As swift with a coarse jest as he is with his scythe, Nari the Lucky is a fickle and quaint ally. Clad in armor of burnished steel and gold, this trickster speaks not of his origins and conceals his face neath a leering mask, never revealing his true self. He will pilfer anything that has not been nailed down and waylay his own comrades-in-arms with nasty pranks. And yet the unnatural good fortune that follows him cannot be denied.
Of course, every story has a beginning. Many, many years ago, before the Kingdom of the Dwarves barred its gates to the world above, there lived a rogue and adventurer. He scoffed at the narrow-minded obstinance of his kin and sought to learn as much as he could of the wonders of Teleria in his travels; ever was he eager to pursue local fables and the tall tales innkeepers told to regale their guests. More often than not, they led the young Nari on a wild goose chase. But, sometimes, those tales held a seed of sinister truth.
One such tale brought Nari to a small island off the north coast of Kaerok, the land of emerald dales and tall mountains where fae folk were said to dwell in great number. Rivers as clear and fair as a diamond in moonlight ran free from the mountain slopes and wound round many a forest, and over those streams, there rose rainbows as bright as any could imagine. One such rainbow stood out among others. A tremendous prismatic arch that would never fade, not even when the shroud of the night covered the land. Legends claimed it led to a hidden grotto, where a fabulous treasure lay.
That was the prize Nari sought, and many were his perils as he traveled the wondrous island. Both beast and spirit he had bested by wit and by blade until, at long last, the road led him to the secret refuge amid moss-grown cliffs and sonorous waterfalls. There, a final challenge awaited. A fay whose name the story did not preserve stood guard over an artifact of untold value – a pot of gold that would never run out. A battle ensued, but it could not decide the victor, and Nari suggested a game of riddles to settle the matter. Had he lost, his life would have been forfeit. Had he won, the magic pot would be his to claim.
The two matched wits for a day and a night without respite. Slowly, Nari began to tire, and so he had summoned all his cunning and tricked the fay with a riddle that could not be answered. Thus defeated, the guardian acquiesced, for Nari was clever enough to uphold the letter of the rules, if not their spirit. Yet he had not forgiven deception and rewarded the canny dwarf with a curse.
As Nari had shown the guile worthy of fae folk that day, a fay he would become. The pot of gold was his by right, yet he would become its immortal guardian in turn. He would wander the lands of Teleria and have no home, no kin, nor peace until the sunset of the last day. And so Nari the Lucky set out on the road once more, an eternal rogue and vagabond seeking adventures until the end of time.