' faces. In her attempts to save them, Resda had, once again, become the very thing she feared— the destroyer. Fuck. The fire took everything, reducing the caravan to ashes and lives to no more than charred memories. As the smoke cleared, all that remained were the burnt remains of once joyful lives and the heavy silence of mortality. Haunted by her actions, Resda escaped the scene. The poor, haunted sorceress continued her journey, unknowingly carrying the weight of the caravan with her. It seemed that no matter how far she traveled or how hard she tried to control her magic, it always seems to act in its own accord. Resda, plagued by her destructive past, walked alone in a world where she craved what she feared— intimacy. She yearned for human warmth, the comfort of shared laughter, the reassurance of a simple touch, and the bonds formed by mutual trust. Yet, she was painfully aware of the destructive chaos that was part of her. Trodden paths and places teemed with life, yet she felt as cold as the solitary moon. There was a persistent emptiness, a hollowness that gnawed at her from the inside, an echo that bounced off the walls of her barren heart. The image of her parents, of the caravan, and Keldor's vile plan were constant reminders of what love could cost— a price she couldn't bear to pay. She found solace in solitude, for in the absence of people, there was no fear of loss, no dread of causing harm. She became a mysterious figure on the horizon, forever distant, eternally detached. The town's folk and fellow travelers would find her apprehensive and aloof, her persona almost as icy as the landscapes she wandered. Her condition, however tragic, also rendered her powerful. Resda drew strength from her solitude, building walls around her heart as sturdy as a fortress. She had seen first-hand the consequences of her wild magic, and she was determined to prevent any heartache in the future. These protective walls kept others safe, she told herself. Her loneliness was not out of desire for isolation but out of an all-consuming need to protect those she might come to care for. Her love, her care, her touch was all laced with a potent danger, and the chances of bringing innocent people to harm terrified her more than any enemy.

At last, Resda found herself amidst the harsh, freezing winds of Icewind Dale, far from her haunted past and hopefully closer to the answers she has desperately been seeking. Resda found herself in Lonelywood. Looking around she spotted the Lucky Liar tavern. Resda planned on warming up, and finding a place to sleep for the night. She entered the tavern, ordered a mug of mead, and sat at a table. She found mead seemed to help calm her nerves and magic when she needed to be around people. After the second glass, Resda overheard people talking at a nearby table. The mead making her feel like her previous self, Resda loudly asked them why they lived there if the times were so tough. The people looked at her and returned to their conversation with lowered voices. Resda made her way to the bar to order another drink. She made another attempt at making small talk with the barkeep, asking what she liked about living here. “I like that people mostly keep to themselves and don’t ask a lot of questions”, she replied. The barkeep asked Resda where she was from and in a moment of panic, she replied “I don’t remember”. In her travels, Resda didn’t hear any towns talking about any of her past tragedies, but one could never be too certain. Especially since Keldor surely had people out looking for her. The barkeep, looking puzzled, asked Resda what brought her to Lonelywood. Resda explained that she was looking for information about her great grandmother, and learned this may be a good place to start. The barkeep asked Resda what her great grandmother’s name was. “I don’t know”, replied Resda. “But I think this portrait might be of her”. Resda showed the barkeep the portrait and thought she saw a flash of recognition cross her face. “Sorry, she doesn’t look familiar”, the barkeep responded. Resda contemplated ignoring what she saw and against better judgement, asked the barkeep “are you sure, because for a moment there it looked like you recognized her?” The barkeep just looked at her and then said, “you should drink that” nodding towards the swirling blue green liquid in front of Resda.

Resda realized she never asked the barkeep her name, and probably offended her. Just then a group came into the tavern, letting a gust of cold wind and snow.