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Hydnaf'aal by DisamisSpeaker.

Postby kembaru » Sun Oct 01, 2006 11:35 pm

Name: Hydnaf’aal

Race: Drowolath
Age: 50
Steel gladius, worn in a scabbard at his side
Bowie knife in scabbard, tucked into his right boot
A small leather pouch, worn on a neck cord, with 15 Ada, 30 gold coins in it.
Water proofed backpack, containing:
A dark colored bedroll, for use in the wilds
Two steel utility knives (both in scabbards)
20 meters of spider silk rope
A scroll case containing several maps of underwater cavern networks and major trade passages
A sharpening stone
A small sack containing several edible mushrooms picked in the wild, and two pieces of dried fish (feeds one person for 3-4 days if you really stretch it)
A sturdy canteen
2 extra brown tunics
Extra set of gray-blue spider silk shirt and pants
Extra socks
plain brown tunic
dark gray spider silk cloak
gray-blue spider silk shirt and pants, tight but fitted properly, worn under the tunic
socks and sturdy boots
spider silk bracer on left forearm, decorated with monster teeth

Magic: Basic light sorcery (innate, untrained)
Beginning City: Chel’el’sussoloth
Clan: None

Background: Hydnaf’aal was born the third child of Enij’adi, a merchant of Doebrimm’linthel, and Kie’varun, a prominent cave diver. His parents’ relationships was an extension of their economic partnership, and another child, and a male at that, was no cause for celebration. Enij’adi was busy not only managing her trading network, but also training her two older daughters to inherit her business. The elder of her daughters, Gheyolae, was given the test of raising him, in addition to her other duties.

Gheyolae was not intentionally cruel towards her little brother, but had little interest in raising him. Furthermore, Gheyolae despised the life of a merchant that her mother had forced her into, and so was unwilling to teach her brother about the profession.

Fortunately for Gheyolae, her mother was slain in a dwarven attack on a caravan when Hydnaf’aal was five. Gheyolae and her sister immediately began to sell off their mother’s mercantile business, but what to do with Hydnaf’aal was a problem. Neither of them were interested in keeping him, but he was too young to be effectively sold as a slave.

However, while they were settling their mother’s estate, Kie’varun stopped by to pay Enij’adi a visit, ignorant of her death. Gheyolae explained the situation to him, and Kie’varun took a sudden, active interest in his son’s well being. He offered to take the boy from Gheyolae, saying not only that he had some right to the child, but also that he would pay her what money he had (ten ada) for the privilege of doing so. Gheyolae immediately accepted.

For Hydnaf’aal’s part, the death of his mother was confusing. Only five, he barely knew her and their was little to mourn. How could he have understand the impact that her death would have on his future? He barely knew Kie’varun, but he seemed friendly enough and Gheyolae told him that Kie’varun was responsible for him now.

Kie’varun took Hydnaf’aal to the cavern home that he shared with about forty other cave divers, a place called Needle Midden. This cavern is so named because because the only sizable access is through a long, tight underwater tunnel that only an experienced and confident diver would willingly traverse. Hydnaf’aal in fact made his first passage through the needle stuffed inside a large waterproof sack.

However, when Kie’varun emerged into Needle Midden with Hydnaf’aal in tow, there was an immediate uproar. Many of the divers argued furiously that Needle Midden was a refuge for experienced divers, not a place to raise brats.

Kie’varun countered that not only did the boy have nowhere else to go, but that he was a boy. Kie’varun pointed out that, like many of those who opposed him, he had come to the midden to live free from the female domination of most aspects of Drow life. That he wanted to do two things by bringing the boy here. First, he wanted to show the world, to show the Goddess herself, that there was no reason that he couldn’t raise his own son without a woman’s help. Also, he wanted his son to grow up without being taught that he was always going to be a servant to one woman or another.

Also, the boy would be trained as a diver himself. When he was old enough, he’d be able to join Needle Midden as a diver, rather than as a child. Before that, he could help cook and clean
up and do the other chores that needed to be done to preserve the place.

While most of the divers were convinced by Kie’varun’s arguments, there were still a few who dissented. At this point the founder of Needle Midden, Jaq’mannyn, intervened. The boy had not passed the needle himself, and so was not a member of the community. But if Needle Midden was to become more self-sufficient than it needed to be able to raise its own children.

Jaq’mannyn is a living legend among cave divers, and the undisputed ruler of Needle Midden, which he discovered. The only valid argument against his decisions was to leave the community, and one man did just that. The others, however, enthusiastically took up the task of raising the boy.

Hydnaf’aal was of course too young to understand or remember this argument. But because of it, his path for the next many years was set. He was, effectively, the mascot of Needle Midden. Many of the men volunteered to help raise him and teach him about their particular areas of expertise, under the supervision of Kie’varun, and ultimately Jaq’mannyn.

His first lessons were the ones that most drow children receive: how to master the language, how to read, and basic household chores. His early lessons also included the basics of breath control, learned in a shallow pool within the Cavern of Needle Midden. Once he was old enough to begin to control his own body effectively, he began lessons in swimming and underwater communication.

His scholarly education was not neglected, as cave divers need to not only be able to read maps and charts, but also to be able to create maps themselves, often in circumstances where their tools and time to study the layout of a place are limited.

He was also taught about the hierarchies of the Drow world, hierarchies of both gender and status that placed him very near the bottom. He came to understand that the divers of Needle Midden had chosen to live apart from most of Drow society to avoid those hierarchies, even if they did acknowledge them in their dealings with the outside world.

Hydnaf’aal began to show some minor aptitude for light sorcery, able to create and sustain up to three small balls of light simultaneously. But because none of the divers were experienced sorcerers themselves, he never received training to develop his sorcery.

However, the deadly nature of cave diving took it’s toll throughout his childhood. Thirteen of the 42 members of Needle Midden died before he reached the age of twenty-five. One drowned, a few were poisoned by waters filled with toxic levels of minerals, some were eaten by the dangerous creatures dwelling in deep passages, and others simply vanished. The deaths were hard for him to understand, because he had no real experience of the dangers. Each loss was just a void, as there was rarely a body that could be recovered. Each death also pushed him to excel, to hope that he would be able to prevent further deaths, not least of all his own.

As it turned out, Hydnaf’aal was a natural fit to cave diving. While somewhat slight, a lifetime of swimming and exercise made him impressively fit by the time his form filled out. At the age of 27, he managed to swim the needle unaided, and was accepted as a full member of Needle Midden with great celebration (his first hangover occurred the morning thereafter).

The next day also saw the beginning of his combat training. This training only vaguely resembled a style that would be familiar to most Drow, as cave divers very rarely attempt to fight on land. In the water is a different matter, as while some of the creatures of the deep are far too large or ferocious to defeat, others can be killed with well directed stabs from trident or gladius (and are sometimes quite tasty).

Furthermore, a popular pastime among the residents of Needle Midden is a form of underwater wrestling that further helps them hone their skills for dangerous underwater endeavors. While he was still too young to participate effectively, Hydnaf’aal was shown some of the basic techniques.

After his combat experience was deemed adequate for someone of his age, he was allowed to accompany his father and a group of divers on an actual mission to scout underwater caves. His first trip outside of Needle Midden was quite eye opening. He began to understand the truly vast nature of the world, and that the job of the cave divers was to explore more and more of the least accessible parts of that world. The diving itself was uneventful, and ended in a watery dead end.

On his trips outside the cavern, he was also taught the essentials of surviving in above-water wilds. No small group of divers could hope to match either raiding parties of drow or great beasts, and so they did their best to avoid the attention of all of these forces.

His second dive was the one that almost ended his career. This exploration led the diving team of six through a narrow hole and into a larger cavern. Hydnaf’aal was at the back of the group, ready to flee or assist as the leader, Jaq’mannyn, ordered it. After clearing the opening, he swam up slightly to better observe the entire cavern. Suddenly, the sound of water rushing behind him, he whirled his body to the right. He almost managed to evade the eel-like creature that had appeared behind him. Instead of losing a bite from his head, he just lost two inches of his left ear. Bleeding badly, he managed to dodge further attacks from the creature and make his way out of the cavern while his fellows fought and killed the creature. The dive was abandoned immediately thereafter, and patching was done on the surface to staunch the bleeding. He was taken to Doebrimm’linthel for medical attention, and a doctor managed to close the wound and prevent infection.

After that, he became plagued by self doubt. Clearly, his years of preparation had not made him ready to face the dangers of actual cave diving. What if somebody else had been hurt or killed by the monster while trying to protect him? Could he trust himself to protect someone else if they were injured?

However, before he could take any action on these thoughts, Jaq’mannyn paid him a visit. He had turned around right as the eel emerged. He had seen Hydnaf’aal realize that there was danger no more than five feet behind him, and take immediate, noisy action to avoid the creature. Not only had he saved his own hide, he had immediately alerted everyone else to the danger behind them. Also, to be able to dodge the attacks of of an underwater predator while surrounded in a haze of our own blood and escape from it, while no great act of valor, was an exceptional display of the instincts that keep a cave diver and his companions alive. Jaq’mannyn also had two special surprises. The first was an armband decorated with several of the beast’s teeth. This was to remind him that it isn’t about how many creatures you kill, it’s about how many fail to kill you.

The second was something more personal. Jaq’mannyn removed a glove and bracer from his left forearm and showed Hydnaf’aal that the last quarter of his arm and hand had been replaced by a golem when Jaq’mannyn had convinced himself that just because nothing had ever hurt him before, nothing ever would. That monster was still out there, and Jaq’mannyn said that when he decided to die, he’d probably go try and get his arm back. But until then, he didn’t begrudge the creature it’s existence, because it had (re-)taught him the valuable lesson that Hydnaf’aal had learned on the cheap.

