Lord Entertainer Fabian

For all his existence, Lord Entertainer Fabian has dwelled in Aravia. His father, Patrice, was a Kaerokean diplomat to the High Elves. In his youth Fabian was tutored in horse riding, swordsmanship, and magic, as any noble son of Aravia would. He was well-liked by his Elven teachers for his impeccable manners and his grace and style in all things. He was, they said, ‘exceptional for a Human’. For his part, Fabian loved the Aravians’ high standards, especially in the glamour of formal occasions. He longed to take a place in high society. Fabian admired the High Elves’ Festival of Creation celebrations most. His father periodically held them himself, until Fabian requested at his coming-of-age that he organize them. Patrice gladly granted permission, as the work was onerous indeed. Fabian relished it. Not only did he host an event annually, but within a decade they were regarded as the best in Aravia. The events Fabian held were seen as the embodiment of tasteful sophistication, a perfect balance of opulence and restraint. He carefully managed every last detail, whether that be the kind of lace used for his musicians’ costumes, the wine accompaniment to the eighth course, the precise shade of blue for napkins, or how many buttons his servers’ waistcoats should have. Fabian preferred just one thing to organizing his events: seeing his guests enjoy them. He hoped the High Elves would come to fully accept him, not just see him as an ‘exceptional’ Human. But they did not. The Aravians liked, even loved, Fabian, affectionately calling him the ‘Lord of Levity’, but he was never one of them. Fabian’s death was sudden and premature. His body was found with a terrible head injury, and the murder was never solved. By popular demand, Fabian was posthumously granted full citizenship by Queen Eva herself and declared ‘Lord Provisioner of the Grand Ball of the Festival of Creation’ in perpetuity. Furthermore, plans for the next three years’ worth of his parties were discovered in his private offices. A public fund ensured all were held to Fabian’s exact specifications and were celebrated successes, though a shade of sadness hung over them. Fabian had won his acceptance, but was not alive to experience it. In his silver filigree and mahogany coffin, Fabian did not rest well. His soul ached to return to Teleria, for he knew he had much life to live and many more magnificent events to hold. He burst from his grave the night of the third and final party he had planned before his death, and witnessed it unfold through a window. The joviality was wonderful to behold. He also saw his new spectral form – still bearing the marks of the injuries that killed him – reflected in the glass. He was wearing a beautiful party mask, one he’d commissioned for the very event he was witnessing. It seemed his mourners had used it as a funerary mask for him. Were he able to cry, he would have wept for hours. What had become of him to end up like this even he did not know. He knew however he could not join his guests in his condition. Fabian resolved to continue his work regardless. The very next year, he held a magnificently successful party. As far as the guests were concerned, an anonymous donor had volunteered to organize the event in Fabian’s honor, their name kept secret so as not to distract from that purpose. And so it has continued ever since, for years, the people believing that each event was funded by a private individual in Fabian’s memory. The ‘Lord Entertainer’, as he became known, lives in his mansion, his Undead soul bound to it and his ancestral staff due to his love for home and family in life. He cannot leave. But even if he could, to do so would render him extremely vulnerable. Being Undead, necromancers and Siroth himself can take control of his will. Fabian is safe only because of close friends. Not only did they discover him and not destroy him, they layered magical wards across his estate. Furthermore, they made the legal arrangements to protect his ownership of his mansion. Most importantly of all to Fabian, his friends keep him company. He finally knows how appreciated he is, and takes much joy seeing others enjoy his events, but it hurts him that his Undeath means he cannot partake in them. His friends’ smiles, their words of encouragement, all give him strength to continue. With King Tayba’s War raging, he has needed this more than ever, for he intends his next celebration to be his greatest yet, to bring cheer to his bloodied people and to prove his dedication to the High Elves. He is sorely tempted to appear before his guests and remove his mask.