Elneiros
| Elneiros | |||||||
| Male Killoren | |||||||
| Player: Numbers Guy | |||||||
[[Image: |300x600px|]]
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| General Information | ||||||||||
| Full Name: | Elneiros | |||||||||
| Nicknames: | Warden of the Wilds | |||||||||
| Age: | Unknown | |||||||||
| Deity: | Ehlonna | |||||||||
| Alignment: |
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| Occupation: | Tender of Worlds | |||||||||
| Faction/Rank: | None | |||||||||
| Place of Birth: | Oerth - Corella | |||||||||
| Physical Attributes | ||||||||||
| Height: | 5'10" / 155 cm | |||||||||
| Weight: | 143 lbs / 65 kg | |||||||||
| Eyes: | Sapphire | |||||||||
| Hair: | White | |||||||||
| Complexion: | Ecru | |||||||||
| Physical Build: | Lithe | |||||||||
| Physical Features: | Half-Elven, lightly tanned, earthy. | |||||||||
| Skills | ||||||||||
| Calling upon the might of nature, tracking, wilderness lore, language, planar knowledge. | ||||||||||
| Equipment and Items | ||||||||||
| Simple staff and garb; only what you might find in the forest. | ||||||||||
"The power which can destroy a thing may also be used to preserve it."
Appearance
Elneiros’ outward features are a blur of human and elven heritage. His skin is lightly tanned and has the texture and vitality of a young leaf. His eyes shimmer unpredictably to reflect anything from the clear sky to the deep blue of a thunderstorm. His hair is a windswept, silvery white, though time has not touched him. His garbs are simple, being from only what the forest has provided him. His leathers are made of a dying boar’s bequeath when eased in passing at a ripe age. His shoulder piece is a fragment of shell as a gift from a giant tortoise. His staff is a knotted branch grown by a great whitewood he accompanied for a year during meditation. The fabric of his cloak seems to be an intricately woven mesh from hundreds of silk worms.
When Elneiros chooses, he may borrow from his environment by altering his appearance, be it the
strength of a bear, the agility of the wolf, the speed of the stag, or other, more mysterious facets of the
deep wood. Likewise, killoren are able to manifest differing aspects of nature, causing their natural
physical appearance to alter a great deal. Their hair and eyes range from shades of greens and blues
to solid blacks and whites depending upon which characteristic of the forest they choose to represent.
Over the centuries, Elneiros has slowly adapted his body to the innate tendencies of his fey blood. His
unveiled form resembles a creature of earth and magic that is similar in size to his usual half-elf
appearance, but alien to society in all other aspects.
Personality
Elneiros’ fey blood and human birth sets him in a unique position to wield the power of the
natural world,
while lacking the passive characteristics of the traditional fey. Killoren are some of
the few aggressive
defenders of nature that readily delve the untapped power of the earth to
prevent the repetition of the
injustice they are born from. Elneiros considers all of nature his home,
and thus spends his time roaming
where needed in the defense of the forest. He has
experienced much of this in his centuries, but often
findshimself growing weary of the ever-
changing outside world that infringes upon the wood. He prefers to
allocate the majority of his time
away from society, choosing to converse with beings of the wild and often
only emerging for a few
years between his decades of meditation.
Within society’s walls, Elneiros disguises himself to better represent a human appearance,
particularly
to blend into the background to listen and observe. Every so often, he will give a slight
impression of his
origin, be it a flicker in appearance of his fey blood or a tinge of the deep magic
in his veins. Regardless,
his presence among mortals is undeniable, and his voice can often be
heard in the council meetings of man,
elves, and dwarves alike, carefully shaping the wars of
Oerth to refrain from imposing upon the surrounding
wilderness. While Elneiros almost always
harbors a calm and reserved expression during his expeditions
from the wild, great injustices
have unleashed his fury, along with his might.
History
Elneiros is a name taken by a killoren born from a terrible mistake. It is said that this particular type
of
fey is created from the wrongful death, often by the hands of society. In his case, the story of
Elneiros
began with a poor traveler and his pregnant wife. Unable to afford an escort, they sought
haven from
dangerous high roads by means of hiking through the forests. Foolish as this was,
beings of the wild
were not very well known to city dwellers, and they traveled deeper into the
wood. Far away from any
civilization, they unwittingly stumbled upon a nest of young sprite. To
them, the strange orbs of light
began to buzz wildly around the woman’s protruding belly. In his
ignorance, the man crushed one of
the curious fey in fear of his unborn child’s safety. A sudden
twist of pain entered the woman’s
abdomen, but was soon forgotten as they hurried away, the
feeling not unlike the other discomforts
of late pregnancy. It was that moment when Elneiros came
to be.