Hydnaf’aal while shaken to discover the mortality of his hero, immediately and enthusiastically discarded the idea of leaving Needle Midden. He redoubled his efforts as a cave diver. Fortunately, his hearing recovered without incident, and after a month of downtime for healing, he was back out on another expedition.

As he progressed into his thirties, he quickly became one of the most competent cave divers in Needle Midden, only surpassed by true veterans like Kie’varun and, of course, Jaq’mannyn. Jaq’mannyn also started to take him along when he negotiated with merchants and slave dealers, to see how people expected cave divers to act and what kind of deals they had to accept. From this, he learned not only the basics of negotiation, but why the esprit de corps among the Needle divers was so important: because without it, they would be continually exploited by greedy merchants and nobles, forced into a life of near servitude.

In his forties, Hydnaf’aal began to lead diving teams of his own, usually comprised of the newest divers of the group, and proved himself a capable leader, able to command his men effectively underwater. However, he was not perfect, and neither were his men. Several of them died while he had no option but to leave them to their fate. After this happened, he began to assume the demeanor of most of the Needle divers: cool towards outsiders until their ability to survive in dangerous conditions(or support those that do) was proven repeatedly.

At age 42, Hydnaf’aal helped welcome the second boy that would be raised at Needle Midden, also the son of a veteran diver. He was now undeniably just another diver, even if one of the best and in the close confidences of Jaq’mannyn. The third boy followed soon thereafter, but Hydnaf’aal had little interaction with either of them: he didn’t yet feel qualified to educate them, and seeing other children in the cavern was just unsettling, whereas most of the others were long used to it.

His fiftieth birthday approached, and Hydnaf’aal began to grow restless. He was a successful diver, having survived and profited from his career, and while he had explored caverns and underwater passages ways by the hundreds, he had never visited the centers of drow civilization. He had heard of the wonders of Chel’el’sussoloth, but never experienced them himself. And with the dangers of cave diving, it was always possible that waiting until later would suddenly not become an option.

And so, on his fiftieth birthday, he requested permission from Jaq’mannyn and Kie’varun to leave to explore the “civilizedâ€
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Kalan Fre'ana by Ssin'urn.

Postby kembaru » Sun Oct 01, 2006 11:36 pm

Name: Kalan Fre’ana, formerly Sin’ari Val’Illhar’dro

Race: Waelinder

Age: 32 (looks 16)

Magic: Was born with an Air Sorcery, and later had it trained within Orthobbae. The training was incomplete, so he is a bit behind those who actually finished the Orthobbae.


-Two short, broad scimitars(60 cm in overall length), worn in plain scabbards on his hips. He received approximately 12 years of training with them, so even though, by Drow standards, he is far from a master, he is adept with them.

-A long sword(100cm overall length, the handle being 14cm) that is sharp on both sides, but one side has a saw-like structure. It is ornamental and created out of a steel core with a thick layer of adamantium at the outside to make it more durable, while making it lighter than a sword completely made of adamantium. The handle and hand guard are decorated with gold, silver and various gems, and there are three gems set into the blade of the sword that could store mana. It is stored in an exquisite scabbard made of leather and coated with blood red spider silk, with various markings and symbols sewn into it with silver, gold, and even adamantine fibbers and doted with a few gems. Kalan does not really use this sword, even though having trained with it, but it belonged to his foster mother, Tir’ana, having been one of this families ancestral weapons, and it is one of the last reminders he has of the life he lost. He carries it strapped to his back at all times.


~Stored in his room in the Hive~

-A stash of 300 ada, hidden underneath a seemingly intact layer of spider silk that seems to be a part of his room. He generally uses it when he is on a trip outside of the Hive. This is also where he aquired it in the first place.

-A variety of clothes, consisting of tunics and random pieces of clothing suitable for a driders, mostly either in a pale blue colour, or in some other colour, but accented with pale blue.

-15 bottles of clear water, that he usually refills once they are empty.

-1 half-eaten Drow, weaved into several air-tight layers of drider silk. Ready to sink your fangs in, so to say.

-His travelling gear(see below in the description)

-3 dozen gems, 3 fist-sized pieces of raw adamantium, and 10 suits of masterfully woven Drider silk clothes, things that he usually sells or trades for other things.

~Kept on Person~

-His clothes(see description)

-12 small gems

-His weapons(see above)

-10 Ada

Beginning city: The Hive

Clan: Once, he was an Illhar’dro, though that is in the past. Now all he lives for is the life he has in the Hive. Oh, and for Ada.

Background: (All things concerning other player’s characters, player-developed NPCs, Driders and the Hive were spoken though with the person responsible for it)

Kalan was actually not know by that name until he was 20, but that would be forestalling. So, let us have a look at his past…

~The Drowchild~

Sin’ari Val’Ilhar’dro was born 32 years ago, around the time the Vloz’ress emerged, a few years given or taken. His mother, Serit’saya was an Illhar of an all-merchant subhouse that even his father, Byrian, did belong to, but of course, that held nearly no significance. Still, since he was in high favour of the female nobles at that time, Sin’ari grew up knowing his father probably better than many other Drow children. But not all that much, because he was fostered to another mother. All of those travelling might have been risky for a newborn, and his mother did not want to give up on it because of a male child, firstborn or not. The one he was fostered to was another noble of that subhouse, going by the name Tir’ana. She was a rather strict, if fair mother, and so little Sin’ari learned proper behaviour as a male before he could completely speak.

His childhood life was relatively calm. His real mother visited sometimes in-between merchant travels to the surface, or Raveran, or other settlements, but Sin’ari really did not think of her as a mother, even if he was clever enough to not actually make it known. His father actually visited him more, because he had a permanent wound that kept him from travelling all that much. Sin’ari never complained, though. He liked playing with other kids when his time allowed, or studying with them, and his father often encouraged or helped him. He generally loved being in company of others, and would only rarely seek solitude. He was taught the goblin language by Tir’ana, as well as Drow History and the basics of battle, but above all else, she taught him how to become a good merchant someday.

Also, it was soon discovered that he had been born with a sorcery, and air sorcery in fact, though it only showed when he randomly blew things around the room in a playful or angry fit. Tir’ana took to have him tutored in magic, too, but those concepts were pretty hard for a child his age, and so he did not really took footage in the practical thing. Though the theoretical thing was exciting for him, and he ached for the day he could really consciously do something with his sorcery.

Of course, there was yet another thing he was taught, a thing that most often comes with being born to the Val’Illhar’dro, whether you are born with a talent for spellsong or not. He learned how to sing and dance, and how to enjoy it. He rather liked it, seen as it could take his mind off of all the things he had to know and learn. It seemed so easy, so relaxing, so inspiring. During his time before Orthobbae, he danced and sang a lot. While he could not literally enchant people with his voice like a spell singer could, he could enchant them in a way, nevertheless, that only music is capable to do, and with his foster mother, Tir’ana, being one of the most talented spell singers of the subhouse, he had a good teacher, even if his singing stayed on the non-magical side.

He seemed indeed particularly gifted with studying, picking up things relatively fast, but nothing special, he just learned that you could better avoid Tir’ana’s wrath if you pleased her. In his case, that meant doing what was expected of him without complaining. Not that he was always able to. After all, children tend to have a mind of their own sometimes, but he felt that he did something wrong for long afterwards, so he tried to keep disobedience to a minimum
as good as was possible for a child.

One notable thing was when little Sin’ari, by the age of 8, meet another male Illhar’dro by the
name of Kar’sim, who was the same age as he was. He had played and befriended both boys
and girls in the past, and still had some good friends, but with Kar’sim, there seemed to be
something special, like a best mate, almost a soul mate. Those two were pretty similar to one another, safe for the looks, with Kar’sim being slightly taller, but more slender than Sin’ari was.

The two soon developed a close bond, playing with one another fairly often. They would sneak around the fortress, stealing good food or other things occasionally, but never something truly valuable, and playing pranks on the other children, and, occasionally, on the adults, though only if they were sure they could get away with it. That was not always the case, though, even if they were sure beforehand, and at least Kar’sim would still mention jokingly that he had a problem with sitting down sometimes even years later.

One particular joke, that involved both of their mothers(Sin’ari had long since taken to think of Tir’ana as mother) as well as some other children, a lot of red hair dye, an equal lot of light blue, almost white, hair dye, ice-cold water as well as an unfortunate event that kept all the slaves busy and away from the site of their joke, had consequences everyone involved wanted to just forget afterwards, especially the two pranksters in question, as not only did the joke go wrong and they, too, were on the receiving end, but they also got punished for it. Sin’ari, in an attempt to loosen their frustration, suggested that Kar’sim could at least rightfully claim not to be able to sit now, which the later one just replied to with “Shut up, pinky.â€
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Postby kembaru » Sun Oct 01, 2006 11:38 pm

Name: Naisha Anth'mar Val'Sharen
Race: Drowolath
Age: 30
Sex: Female
Equipment: On person: clothing; jewellery; pouch with 10 ada; six throwing knives. In her residence: 20 ada; additional sets of clothes; jewellery; short sword. [Equipment is described in detail in the 'Physical description' section.]
Magic: Ice sorcery
Beginning city: Drider Hive
Clan: None
Naisha's (pronounced Nye-SHAH or Nye-SAH) life began in the First Clan of the city of Chel'el'sussoloth, perfectly fine and normally for just about every person like her in the specific clan; that of the mighty Val'Sharen. Quickly paired with a protector twin like all girls of her status yet in a much different manner, her life would take a very unexpected turn while still in her childhood, changing not just her world as she knew it, but also her life, likes and dislikes, as well as personality.

