Zhen Ling Ye

True Spirit Night

"Back off you colourful freak!"

Stats

Character Flaws

Flaw	Description
Echoes of Guilt	Night’s photographic memory ensures he can never forget his past crimes, no matter how much he tries. The haunting image of those he wronged, especially the father and child he stole from, lingers in his mind. This burden makes it difficult for him to forgive himself, leading to moments of self-doubt and hesitation.
The Weight of Words	The Bell of the Tollkeeper grants Night the ability to speak freely, but each time he does, he feels the presence of his patron. Overuse risks drawing its attention in ways he does not yet understand, making him cautious about when and how he speaks.
Shattered Trust	Having lived a life of crime and witnessed the cruelty of the world firsthand, Night struggles to trust others. He constantly questions people’s intentions, often assuming the worst until proven otherwise, making it hard for him to form close relationships.
Wanderer’s Restlessness	Night’s curiosity about the universe and the origins of the Kenku make it difficult for him to stay in one place for too long. He is always chasing knowledge, but this often leaves him disconnected from those around him, as he views the world as temporary stops rather than a home.
The Toll Must Be Paid	Though The Whispering Toll asks for little now, Night knows that power always comes at a cost. He fears the day his patron finally demands something from him—something he may not be willing to give.

Backstory

Zhēn Líng Yè – The Tollkeeper’s Chosen

Zhēn Líng Yè, also known as True Spirit Night, or simply Night, is a Kenku who has spent the past 40 years in isolation. Once a polite and caring individual, he valued those close to him—but when left to fend for himself, he strayed into darkness.

For the first ten years of his 60-year lifespan, Night lived among his family in The Ruined Roost—a secluded Kenku settlement hidden deep within the forest, built within the crumbling remains of an ancient city that some Kenku believe their ancestors once constructed. Though a place of peace and modest happiness, The Ruined Roost was always cloaked in mystery, its origins lost to time. The Kenku who lived there knew little of the outside world, yet their memories—perfect and unbroken—kept their history alive.

In those early years, Night knew only the comfort of his family and the quiet rhythms of village life. Yet, despite the camaraderie, a bitter disagreement with a fellow Kenku led him to make a drastic choice. Rather than remain in the settlement, bound by old grievances and expectations, he walked away from everything he had ever known, venturing into the unknown to forge his own path.

His early years of independence led him into a life of petty crime—pocketing change from distracted stall owners and unsuspecting nobles. It was easy, effortless even. But his path took a dark turn when he unknowingly stole from a desperate father struggling to care for his son. Kenku do not forget. Their memories are unnaturally perfect, and Night could never erase the helpless look in the father’s eyes, nor the skeletal frame of the starving child. That moment defined him.

Haunted by his actions, Night abandoned his criminal ways and fled into the wilderness, seeking to escape both judgment and himself.

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The Hermit’s Awakening

Deep within the heart of the wilds, Night found solace in nature. The trees did not judge. The wind did not demand. Over decades, he became a self-taught herbalist, mastering the delicate balance between poison and cure.

But in the stillness of isolation, something called to him.

At first, it was a whisper—softer than the rustling leaves, lighter than a breath. Then, it became a voice, curling around the edges of his thoughts, slipping into the silence of his lonely nights.

It did not demand. It did not command.

It simply asked him to listen.

And when he did, Night became bound to an entity he called The Whispering Toll.

Whether it was an ancient force, a forgotten deity, or something beyond mortal comprehension, he did not know. It spoke of hidden things, of knowledge buried in the spaces between words, of power hidden in sound. Eldritch energy flowed into him, granting him the destructive force of Eldritch Blast and the venomous touch of Poison Spray. It offered him understanding, allowing him to decipher the languages of the world—though at a cost he has yet to fully understand.

But the true gift was something far more personal.

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The Bell of the Tollkeeper

One evening, as Night wandered the woods, he heard it—a soft, hollow chime, distant yet impossibly near. Following the sound, he found a small, rusted iron bell, half-buried in the roots of an ancient tree.

The moment he touched it, his mind flooded with fragmented whispers, voices just beyond comprehension, a symphony of knowledge he was not meant to understand. When the voices faded, he found himself holding the bell in his clawed fingers. It was small—no larger than his palm—its surface tarnished with age, its handle twisted like gnarled wood. When rung, it produced no sound.

Yet, when Night tried to mimic a voice, something unnatural happened. Instead of a hollow, recorded echo, his own words spilled forth—raw, uncertain, but undeniably his own. The bell had given him speech.

But not without a price.

The Bell’s Properties & Mysteries

• Silent Ringing: No matter how hard Night shakes it, the bell makes no audible sound—yet he feels the reverberation in his bones, and sometimes, so do those around him.
• The Toll’s Warning: On occasion, the bell vibrates faintly in Night’s grasp, as if reacting to unseen dangers or presences.
• Echo of the Toll: If Night closes his eyes and focuses while holding the bell, he sometimes hears voices—whispers of those long gone, words lost to time, secrets never meant to be spoken aloud.
• A Voice of His Own: The bell allows Night to speak freely, no longer bound by mimicry. However, his voice is unnatural, layered with distant echoes. Speaking too much without mimicking drains him, leaving him momentarily aware of his patron’s presence. If he overuses it, the whispers of The Whispering Toll grow louder, a reminder that this power is not truly his.
• Bound by the Toll: If the bell is lost, misplaced, or stolen, it will always return to Night. If stolen, the thief will quickly find themselves confused and unable to recall why they took it. Eventually, the bell will find its way back into Night’s possession—whether by fate, unseen forces, or the will of The Whispering Toll itself.

Night does not know why he was chosen. The Whispering Toll never explained, only that he was worthy. Whether that means he is a mere pawn or something greater, he does not yet know.

All he knows is that the bell is his now. And every so often, when the wind is still, he hears the voice of his patron once more:

"Listen, and the world shall open to you."

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A Wanderer Once More

Despite his withdrawn nature, Night’s alignment shifts between True Neutral and Chaotic Neutral. Sometimes, he is merely a survivor, detached from the morality of others. Other times, the ghosts of his past push him toward fleeting moments of compassion.

Now, after four decades of seclusion, Night steps beyond the boundaries of his self-imposed exile. Whether it is fate, the will of his patron, or the quiet ache of unfinished purpose, he finds himself drawn back into civilization.

The world has changed.

And so has he.