Elneiros’ birth was not so different than human standards. A killoren is small and slender compared
to
other races, but his tanned skin was hardly noticeable as a baby. However, he began to age at an
unnatural
rate and before long, his skin developed a textured impression that would easily be noticed were
someone to
stop and look. Nearing his second birthday, Elnerios was akin to a six year old boy by human
standards. He
quickly learned to grow his hair out to cover the slight point of his ears, but the rising
trend in changes forced
his parents to move villages every year to avoid suspicion. His childhood
lasted a mere ten years before the
magic in his blood matured him to adulthood. Over the
decades, Elneiros remained as an outsider in the
same town as his parents, never allowing himself
much freedom for fear of discovery. The grasp of time did
not affect him the way it did the others. To him, it was as if a few seasons had passed when his parents
were
old and soon to pass.
Having no true remaining connection with the humans of his village, Elneiros abandoned his home and
the
only world he knew, driven by an innate instinct for something more. Yet, he soon came to realize his
timeless
nature has no place among mortals, even amidst the long-lived race of elves in Corella.
However, after a life
time of longing, he discovered his place in a vast stretch of forest that stirred
the ancient blood of his fey
heritage. The truth of his origin quickly came as a realization as he
convened with the wild. In the centuries
following, Elneiros became a keeper of the very wood he
was conceived in. At first, he merely defended the
boarders of his new world, but he came to
realize that he was capable of doing what the wilds were not –
defending nature by word of mouth
within the walls of civilization. With time, Elneiros’ influence expanded,
allowing him to turn his
attention to encompass all of Oerth. Surpassing half a millennia as nature’s envoy,
Elneiros has
begun to frequent other worlds. Using Sigil as a crossroad, he has followed a path as a
tender of
worlds.
An Excerpt
"The truth? You realize that it isn’t easy being immortal. If you stay in one place for long enough, people begin to notice you. As they grow old, sick and pass away, you become a strange anomaly. What people don't understand, they fear, and that way you become a target. So there's no opportunity to settle down, even to become a recluse in the tumbledown house on the edge of town, because that itself draws attention.
So you travel. You have to. You settle down for a short time; big cities are easier than small town, since they're more anonymous; but even then, you're attuned to the locals’ reactions. A sixth sense alerts you to greater than acceptable levels of curiosity and after a few decades, you have to move on. A few decades seems like a long time to the short-lived, but to you, that's barely more than a pause to appreciate the scenery. You can never settle. You're never truly at peace. A wanderer filled with all of humanity's knowledge but separated from humanity by an invisible scythe of time which cleaves them from you.
Under those circumstances, you become lonely. Not just the usual loneliness of someone who can never find a long term partner. That goes without saying. You can never have a longer relationship than a few years because you know it will lead to impossible to answer questions. Even in one of those partnerships, you begin with a heavy heart because you know it will come to an end, and it will be you who breaks it off. A moment of pain, another pair of wounded eyes gazing at you with confusion, unable to understand why you walk away despite it going so well. How can you explain you're doing it for your protection, and theirs? Better to be celibate. Better to be alone.
No, the real loneliness grows more profound the longer you live because you have become distinct from these short-lived creatures. You understand the simplicity of each individual's development as they might that of a fly. Short, simple lives, all following the same pattern, barely any differentiation. Once in a while, a genius emerges who can see a little deeper into time and makes a contribution to the shared understanding of the universe, but on the whole, these fruit flies with their fruit fly thoughts guide their societies blindly, repeating the same mistakes you've seen hundreds of times before. You could steer them right - but that would draw attention to yourself and that way lies destruction.
Instead, the loneliness drives you further away from great clusters of humanity and into the hills. There, the great rhythms of nature, the whirling stars, the thoughtless sway of the trees, the storms that break up the silence of the endless summers, these become your companions. The buzzing activity of humanity down in the valleys becomes background noise. You revel in the silence and spend great swathes of time in contemplation.
Once in a while, a pilgrim will brave the tracks up into the hills. They began to do this some time ago, drawn by rumors of wise hermits that live in the hills. They are all like, these ones, bright-eyed, sincere. If, by chance, they happen upon you they sit nearby in respectful silence, in order to avoid disturbing your contemplation. You appreciate this. Occasionally, they ask questions. Long ago, you realized the futility of answering any of these questions at length - what answer could you give that had not been given before? You restrict your replies to nodding or shaking your head, and rather than listening to their questions, you simply wait for them to stop speaking and choose your reply randomly. Some of them go away delighted, others confused.
Finally, even these intrusions have grown wearisome. You hike far, far up into the most remote ridges of the mountain and settle down beside a young sapling. Here you have decided to sit on top of the world and contemplate the stars at night and the sun in the day, to wait for the tree to grow around you and swallow you up."