Naisha was given birth by Ranya (RAH-nyah) Val’Sharen, a high-ranking member of the Anth’mar sub house of the Sharen clan in Chel’el’sussoloth. One could say her birth relied on an odd event; her mother, famous for her cunningness and skill with summoning across the sub house and her friends, was a common guest in the famous (or rather, infamous) Sullisin’rune clan “partiesâ€
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Aerylon Varaquilex by ShadowDragonX

Postby kembaru » Sun Oct 01, 2006 11:45 pm

Name: Aerylon Varaquilex

Race: Light Elf

Age: 132

Aerylon carries a solid steel spear. The spearhead has a three inch long scythe-like sickle protruding from where the spearhead meets the shaft, perpendicular to the shaft and blade which is only sharpened on the edge facing the spear's tip. The weapon is a silver-steel color, save for various black, thin, vine-like designs along the shaft. On the blunt end, there is a metal ring for hanging or to have various things through to it. The spear is enhanced with a golem that lets it fold at two joints, making it half of its original length for storing.

Along the back of Aerylon's belt lies another pair of weapons: a short sword and a dagger. The short sword is designed to be light-weight; only being a foot and a half long in length. The sword's blade is a simple, single-bladed design with a slight curve made out of steel. The blade is only a foot in length and an inch in width down to the cross guard. The knife, however, is of a peculiar design. The blade is made of steel with a gilded silver edge. The dagger itself is only about eleven inches long, with a six-inch double-edged blade. The blade of the knife also extends down along the hilt, approximately an inch and a half apart, acting as a bladed knuckle guard. Engraved onto the face of the blade, right at the base where the blade meets the dagger's guard is an insignia of a phoenix with both wings outstretched. Both the sword and the dagger's sheaths are tied to Aerylon's belt.

For armor, Aerylon wears the standard Val'Sarghress Highland Raider plate armor with silver spider silk worn underneath. Along his belt are small pouches and compartments which he uses for carrying smaller items. In his pouch there are about twenty-five leaf-shaped, light metal disks; all with razor sharp edges, a small metal ring at the "stem" of the metal leaves, and about the size of an actual leaf. In a different, smaller compartment is a long, neatly coiled length of thin but very durable reinforced steel wire. The last pocket only holds five ada, just in case he needed to buy anything without his traveling pack on hand as well two parts of a jeweled circular pendant with the chains intertwined to hold the two parts together.

In a grey knapsack which Aerylon uses for traveling needs, he keeps a pouch of fifty ada, a flask of water, a vial paste of ground up herbs from the surface to help heal lacerations, a roll of bandages, a various assortment of items for maintaining his equipment, a special custom-made deck of 52 playing cards with the face cards changed so that leaders of various clans are displayed and each suit represented a different clan (i.e; a picture of Quain'tana is the "King" of the Diamond suit, while the three main members of the Imperial Family is printed on the Spades suit's face cards), a set of dice, a wooden flute, a sleeping bag (rarely used since Aerylon usually travels with the Raiders and has an actual bed in the barracks), and Aerylon's personal journal (written entirely in Elven script).

Magic: Wind Sorcery

Beginning city: Chel'el'sussoloth

Clan: Val'Sarghress

The warm glow from the sun, illuminating his mother's smiling face was the first thing Aerylon ever remembered from his childhood. Aerylon was born to the family of Varaquilex, a Light Elf breed who had lived in Virianius, an Elven settlement located in one of the forests of the North. The Varaquilex family was nothing noble, but the community helped care for them, giving them much of what they needed. Aerylon's mother was a caring woman who was also a talented musician with many instruments, but was especially skilled with the harp which she had used on many occasions to play lullabies for her newborn boy to sleep. His father, unfortunately, was a high ranking officer of Virianius' armed forces and was away on a campaign to re-establish trading routes that had been under raids by bandits.

Aerylon spent the first five years of his life without his father even in sight, with nothing more than his mother's mention of his name, "Ereinion." Alasse, Aerylon's mother, had spent most of her time with her son, nursing him and caring for him with the help of money coming from Virianius' military. Alasse had to manage all the work in their small house and look after just herself and her baby since Ereinion was off on official business. It was after Aerylon had learned to walk and talk that Ereinion had finally returned home to his family. Aerylon's father was shocked beyond all words that he had fathered a child for over five years without even knowing it. What pained him even more was that he had not been home to watch his child being born, to watch him take his first steps, or even say his first word.

The next day after Ereinion's return home, he handed a letter of resignation to Virianius' Grand General, Valandil Ciryatan, one of Ereinion's comrades and an even better friend. Ereinion swore the night before he would never again miss another day watching his family grow. Though Valandil was upset about losing one of his best Commanders, he understood that Ereinion had made his decision and there was nothing that was going to change him. Valandil officially and honorably discharged Ereinion from Virianius' armed forces, finally allowing him to settle down with his wife.

For the next ten years, Aerylon lived his life happily with both his parents as any normal family would have. The entire community was a friendly group of people, and many of the settlement's children became Aerylon's friends who played with him whenever he could leave the house. Alasse had taken the responsibilities of educating her child, teaching him of the Elves' history, their language, foreign languages that included the Human and Drow tongues, basic math, basic control of mana, and even in music. Alasse had tried to teach Aerylon the ways of the harp, like she had, but apparently the child showed no skill with string instruments at all. Still, Alasse was stubborn and was confident that some of her musical talent must have passed onto Aerylon. After many tries with different instruments, the child found some talent with the flute. Relieved that her son had indeed attained some of her talent, she taught Aerylon how to read music from sheets and many different songs, including her own special tune which she had used as a lullaby when Aerylon was a baby.

Though Aerylon had appreciated all the skills that his mother had taught to him and learned from her as best he could, he was often distracted by his father's "arts." Oftentimes after learning another lesson from his mother, whether it was in language, math, or music, Aerylon would stare out through the window at his father, Erenion, who had spent the days practicing his combat skills. Ereinion's movements entranced the young Aerylon. Every one of the former Commander's movements was swift, calculated, and graceful. Not one of Erenion's attacks, blocks, counters, or stances ever lacked in subtle elegance or beauty, whether he used a sword, dagger, spear, or even his bare hands.

Oftentimes, after playing with the other children of the village, Aerylon would sneak into his parents' backyard to watch his father practice. Unknown to Aerylon, Ereinion had always known his son's interest in the arts of combat. Still, Ereinion never offered to teach his son anything. He believed that Aerylon was still too young and that he would need to finish Alasse's lessons first. He didn't want Aerylon to be trapped within a world where blood and blade were his only choices.

At the age of twenty, Aerylon's fascination with his father's skill in combat could no longer be denied. Ereinion had watched his son beginning to mimic his motions one night while inside of his room, which were extremely poor replications. After a small talk with Alasse, the couple decided to teach Aerylon in the art of war, only if he would also continue his studies while he trained under his father's watchful eye.

The next afternoon, after Aerylon had finished his mother's lesson for the day, the child rushed out to the house's backyard; only to find that his father was not practicing and no where in sight. At first, Aerylon was confused... Not one day since as long as he could remember did Ereinion ever stop practicing. Even during the drenching rain, Ereinion had shown resilience. Not even the heaviest of storms could have stopped Aerylon's father from training himself. The young white elf child began to worry when he realized something could have gone wrong with his father. Then Aerylon felt a light whack against the back of his head.

Aerylon winced, holding the back of his head before turning around to see the figure of the person who had attacked him. The looming figure was almost twice his own size, with a slim but muscular figure, and long cascading locks of hair looked like waves of gold. There wasn't a single scar or flaw in the figure's light skin and the man's deep emerald eyes seemed to unnerve Aerylon, paralyzing him where he stood. Then, the stern silence was shattered by a hearty laugh and a single word. "Catch," Ereinion spoke as he tossed a wooden pole towards the young Aerylon. His father was smiling, quite amused that his own son could have been so scared by something as simple as a stare down.

The young boy was so shocked by his father's spontaneous throw and command that he had barely managed to catch the stick in time. Ereinion chuckled as he twirled a similar staff in between his hands. The child listened closely as his father explained that for the next several years; he would teach Aerylon his arts and how to survive as a soldier in the world. Aerylon's eyes almost immediately lit up with joy. Finally, at long last, he wouldn't have to stand by and watch his father, but he would also be able to train and probably master many of his father's techniques.

The training was nothing Aerylon had ever imagined. Ereinion would teach the child how to wield a weapon, its flaws and strengths, then the techniques to be used with it. But as soon as it was all done and over with, Ereinion would challenge Aerylon to land a single hit on him. These would soon evolve into everyday sparring sessions of Aerylon's training. And not once did Aerylon ever manage to come even close to even brushing past his father, no matter how hard he tried. Ereinion had also believed that going easy on Aerylon was no way to teach the boy and had taken every opening to either attack or counter-attack. This lead to frequent visits to the settlement's healer.

It was about five minutes into Aerylon and Ereinion's little sparring match until Aerylon had to be taken to the healer for the first time. This is where Aerylon met the healer's daughter. A bubbly yet shy little girl who was no less than a year or two younger than Aerylon named, "Sara'londe." When the two children met, Aerylon was covered in bruises and was exhausted from the training and Sara had to bring several herbs, ointments, and bandages for the poor boy while her mother tended to Aerylon's wounds.

Luckily for Aerylon, the healer was extremely skilled and his wounds almost always healed the next day. As weeks went by, Alasse soon found she had nothing more to teach her son and that gave the boy much more free time. These were the days when Sara and Aerylon became close friends. The two children would play together when Sara wasn't helping her mother treat the wounded or ill of the village or learning of medicine and the arts of healing or when Aerylon wasn't training with his father.

Five years would pass on like this. Aerylon would slowly learn the art of fighting from his father, steadily learning to read Ereinion's movements and block some attacks; but the end result was always the same. Aerylon would be beaten easily and he would still leave Ereinion without so much as a scratch. Almost every session, Ereinion would ask if Aerylon wanted to stop; to quit before he got hurt. Aerylon's response was always the same. Never. No matter how badly Aerylon was beaten, his determination was inexhaustible. Aerylon wanted nothing more than to be like his father, he had been entranced by Ereinion's movements for so long that simply quitting was no longer an option.

On the fifth year, Aerylon would ask something about his father that he had always wondered. Why did he resign from the military if he was so great a warrior? Ereinion stared back at his son for only a short few moments before laughing. The elf shook his head and dismissed the question, simply replying that he would tell Aerylon the day he managed to land a hit on his body. As fate would have it, that same day Aerylon showed his first signs of having any ability in sorcery.

His first instance of controlling any amount of wind was spontaneous. Aerylon was sparring with is father like many times in the past. The only difference now was Aerylon had seen one huge opening. Aerylon's sole problem was that he was much too far away to take advantage of such a chance. Still, the child tried his hardest in a desperate attempt to connect a blow to his mentor. In instinct alone, the boy's feet left the ground and a strong concentrated gust exploded from behind him, strong enough to shoot Aerylon forward like an arrow as he lifted up his wooden staff, aiming to drive it at Ereinion.

Ereinion was stunned as his son sped through the air, covering several yards in a blink of an eye. The former commander barely managed to move away in time while he raised his own staff in defense. Aerylon's weapon summarily snapped Ereinion's staff in half and scraped by his upper arm. The next moment, Aerylon crashed into a sturdy oak tree with enough force to cause several leaves fell from its branches. Ereinion was speechless. Not only did his son manage to summon magical power, but the visible burn mark where Aerylon scrapped by his arm was proof that Aerylon had finally managed to land one hit on him.

Several hours later, Aerylon woke up immobile in the healer's bed. The young boy winced in pain as he looked around to find that his forearms and legs were covered in bandages with splints so he could not even move a muscle. Apparently, he had flown into the tree with such force that the resulting impact broke many of his bones. The irony of it all was that the wooden staff he had been holding had also shattered into a million splinters and absorbed the majority of the impact... Yet the impact was still strong enough to break practically all of his limbs' bones.

Ereinion sat at his son's bedside, a small bandage wrapped along his right upper arm. Much to Aerylon's surprise, his father was beaming with pride. Ereinion laughed and patted his son on one of his bandaged legs, which earned a loud yelp of pain from Aerylon. "Well done, my boy!" The proud father exclaimed, "Not only did you manage to land a hit on me, but you can wield the uncanny ability to control wind! I'm proud of you, son!" Aerylon was at first skeptical at what his father had said. Control wind? It seemed impossible. Aerylon had at best learned how to create light from his mother. But something as complex as manipulating wind with Mana was something Aerylon had no knowledge of. However, nothing else would explain how he managed to move that quickly without anyway of stopping.

Aerylon sat, contemplating how he managed to even summon such a strong wind before Ereinion broke the awkward silence with a single word. "You," the older elf spoke. The child blinked and stared at his father in confusion. Ereinion only smiled and explained, "I told you I would give you my reason for leaving the military once you landed your first hit... I left because of you. You might think differently, but yes... I did like being a warrior... It was an honor to fight to protect my home... But you and your mother were much more important to me than my title as a great warrior. I wanted to see you grow up and I wanted to be with your mother... So I left. And not one day have I regretted my choice. Though I pray you will never have to use these skills, I wanted to train you so that you can defend yourself and anything you hold dear... There are two things a blade is made for... Killing is only one of its purposes." Ereinion then left the room so that Aerylon could rest. The young boy would not understand what his father meant for a very long time.

Since Aerylon wasn't able to walk or train for a long while thanks to his broken bones, he spent most of the time trying to recall any way of controlling wind. The first few attempts were unsuccessful, but soon after consciously channeling Mana, the boy created a breeze. Then Aerylon knew for sure. That incident where he basically flew into a tree was no fluke... Somehow he could control wind.

When Aerylon's injuries finally healed, his schedule had once again changed. Before training his father, he would spend the day practicing and experimenting with his newfound Wind Sorcery. Then, during training, Ereinion had changed all the lightweight wooden practice weapons with heavy iron and steel. Sara'londe also began to visit everyday during training to watch. Apparently, she needed to practice and test her knowledge of healing arts and medicine and since Aerylon would be injured on a regular basis, he was the perfect doll to dress up in herbs, ointment, and bandages.

Time would pass on as Aerylon trained and grew. He learned everything he could from his father about the arts of war. Aerylon learned how to use the spear, the sword and dagger, how to use the walls and bodies of an opponent to his advantage, and how to string all of these different styles together to make one formidable offense with a sturdy defense. Soon Aerylon knew exactly what to do in a fight like a second nature. Most parries, blocks, and counter-attacks came like a reflex. Though, Aerylon had learned to retain some conscious thought into all of his moves when his father had feigned a sword stroke which Aerylon had moved to block, leaving him completely open for Ereinion's dagger.

By the time Aerylon reached forty years of age, he had learned a great deal from his father and could now fight Ereinion on equal grounds as well as control a good deal of power over wind... Though Ereinion had always managed to win no matter how hard Aerylon tried. Sara'londe had become the full-time healer for the Varaquilex family, now having to tend to Ereinion's own bruises and cuts since Aerylon had become quite a fighter. She usually paid special attention to Aerylon wounds since they tended to the more serious ones out of the two warriors. Of course, Aerylon's parents always had known the real reason why Sara'londe had paid special care to their son.

Aerylon had grown into a strong, handsome young man and Sara had grown into an equally stunning woman. However, Sara had always been nervous or awkward around Aerylon, especially when they were alone so that she could tend to his wounds. Aerylon had always felt an especially intimate connection with Sara'londe, but he always thought against it. Above anything, they were childhood friends and Aerylon didn't want to damage anything by opening doors that held potential harm to their relationship.

Soon after Aerylon's fortieth birthday, reports came flooding in through the village of an increase of raids in the area by a massive group of Drows. The day after the news had reached Aerylon's ears, he left home to sign into the military. The young Elf had told no one of his departure and signed into service under Grand General Ciryatan's Forward Guard. At the time, the armed forces weren't so picky on who signed up; they had to amass a reasonable defense and meet with the Drows before any further damage would be sustained. Aerylon was sent to the frontlines within a week as a Dragoon.

Aerylon's first taste of battle wasn't anything poetic. The young rookie found himself thrown into a world of bloodshed and chaos freshly equipped with a military issued heavy plate armor and spear. Metal continuously clashed, ringing for Death to roam freely around the torn field where Elf and Drow made battle. Aerylon was frightened, yet his training with his father gave him the skill he needed to survive against the waves of Drow warriors that were sent at him. He rarely had time to breathe, or even think about morals, or about the people whose lives had ended at the tip of his spear. It wasn't about who was right anymore or whose goal was more important. It was about who came out alive. And whenever Aerylon was scratched or wounded, there was no chance that Sara'londe would come to heal them. He felt alone, even with his comrades-in-arms by his side.

After pulling his blood-soaked spear from the chest of a Drow warrior, Aerylon looked up in despair. He had already lost count of how many people he had killed. One was too much. Then, as if he could see through the chaos, he caught sight of one of his fellow Elves engaged in battle with one of the Drow warriors. Unknown to his comrade, another Drow was behind him, poised to strike. Aerylon screamed in warning, dashing over dead bodies of Elf and Drow alike and crashed into his comrade's unseen assailant, pushing both himself and his enemy down a sharp cliff into the forest below.

Aerylon found himself moments later lying in a pile of tree branches with searing pain in his right leg and chest. Thankfully, tree branches had broken his fall and left him with a broken leg and possibly a few cracked ribs. The young elf gazed around and soon found his enemy, propped up against a tree only a few feet away. Aerylon winced as he instinctively sat up, ready to reach for a weapon to defend himself. He regretted his decision the next moment as pain surged through his chest, paralyzing him with agony before he sighed and leaned against a tree. The spear he reached for was missing anyways, probably stuck up in the braches of the tree that had broken his fall.

He took this chance to take a look at his enemy more clearly now. The Drow in front of him was clearly a Drowlath, recognizable by the person's dark chocolate brown skin. It took Aerylon a moment before realizing that the dark-skinned elf was a woman. The Drow woman was clutching her side in pain and a rather large jagged rock had pierced through the woman's armor, slicing through one of her calves. Apparently, battle luck had favored Aerylon over the Drow.

As moment after moment passed by, he realized several things about this Drowlath... things that concerned Aerylon. The first thing that had disturbed the young Elf was that the Drow was bleeding and obviously in pain... The second was they were both standing at Death's door, both injured only one more than the other; the only thing that mattered was without any provisions or help from perhaps a rescue team they were both doomed. Aerylon had always heard that Drow were monsters who fled to the underground after the infamous War of the Moons in their madness... Yet the bleeding woman in front of her could not possibly be that monster. She could bleed, feel pain, and die just as easily as Aerylon himself could.

Aerylon winced as he reached behind him, finding a canteen of water that he had been issued at the barracks before the battle. Luckily, it was only the first day of battle and the canteen was still full. The young Elf sighed and uncapped the container, taking a quick drink before a sudden feeling of guilt shook his conscience. The woman before him was dying and it was his fault... even if it was for the sake of saving someone else's life. Even though it was battle, Aerylon could not shake the feeling that he had done something horribly wrong... Sighing to himself, Aerylon recapped the canteen and called out to the Drow in her native tongue before tossing the container of water at her.

The Drow woman blinked and looked down at the flask before staring suspiciously back at Aerylon. She opened her mouth to question him yet Aerylon had already turned his head, away from the Drow. The Drowlath warrior sighed and reached towards the container, popping off the cap before taking a long drink of its contents. Elf and Drow then sat there in silence before Aerylon suddenly spoke up, "...So what brought you here?"

The Drowlath almost laughed so hard that it hurt her injured chest. She only replied back coldly, "By the Abyss, you must be the dumbest rookie Elf I have ever met in my life. You probably never killed a person in your life before this day... First you give me water and now you're trying to get to know me? And for what? Do you feel guilty that you killed my fellow warriors or that you've seriously hurt me? Sweet Sharess, boy... We're fighting a battle. We're enemies. I'd kill you if I could move."

Aerylon frowned, retorting back that they were both going to die soon anyways so it didn't even matter which side they were on. After a long silence, Aerylon tried starting a conversation again. The Drowlath was stubborn, but eventually, either out of annoyance or boredom, she answered. Apparently the Drow were hunting for materials... Any Light Elf they found was also "material." They were worth quite a lot of money in the Underworld. Aerylon frowned at this and quickly tried to change the subject.

And so, Aerylon learned much more about the Drow than any book or rumor could ever tell him. They were far from the savages he was told they were. Aerylon had learned they had organized religion, government, families, art, culture... everything that made them people. Thus, doubt began to form inside of Aerylon... Was it true? Elves and Drow were so similar... yet so hostile. "How could such a hate have formed in us?" Aerylon questioned himself. He sighed as he looked to the woman then shook his head. It scared him that... if he had met this woman on better terms; they probably could have been friends. The only reason they were put against each other... was because of a rivalry started ages past.

Hours upon hours would pass by as both soldiers sat in silence. Aerylon sighed, wondering if there was any hope... for either of them. How long had it been since they were basically separated from the rest of the world? Was the battle still going on so far above them? Who had won? The young elf winced as he held his chest gingerly... It wouldn't be long until night fell and perhaps wolves would be attracted to the scent of blood from the pool of blood that the Drow had created before she somehow managed to stop the flow. Aerylon swore under his breath... There was a high chance that they weren't going to make it out of the woods alive. Even if rescue teams were dispatched; starvation, cold, or the wolves might get to the two warriors first. Then it would be too late.

Night fell without any signs of rescue. Aerylon shivered as the cold chill of night set in. The young elf regretted being immobile and unable to create a fire. The freezing winds that drifted over him bit right into the bone. And what was worse was Aerylon could already feel consciousness slipping between his fingers and his eyelids grow heavy. The young elf swore to himself, trying his hardest to stay awake; knowing full well that if he fell asleep in the cold, he might not wake up. However, even against Aerylon's best efforts; fatigue and weariness won over and Aerylon fell unconscious.

A cool drop of water dripped onto Aerylon's face what seemed like only a few minutes later, but as Aerylon opened his eyes he was greeted with small rays of morning light that had managed to slip between the leaves. Aerylon groaned as he wiped the bead of dew from his face and gazed around the same wooden scenery he had been stuck in the night before. Somehow, he managed to make it through the night without being attacked by any wandering animal. Turning his head towards the Drow from the night before, she seemed sound asleep and perfectly fine... Not any more worse off than when they crashed into this forsaken part of the woods.

The young elf waited what seemed like forever for the Drowlath warrior to awaken before a worry set in. True she seemed peaceful... but... almost too peaceful. Aerylon hesitated for a moment before calling out to her. There was no answer; but that was fine, wasn't it? She could still be asleep. Aerylon couldn't help but panic. He tried to call out to her, loud enough to make him clutch his ribs in pain. Still, the Drow didn't stir. Aerylon winced and lowered himself to the forest floor. Taking a deep breath, the Elf began to crawl towards the Drowlath, hoping with all his power that she still lived. After a painful trip to cover the short distance, Aerylon gently shoved the Drow. She still didn't stir... And now that Aerylon was closer, he could see she wasn't breathing at all.

Aerylon couldn't believe it. He refused to believe it. In a vain attempt to awaken the woman, Aerylon shook her desperately... but he already knew that she was already gone. Aerylon winced and sat up, sighing as he watched her body; silent forevermore. Then a crimson message on the tree bark caught Aerylon's eye. It was short and quick, written in the Drow script, "Thanks for the water, white worm." Aerylon then looked down to the canteen... it was completely empty. The Elf sighed, now he was alone without any water or any way of getting out. Leaning on the same tree the Drow was leaning on, he blinked as he noticed something glimmering in the fallen warrior's grip. Reaching down, Aerylon found a strange crescent moon-shaped jeweled pendant. It seemed valuable yet held some sort of a deeper meaning as indentation on it suggested it was once part of something greater. Sighing to himself, Aerylon took the piece of jewelry and closing his eyes he leaned back against the tree, wondering how long it would be before it was his turn to die.

When Aerylon opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on something soft. It took a moment to realize that he was in a very familiar room and no longer in the forest. The young elf attempted to sit up, only to remember his rib injury when a reminder of a dull pain shot through his chest. However, the pain was not nearly as intense as he remembered. Upon looking down, he realized he had been stripped of his armor and redressed in civilian clothes along with various bandages covering various scratches and his broken bones. When the door opened, Aerylon saw the face of his savior. Aerylon smiled and simply whispered a single word, "Sara'londe..."

The days during his recovery, Aerylon spent time reconnecting with family and friends as well as receiving reprimanding from just about everyone for running off into battle without so much as a farewell. Aerylon, however, had welcomed any contact even if they were scolds... He had missed everyone, even if it had only been two days away from them. Sitting at Death's door was more than enough to remind him how much he had loved everyone. Still, most were glad that Aerylon was alive rather than focusing too intently on Aerylon's leaving without saying a word. As he rested, he had heard that the battle between Elf and Drow only a few days ago was rather short and only minimal losses were sustained on either side. The Drows were identified as a mercenary group who were sent up to gather equipment and such via raids and thievery. It was by luck they weren't ready for a full scale counter-attack and fled since Virianius' forces were a large, organized militia at best. The group would probably not return with intent for waging war... They were not affiliated with any major organized group according to the reports.

As soon as Aerylon had recovered he returned to his house. The Elf found his father out in yard, training as usual. Smiling at the unmatched grace of Ereinion's movements that he had admired since he was a child, Aerylon silently stepped into the training area; just observing and waiting for his father to finish before greeting him. Much to Aerylon's surprise Ereinion suddenly sheathed a uniquely shaped dagger and tossed the weapon at Aerylon. At first, the younger elf blinked; realizing that only part of the weapon had been sheathed... The bladed knuckle guard of the weapon was still open and gleaming dangerously. Ereinion smiled as his son pulled the weapon from the confines of its black leather sheath. The elder Varaquilex explained to the younger that it was a family heirloom: a masterly forged dagger with a perfect silver finish along the edges. It was a dangerous weapon; sharp, lightweight, solid, and with a bladed guard to boot. The insignia on the weapon was a phoenix; a symbol of the Varaquilex family. To them, the phoenix was a creature that represented fortitude, resilience, and an unshakeable will through the sacred bird's inextinguishable flames that continued to burn no matter the condition... And like the phoenix’s undying flames, all born to the Varaquilex family showed a determination which none could destroy.

Ereinion had saved the dagger for the day that Aerylon would join the armed forces, sure that son would follow in father's footsteps. Unfortunately, since Aerylon ran off alone, Ereinion had to save the weapon until he saw his son again. Ereinion had unshakeable faith that Aerylon would come back, and he was right in doing so as his son still lived and stood in front of him now. Aerylon was still in the process of admiring and practicing a few stroke with the knife before his father asked a question which disturbed him. That question was, "why." Why had Aerylon run off to join Virianius' armed forces in the first place? Aerylon himself wasn't sure... Yet he replied it was because he wanted to prove something to himself and take another step to be as great as his father. Ereinion let out a sigh and shook his head. After a short moment, the veteran warrior stood before beginning to walk inside the house, leaving his son with only a few words, "You still don't know what I told you so many years back. Until you do... You'll never reach your fullest potential." With that, Ereinion stepped back inside the house and embraced Alasse with a tender kiss.

Aerylon soon found himself training by a freshly dug grave a few days later. The young Elf had traced where he had landed to find the body of the Drowlath warrior undisturbed... And as some late token of respect, he had buried the body and made a small shrine for her. Aerylon needed time to think for himself, away from his father. He wanted to know why Ereinion meant by what he said. The young elf was confused... What was so important that he had missed? Sighing aloud, Aerylon looked to the grave of the nameless Drowlath and pulled out the strange jeweled crescent ornament as he whispered, "I can only wonder... what you fought for... And what Father fought for..."

Up until the age of fifty-two, Aerylon would continue service in Virianius' military. As the years passed by, Aerylon quickly climbed his way up through the ranks through several completed assignments and missions. Though Aerylon had always felt a small guilt looming over him for killing enemy units in various assignments, being a soldier had taught him that it was a necessary; it would have to be either his enemies or his comrades, his homeland, or even his own life. By his fifty-second birthday, Aerylon had already become an experienced warrior and one of the three Commanders of Virianius' military under Grand General Ciryatan's direct control.

One day while Aerylon was on leave, he had traveled back towards the shrine he had made for the late Drowlath warrior. Despite the place being a monument for a fallen warrior, he had found the scenery rather... tranquil. After all, it was in the middle of the forest. It was by this place, Aerylon had built a small cabin during the time he was off from duty. The dwelling was nothing fancy and barely furnished... It was just a single room cabin with a chair, a table, a small bed, and a fireplace. It had taken Aerylon years to build the place and quite a lot of "away" time from his career as a warrior. But once it was finished, it became a place where Aerylon could rest and think, away from the distractions of being in the military and the other villagers. Surely, he loved everyone, but everyone had times when they just wanted to be alone.

While gathering firewood and some water for the cabin, Aerylon had stumbled on a very rare and peculiar sight: a young Drowlath girl lying unconscious by the trunk of a tree. Aerylon was surprised upon first seeing the girl... she seemed to be in her early twenties, exhausted, and most likely collapsed rather than fell asleep. Judging from the dirt on the child's clothes, she had probably been traveling for quite some time. Sighing aloud, Aerylon scooped up the young Drow and carried her back inside of the cabin... He couldn't leave her out all alone where she could starve, freeze, or become some wandering animal's meal.

Several hours later, the young Drowlath would find herself in a soft bed with the warm fingers of a nearby flame warming her skin. A few moments after she awakened, she would find a bowl of stew presented to her by an adult Light Elf; Aerylon. The Light Elf smiled as the young Drowlath seemed suspicious and almost scared of him... Aerylon would have been foolish to expect anything less. After all, the Elves and the Drow never really did see eye-to-eye. Aerylon quietly reassured the young Drowlath in the child's own language, explaining that he had found her unconscious outside and brought her back to the cabin to at least give her some sort of shelter. The Drowlath didn't seem to let down her guard for several moments before the scent of the bowl of food caused her stomach to rumble. The child groaned, her hunger soon causing her to take the bowl from Aerylon. The Light Elf couldn't help but shake his head before returning to the fireplace where an entire pot was brewing to pour himself a bowl.

It was a strange scene, a Light Elf and a Drowlath sharing a meal of rabbit stew together; but Aerylon didn't seem to mind. It seemed to be an obligation to him to help the child, even if she was a Drow. After the meal, the Drowlath girl began to explain what she was doing so far from the Underworld. Licarlae Mina'fel, as the twenty-two year old child introduced herself, had apparently snuck aboard a merchant caravan that made trips from the Underworld up to the Overworld. She was on a quest to look for her mother, a Drow mercenary who had disappeared twelve years ago. Once the caravan had come across the region, Licarlae slipped out. Apparently, she hadn't put much forethought into it and was summarily walking around the forest for hours until she collapsed and Aerylon found her.

Aerylon frowned as he heard the story... So the girl was out alone without any way to support herself. When Aerylon asked of Licarlae's father, the girl simply replied that she never met him and that her mother was her only family. Some of the mercenaries that hadn't gone into the Overworld Expedition where her mother had disappeared from had taken care of Licarlae since the missing warrior left. And now, twelve years after her mother's disappearance, the child had decided she was old enough to search... Aerylon had to admit, Licarlae must have had a pretty strong will to come to a foreign land alone without any help at all. It was reckless, but required quite a lot of bravery to come up alone.

Still, Aerylon asked the girl what she would do now that she was up in the Overworld with no way of surviving on her own. The girl's reply was spoken without even a hint of doubt, "I'm going to find my mother." Aerylon was stunned at first... There wasn't an ounce of fear in Licarlae's voice, despite knowing the dangers of the Overworld and how slim her chances were of actually finding her mother. After a long moment of silence, Aerylon shook his head. The Light Elf knew that this was none of his business, yet something urged him to stop her from doing anything crazy. Aerylon soon began to question the girl about her mother... would the mother do if Licarlae got hurt for her sake? Wouldn't her mother want Licarlae's safety more than anything else?

Though Aerylon's words shook the young girl, she had firmly stated that after waiting twelve years for her mother to return she could no longer just sit and wait any longer. She had to at least try to find her mother. However, after many attempts, Aerylon soon managed to convince Licarlae to at least rest in the cabin tonight to think over what was more important: her life or her virtually hopeless quest to find her mother. Though the Drowlath child agreed, she stated it was only to take advantage of a soft and comfortable bed.

That night, while Licarlae was resting, Aerylon noticed something strange hanging from the Drowlath's neck. It seemed to be necklace adorned with a strange jeweled locket... Yet something about the piece of jewelry seemed incomplete. And what was even more peculiar, was that Aerylon could say with an eerie certainty that he had seen this pendant before. He just couldn't remember exactly where and what it meant. Sighing to himself, Aerylon decided he would ask the child in the morning and sat down in his chair and closed his eyes to let sleep drift over him... Unfortunately, he was restless... some unseen and unexplained guilt gripped the Light Elf for the first time in many many years in his dreams as the night went on.

Aerylon didn't get much sleep that night. There was something about Licarlae that uneased him... A strange sense of deja vu haunted Aerylon throughout the night and the locket was the key. That much Aerylon understood, but he didn't know what caused the locket and the girl to disturb him so much. Aerylon awoke just before dawn, setting out to have some food ready before Licarlae woke. He needed to ask her more things or he would probably never find reprieve from this strange feeling that bothered him.

When the Drowlath child finally awakened, Aerylon had already set up a hearty breakfast for her. The Light Elf only smiled and leaned back in his chair while watching Licarlae eat. Aerylon studied the girl as she happily enjoyed her meal... Waiting until she was finished to ask about the necklace. Licarlae sighed and gazed fondly at the piece of jewelry before explaining that it was the very last gift that her mother gave her. She also explained that it wasn't a locket, but part of a pendant. Even though the Drowlath was only ten at the time, she could remember the day clearly. Her mother had explained to the young girl that she had made a promise to come back and gave her a piece of a family treasure as reassurance. She took with her a jeweled crescent pendant and promised that Licarlae's half would one day lead her to her half.

Aerylon felt realization come as a smack across the face to him. Pieces of the puzzle fell quickly into place as Licarlae explained fully the tale of her lost mother... and spelled a horrible twist for the Light Elf. Aerylon reached into the pocket of his pants, gripping onto the cold metal of the same jeweled crescent pendant that was once Licarlae's mother's. That was why Licarlae and her pendant bothered him so much. Licarlae was so familiar to the nameless Drowlath warrior for she was her daughter and the pendant had bothered him so because the half that he held fit perfectly into place with Licarlae's. Aerylon also came to realize why the Drowlath warrior had gripped the pendant so tightly in her last moments... she was thinking about Licarlae and regretted that she couldn't keep her promise. What was worst of all was that Licarlae still didn't know her mother was dead... and it was Aerylon's fault.

It took almost everything Aerylon had to hold back the guilt from showing on his face. The Light Elf slowly released his grip over the crescent pendant and and quietly excused himself. Aerylon soon found himself standing by the Drowlath warrior's grave... How was he going to deal with Licarlae? He couldn't bring himself to tell her that her mother was dead... it would crush her. But at the same time, it would be foolhardy to make her continue a hopeless quest. After a long moment of concentration, Aerylon decided he would help this girl. He owed her at least that much for killing her mother and robbing her of someone precious to her.

When Aerylon stepped back into the cabin, he convinced Licarlae to let him help her in her journey. He swore to her that he would protect her and made her promise in return to stay in the cabin and the forest around the small house and leave the search to Aerylon. It took a while for Licarlae to agree, but in the end she did realize that having someone to care for her and search for her did make it less dangerous for herself. Besides that, she really had no way of surviving on her own, but this way she had a place to stay while working on finding her mother.

Weeks would go by with the Light Elf caring for Licarlae as if she were a sister. Licarlae also proved to be quite the energetic child, spending most of her time among the tranquility of the forest while playing with many of the animals. Aerylon grew fond of the girl, no longer protecting her out of guilt and a sense of obligation; but because he genuinely cared for the Drowlath. However, as time went by, Aerylon was soon called back to duty in the Military as he was long overdue from his leave of absence. Yet there was one person he could turn to that would look after Licarlae: Sara'londe.

Sara'londe was shocked at first when Aerylon told her that he was looking after a Drowlath child, yet Aerylon was Sara'londe's closest friend. Not only that, but because of Sara'londe's ethics that came from being a healer, all life was precious... even that of a Drowlath's. Even more thankfully, Sara'londe had learned the Drow's language from her mother, just like Aerylon had from his. Sara'londe and Licarlae grew an almost instant bond. They both had quite a lot of similarities... Both never met their fathers and looked up at their mothers with great respect and love. They both also loved animals, flowers, and other such small beauties. Aerylon was relieved at that the two liked each other. It made Aerylon feel a bit safer when he had to head away for military duty knowing that Licarlae was in Sara'londe's caring hands.

Several months would pass by while Aerylon went on and off duty, visiting his family while taking care of Licarlae. Sara'londe would often come by to help Aerylon to look after Licarlae. These were the happiest moments of Aerylon's life. He grew closer and closer to Sara'londe during this time. To the Light Elf Dragoon, Sara'londe was... perfect. Everything that Sara did almost took Aerylon's breath away. Even if Aerylon could deny the intimacy he felt towards his long childhood friend before, he could no longer ignore how in love he was with her. Licarlae would often joke and poke fun at Aerylon whenever he made a fool of himself or slipped up during training because Sara watched him.

Still, Fate soon decided that Aerylon's happiness would not last forever. Though Licarlae loved Sara'londe and Aerylon like a family, she needed to find her mother. Licarlae soon told Aerylon that she couldn't wait any longer and that she knew Aerylon was hiding something from her. The Light Elf was taken back at the sudden outburst. Perhaps he was a bit naive to think that Licarlae would be content just sitting around forever and that he could avoid ever telling her that her mother was actually dead. However, he needed to find a way to handle this delicately... The last thing he wanted was Licarlae to lose all faith in him and run off alone again.

After a small moment to think over a way to approach this, Aerylon finally sighed and shook his head. He admitted he knew something of Licarlae's mother, but never hinted exactly how much he knew. Aerylon also stated that he would only reveal what he knew once they were in the Underworld, far from this place and any dangers that could harm the girl. If Licarlae didn't agree to all of these terms, Aerylon would never breathe a word of it to her. Licarlae was hesitant at first... But since this was her one chance to find her mother, she agreed.

It took Aerylon several days, but he eventually managed to use his connections through the military to request a convoy to the Underworld. He had told Sara'londe that he was taking Licarlae home and would be gone for a while for military business. Sara'londe, Aerylon, and Licarlae spent the last few days together, taking their time to say good-bye while remembering fondly of the moments they had together. Then, the convoy arrived...

The Light Elf's plan was simple: he would smuggle Licarlae with the goods they were transporting while guarding Licarlae and his mission to the Underworld safely. Simple. The caravan arrived just outside the village on a stormy night and Aerylon needed to move quickly to sneak Licarlae into the caravan before any of his men arrived... Unfortunately, Aerylon never got the chance. When Aerylon heard that the caravan finally arrived, he rushed back to the cabin to bring the Drowlath child back. Aerylon had quickly obtained Licarlae and brought her almost halfway towards the village before a voice was heard over the heavy drops of the rain and the raging thunder, "I was wondering why you were always off-duty... Commander Varaquilex."

Aerylon winced as he heard that voice. Licarlae gasped, quickly taking shelter behind the Dragoon as an older Light Elf stepped out from behind a tree. Like Aerylon, he was also dressed in plate armor, made especially for the Virianius Military. Aerylon grit his teeth as he replied in a shaken tone, "To what... do I owe the honor... Grand General Ciryatan?" The grand general was someone Aerylon had grown to respect while in service. He expressed a zeal that was unmatched by all when it came to battle... A wise and an experienced general, as well as a fearsome warrior whose skilled was only rivaled by the Legendary Commander, Ereinion Varaquilex.

The older Light Elf wore a look of stern disappointment as he paced around Aerylon and Licarlae. "So, Aerylon... This is what it came down to? Forging papers without my consent to employ an escort for a Drowlath back to the Underworld? Do you realize the gravity of situation you're in...? Your rank could be stripped and you can be thrown out of our Military for abusing your rank for -personal- use. Hand over the girl." Aerylon winced as he shook his head, making sure that Licarlae was behind him as he gripped his spear.

The Commander shook his head as he gazed at his superior... Aerylon's expression was grim, but with a look of stubborn defiance he refused. Ciryatan sighed, unsheathing his sword and pointing the tip of his weapon to Aerylon, repeating in annoyance for Aerylon to surrender Licarlae. Aerylon's eyes narrowed as he shifted his position slightly, holding his spear in a defensive position. Ciryatan shakes his head in disappointment as he calmly states that Aerylon has now added insubordination and was on the verge of treason. The grand general then stepped forward and raised his weapon...

Aerylon winced as he found himself parrying a barrage of attacks from his commanding officer. Aerylon fought back hard, utilizing everything his father taught him. The young commander had managed to push back against Ciryatan, exchanging blows with razor sharp concentration... He was fighting not only for his fate, but also for Licarlae's. Failure was not an option for him. Words of his father rung true in Aerylon's ears as sparks flashed while steel clashed upon steel, "There are two things a blade is made for... Killing is only one of its purposes..." Aerylon had finally learned a weapon's second purpose... completely contradicting the first. Life. To preserve life and to protect was the blade's second purpose... It was only a shame that it was a lesson that Aerylon learned all too late.

Ciryatan had managed to catch Aerylon off guard, pushing back and knocking Aerylon's spear out of his hands before kicking the commander to the floor. As the young Elf tumbled onto the wet dirt floor, a familiar jeweled crescent pendant fell onto the grass out of Aerylon's belt just before he scrambled to his feet, drawing his dagger and short sword as he turned to face his opponent again. Aerylon panted as he gripped his weapons firmly... It was obvious that Aerylon's experience and fighting skill paled in comparison to the Grand General's, yet he couldn't just give up and hand Licarlae to him...

The young Drowlath frowned as she worriedly watched from behind a tree she retreated to. Licarlae then noticed a glimmering piece of jewelry fall from Aerylon's belt... Her eyes widened... It was her mother's half of the pendant... A tear streamed down her eyes as she reached towards her own half, gripping onto it tightly as she whispered, "...Mother..."

Aerylon panted and grasped his upper arm in pain. Ciryatan had managed to graze past his skin through the chain mail weak points of his armor with his sword. The commander cringed as he held up both his weapons once again while Ciryatan calmly approached. The grand general stated that he had been purposefully avoiding any fatal attack in hopes that Aerylon would surrender; yet it had appeared that Aerylon would never do such a thing. Ciryatan sighed and gave Aerylon one last chance to surrender before he would be forced to deliver the finishing blow. The young commander merely stood stubbornly in his position, his weapons still raised.

Ciryatan shook his head in disappointment before rushing forward. In Aerylon's already wounded and tired state, Ciryatan easily knocked the weakened commander down from his blocking position and pulled his arm back, aiming to drive his sword clean through Aerylon's abdomen. With a flash of silver steel, a crimson flow of life splashed onto the floor... Aerylon's eyes widened as he watched the cold metal of Ciryatan's sword pierce the delicate skin of Licarlae's abdomen. The young girl froze in her spot as she was impaled by the blade, gasping in pain before silently falling on top of Aerylon.

The young commander lay on the floor, stunned at what happened. Licarlae ran in to block for him... The young Light Elf shook his head and quickly gathered his senses and rested Licarlae on her back, so he could inspect her wound. It was grim... Ciryatan's sword pierced through her stomach and she was already lying in a pool of her own blood. Aerylon was confused... Why would she do something so reckless...? "A-Aerylon...," the young Drowlath quietly whispered as she reached up towards the Light Elf commander, in her palm was the crescent pendant... Aerylon was stunned as Licarlae lay dying in his arms with the crescent pendant as a reminded that it was him who had brought such tragedy towards this girl...

Licarlae closed her eyes, letting a tear run down her cheek as she began to speak again, her voice shaking with pain, "I-I... Always knew... T-That... That you were hiding something... A-And... I felt at peace... Sitting by the grave near the cabin... It was warm... like my mother... I... I'm not mad, Aerylon... P-Please don't be sad... I'll get... to see Mother again..." The young girl then winced gasping out in pain as she clutched her wound. With the last of her fading strength, she reunited the two pieces of the pendant together again and weakly handed it towards Aerylon before whispering with her last breath, "...Please... Bring me back to my mother... Good-bye..."

Aerylon was shattered as Licarlae placed the piece of jewelry into his hand before she fell limp, her lifeless gaze turning to the side as the fire of life within the once energetic girl disappeared. The young commander shook his head, tears running down his face as he whispered, "N...No! Why...?! Why did you run in front of me?! Y-You stupid... stupid girl... I... I didn't ask you to... DON'T DIE!" The only answers to Aerylon's desperate shouts were the sounds of heavy rain dropping onto the floor. Guilt and sorrow overwhelmed the Light Elf as he held the dead child's body in his arms... Then, turning his head towards Ciryatan, Aerylon grasped his sword and dagger and cried out, "WHY!? She was only a child...! She didn't deserve this..! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" Then, in a blind rage, Aerylon charged at the Grand General.

Ciryatan easily moved to the side and slammed the blunt end of his sword against the back of Aerylon's skull. In a look of disgust, he sheathed his weapon as Aerylon felt limp onto the floor, shaking in pain as tears continued to fall from his face. The Grand General shook his head and spat out, "Why...?! Because I hate her kind... You have seen your own comrades fall at the hands of these monsters... I've suffered worse! I lost my entire family to them..." Ciryatan then narrowed his eyes as he turned away from the fallen Commander, "You are young and reckless. Your mind is clouded with rage... You're nothing in this state... Think about the girl. Her sacrifice would be in vain if you drag out this fight... Now out of respect to who you once were and for your father's sake... You are banished from Virianius. If I see you again, I will kill you... Think of how it would crush your father if he ever learned his son was a traitor. He is a very proud man, Aerylon... And to preserve your family's honor, for all intents and purposes, you died an honorable death in battle while chasing a spy..." With that, the Grand General left Aerylon lying on the floor shaking with his own guilt and sorrow.

The next day, Aerylon stood in front of the set of graves belonging to both Licarlae Mina'fel and her mother, still bruised and wounded from the night before. The Light Elf, now banished from his home, stared dully at the two small shrines; gripping the single, rejoined pendant in his hand. Aerylon took a shaky breath as he closed his eyes, a tear falling from his face onto the dirt of Licarlae's grave before turning towards the cabin one last time before picking up a light traveling pack and walking away from the life he could never return to.

The cabin was now a solitary witness towards Aerylon's trials... On the table rested a last, single piece of paper; chronicling Aerylon's final words before he left. It read as follows:

My Dearest Sara'londe,
Whatever Ciryatan might tell you... He has lied. The "honorable death" in battle I have been graced with in the General’s story is all but a myth. The only one who has perished... is Licarlae. Her reckless and fearless spirit forced her to rush in between Ciryatan and my own blades... She was killed taking the blow that would have lead to my demise. Though she had saved me, she now lies dead next to the grave of her mother... And I, in my uselessness, was spared from Ciryatan's blade... Still, Ciryatan has forbidden me to ever step foot in Virianius again. If I did, he would kill me and my family's honor would be at stake... I have already failed one of the people whom I have cherished most. I will not make the same mistake again. By the time you read this letter, I will be long gone. However, I swear to you that, one day, I will return to your loving grasp... And I will settle my feud with the murderer. Please, tell my parents that I love them and know that my love is with you, always. Until next we meet.

For the next few decades Aerylon worked as a mercenary for hire. The life as a mercenary was difficult for the Light Elf, spent wandering aimlessly around the Overworld. His plate armor became like a second skin and the closed visor of his helmet, his face. His mercenary life only revolved around blood and money... Life seemed empty and hard, yet the memory of Licarlae's sacrifice and his promise to Sara'londe was more than enough drive to continue his fight for life. He often had to wear a cloak to meet with employers from human cities, misleading them to think he was a human. It was during this time when Aerylon developed a taste of alcohol to drown out the miseries of life and to silence the ghosts of guilt that constantly haunted his every waking moment.

It wasn't until Aerylon was presented with a job that consisted of purging a small group of bandits from an area around a Dark Elven ruin that anything dramatically changed in his life. It was supposed to be a joint operation with several mercenaries including Aerylon to dispose of the bandits. Though Aerylon and his allies were better armed, the "small" group of bandits proved to outnumber the mercenary force. In a valiant effort, the mercenaries managed to bring down a large number of the bandits. However, the bandits' superior numbers overwhelmed them; soon leaving Aerylon as the last mercenary alive. The Light Elf panted as he gazed around... desperately outnumbered. Still, Aerylon refused to surrender, bringing down as many bandits as he could before a crossbow bolt pierced the head of one of Aerylon's assailants. The bandits then quickly retreated upon realizing that maybe there was more opposition than they had originally perceived.

The Light Elf winced as he watched in confusion at the bandits' sudden retreat before collapsing into a sitting position. Glancing around at the broken bodies of allies and enemy alike, he could only wonder what scared the bandits so badly... They had him. His answers were suddenly answered as footsteps were heard in the now still air. Aerylon quickly picked himself up, holding his spear up, fearing another attack. What came into view was something that Aerylon hadn't been expecting at all: a band of fully armed warriors garbed in strange tan-colored armor.

At first, Aerylon was confused... What were these people doing here? Were they hostile or not? "Now...," one of the strange warriors started in the Elven tongue, "Is that any way to greet the people who just saved your life?" The mysterious warrior then smirked as she deactivated her face mask, revealing a Drowlath's black skin and a pair of purple colored eyes. Aerylon winced just slightly out of surprise before letting out a sigh and pulled off his helmet, bowing towards his savior in gratitude and respect, still unsure as to why a Drow would save his life.

Aerylon was even more perplexed at the strange group's members... Though most of the group was composed of Drowlath, there were a few Light Elves. The Drowlath who had spoken earlier soon introduced herself as Shanna'fay Essia, Captain of a division of the Val'Sarghress Highland Raiders, the group who had just saved Aerylon's life. The Light Elf was skeptical at first, questioning the Val'Sarghress officer why she would order her forces to save a nameless mercenary like himself while letting everyone else die. Shanna simply shook her head, replying calmly that she simply liked Aerylon. Even when he was outnumbered and without hope, Aerylon continued to fight and brought down many of the assailants single-handedly... The trait of having such high stamina and resilience was something the captain looked highly on. Shanna'fay then smiled as she began to ask her own questions... specifically who Aerylon was.
Walking Contradiction
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Postby kembaru » Sun Oct 01, 2006 11:47 pm

Shaking his head at this, Aerylon decided there was no harm in telling the truth. The Light Elf explained that he was only one of several mercenaries who were employed to clear out the area of the group of bandits that were there. Aside from that, he only gave his name; not breathing a word of his former life as a commander. Shanna'fay smiled at this before slyly offering Aerylon another job; one that was much more long-term and offered more money than all of his other previous jobs as well as a place to sleep. With Aerylon's eager agreement, it started his years as a mercenary working for the Val'Sarghress Highland Raiders.

The Light Elf quickly learned of the Raiders' business within the area. Apparently, they were planning on relic hunting inside of the ruins and arrived just in time to watch Aerylon and the mercenaries wage battle with the bandits. Aerylon swiftly learned the arts of relic hunting from the Raiders and soon became vital assistance, despite being only unofficially affiliated with the troop. The Light Elf slowly began to enjoy life again with the Raiders, taking an interest in Drow life and learning about the clans, especially the Val'Sarghress. Being with the Raiders reminded Aerylon of life in Virianius' military... The comradeship was something he had missed and finally felt at ease being with people whom he could see as friends.

By the age of eighty-seven, five years after first being employed by the Highland Raiders, Aerylon had taken part in several operations and had proven his loyalty and resourcefulness countless times. It was on Aerylon's fifth anniversary of joining the Raiders as a hireling that Shanna approached Aerylon with a proposition. Since Aerylon had been working with the Highland Raiders for quite some time now, Shanna'fay offered Aerylon a position as an official Highland Raider. The Light Elf was more than happy to accept Shanna'fay's offer. Though Aerylon knew he was making a commitment to serve the Val'Sarghress clan and the Highland Raiders, he was technically doing the same thing already and figured that this group was possibly one of the places he could belong.

Aerylon soon replaced his old, worn armor which he had donned since he was enlisted in Virianius' forces with newly polished plate mail armor issued exclusively to the Highland Raiders. The Light Elf also replaced his old lance with a Drow-crafted spear that was made to Aerylon's specifications that was forged as a welcoming gift from Shanna'fay. The next day, Aerylon began working for the Val'Sarghress as a fully fledged Highland Raider.

For the next thirty years, Aerylon would work his way up from being a simple warrior of the Raiders to becoming Shanna'fay's Lieutenant; her most trusted officer. However, one day while returning to Chel'el'sussoloth to report in a number of relics that were successfully extracted from various ruins to the clan, Shanna'fay was assigned a higher position within another division of the Highland Raiders. Before Shanna left, she appointed Aerylon to be the new Captain of her old division. The Light Elf sadly took the task and wished Shanna'fay the best of luck in her new division.

By the age of a hundred-thirty-two, Aerylon had led his division through several successful ruin raids. The Light Elf's skills in tactics, martial skill, and Wind Sorcery had grown a considerable deal since his days in Virianius. Aerylon continues to serve the Sarghress as a talented Captain, taking every step to help the clan as well as his subordinates. Still, even through his service, Aerylon has not once forgotten his promise to Sara'londe and still intends on one day returning to his homeland.

Despite the trials Aerylon has endured in his life, the Light Elf has a laid back attitude most of the time. Since Aerylon has risked his life countless time over the years, he's learned that one can't go through life scared or like a stiff. Aerylon believes in having a little fun in life since one could die at any moment. However, in the heat of battle and in the presence of superior officers, Aerylon maintains a solid focus and image, leaving his more carefree attitude for more peaceful times. Apart from completing his objectives, Aerylon considers his subordinates and allies' well being a top priority.

Aerylon also dislikes religion, since it was one of the main reasons the Light Elves and Dark Elves waged the War of the Moons that ravaged their lands and put the two races on opposing sides. And unlike other elves, Aerylon holds a high respect for all races, especially the Drow after looking after Licarlae and fighting alongside them for so long. Aerylon also enjoys drinking and gambling, specializing in card games such as many variations of poker. From time to time, Aerylon will play a song or a ballad on his flute that his mother had given him as a reminder of where he came from.

Although Aerylon has a cheerful exterior outside of battle and a calm strong will in battle, a part of him still feels guilt and regret for Licarlae's death. However, Aerylon also has a strong sense of honor and will almost never show any signs of weakness and refuses to talk about his past regarding Licarlae. The only hint anyone ever has that something about Aerylon's past bothering him is when he sleeps. While he rests, Aerylon occasionally has nightmares regarding his life in Virianius and mutters apologies in his sleep.

Aerylon stands a height of six feet tall with a rather slim yet muscular build. Although he doesn't possess pure raw physical power as most bulky soldiers do; Aerylon is quite powerful for his build as demonstrated in his ability to wield a full metal spear gracefully, while in plate armor since he has spent his entire life training and fighting under the weight of heavy armor.

The Light Elf's hair is tied into a thick braid that runs down to the small of his back. For the most part Aerylon's hair is the color of very light yellow, save for two locks that hang on either side of his face and the bottom half of Aerylon's braid that are dyed completely black. Aerylon also possesses a light skin complexion and pure sapphire colored eyes, making his heritage as a Light Elf quite obvious. Also, since Aerylon works in the Overworld most of the time, with the exceptions of coming back into the Underworld when needed, Aerylon has not been eating that many mushrooms. As such, Aerylon's mouth is not purple colored and is instead the normal pink color.

When on duty, Aerylon is fully dressed in the Val'Sarghress Highland Raider armor with a white cape. When the helmet is equipped, Aerylon's long braid protrudes from the back, acting somewhat like a plume. Along with his armor, he also wears his personal belt which carries his many items, including his short sword and dagger which rests on the back of the belt crossing each other diagonally. When not carrying his spear, Aerylon tends to tuck the folded weapon in-between the dagger and short sword, parallel to the belt.

In the rare cases when Aerylon isn't wearing his Highland Raider armor, he usually dons a blue short sleeved shirt with a matching black pair of pants made of spider-silk along with a set of heavy leather boots with rubber soles. On left of the upper arm of the shirt is a black insignia of the Val'Sarghress clan and on the right is a black insignia of a phoenix engulfed in an aura of flame, the symbol of the Varaquilex family. Even when in these clothes, Aerylon always wears his personal belt equipped with his weapons and the forearm protectors of his Raider armor.
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