Etherion Kylothis (The Guardian of all things living, The thunderous bear, Warg cursed)
Race: Feral Syndar
Class: Mage
Age: 140 (born 128)
Eyes:One yellow, one white
Player: Michael Hannes
Skills: Arcane magic, Improved arcane magic,Lore ritual, Trade weaver, dual wield, meditation.
Year 128- 247
Etherion was born to the Lost tribe of ferals but did not have the trait of green skin. He was born with two different colored eyes vastly contrasting each other. One being as yellow as the golden sun and one as white as the new moon. Some saw it as an omen that he was favored by the gods Lunara and Solara. Others saw it as an omen of a cursed fate. Some speculate he was actually not born of the Lost but was instead found as a baby. Others say is an omen of death and he should be banished from the Lost. His only saving grace was the current Shaman of his bloodline calming the minds of his kin saying a child born of pale skin was a rare sight but a blessed one. He would do great things in his lifetime and many would be proven wrong about their skepticism. He was a very curious child as he aged, wondering what created the world and why things are the way they are. The elders taught him of their gods and of Lunara and Solara. He was confused as to why there were so many but that just fed his lust for knowledge even more. He began to learn of Shaman practices and rituals and was taken on his spiritual journey to find his totem. They sat in a meditation circle around a fire pit as the Shaman cast herbs and salts into the fire.
“What do you feel young one?” the Shaman asked.
“I feel the heat of the flames, the strength of our bloodline, and the courage to seek as much knowledge as one is able.” he replied.
“Close your eyes and tell me what you hear.”
“Roaring, heavy breathing, heavy footsteps, and snapping of branches.”
“Look into the flames and tell me what you see!”
“A bear. Strong and fearless. Thunderously charging to ward off a cougar that was stalking its cubs. A scar over its right eye shows this isn’t the first time it has been a guardian to its young.”
“You have your totem young one. The bear is a guardian spirit who chooses those that wish to keep others safe and out of harm’s way. Fitting for one so curious.”
The Shaman laughed and threw salts into the fire that made the flames shoot up as the other Lost began to beat drums and dance in celebration and chant.
As he aged into his mid 30’s he began to understand more of magic and how to harness it into protective auras. He was noticed by the elders and tested on his knowledge of the arcane arts and rituals. He exceeded expectations being able to cast spells powerful enough to negate even the darkest of magics. With the totem of the bear as his spirit animal it was no surprise that Etherion could cast such spells with ease. The current shaman was old and beginning his journey to return the mana stream. With his passing, the elders named Etherion shaman of his bloodline in the year 226. The Guardian of life, and The Thunderous Bear were names bestowed upon him as well. He was given a ceremonial dagger made from a bucks antler for certain rituals. Though one of the elders saw darkness in Etherions future, the others did not see any reason to mistrust the young Shaman. As he grew so did his lust for even more knowledge. For decades he pestered the elders about sharing as many stories as possible. Until they got to the story of the Great Wolves, known as The Wargs.
“WHY!??” Etherion exclaimed. “They were animals of nature. Loyal to each other as we are. Why would we make an entire species extinct?”
The elders gave their reasons, but each excuse fell on deaf ears. He had heard enough….for once. Etherion made a promise to himself that he would never take the life of a living creature unless there was no choice. But he would help others stay safe if he was able.
The year is 254.
Etherion continued his practices as a shaman weaving mana into protective spells and strengthening the ones he knew. Time passed and he began to feel like he was losing connection to his bloodline. Though he was the shaman others began to look at him in disgust. The elders called for a council.
“Etherion, there are many here that believe you unfit to be named our Shaman. Your ignorance and outburst toward the elders about the fate of the Warg after you persistently asked that they tell you will not be taken lightly. We hereby banish you from this tribe. You will also be branded with the symbol of the wolf, a sign of bad luck for our people. And I give you the name of Warg Cursed so that all may know of what you truly believe!”
Etherion chuckled, “You call it a curse, I call it love of nature and the preservation of life. I’ll gladly accept your mark if it means that I can show that I am a lover of all things that call this world home!”
He was laid on the ground and given a tattoo of a Warg on his chest. He then packed his materials and belongings used for spellcasting and left. Making his way south hoping another family group would take him in. One by one he went from camp to camp being shunned away as the sight of the tattoo given to him. He was alone now or so it seemed. He prayed to the gods but they wouldn’t answer him. He set up a small camp and stared into the flames.
“Why have you abandoned me? Why when I need you the most, you forsake and curse me? I prayed to you for my spells and rituals and now that all means nothing. To hell with you then. I shall await to return to the mana stream whenever that may be.”
A rustling was heard from the bushes. A massive bear lumbers from behind the bush and meets its gaze with Etherions. A scar over the bears right eye is quickly noticed. He thinks it’s only fitting to for him to be returned to the mana stream by his own totem spirit. He bows his head to the beast and awaits its attack.
“Raise your head Etherion.” A low but calming voice lets out.
Etherion looks at the bear, “ This is a dream. It must be.”
“This is no dream shaman. I am here. I am real. As are my companions.”
Just then a wolf comes from behind the brush and a raven lands on the bears shoulder. Confused Etherion just sits and studies before asking why they are here and how he can understand them.
The wolf speaks, “You are a preserver of life. We are the three guardian spirits of nature. I am Bryn. Guardian of loyalty, family and the defender of the body.”
The Raven caws, “ I am Jafnvaegi, Guardian of life, death, and the balance of nature.”
“And I am Skjoldur, Guardian of strength, courage, and protection. You still have much to do Etherion. Your journey is still beginning and there is much to be done. Lives are being lost in a war that cannot be won and soon this war will consume you as well. The balance of nature has been lost, the dead live again and are murdering countless innocent people. You must help those that you can. That is your purpose as a guardian of life. To save others!”
“Where must I go? How can I save them?”
“Head south, there are evacuations being made towards ships to the East. A new land has been discovered and it is believed you may find life there. Go Etherion, and remember. The Guardians guide you.”
Etherion races south not knowing where exactly to go but trusting in his new found gods he does not fear what lies ahead. For days he continues south until he comes upon a town wrought with flame, screams echoing out and piercing his eardrums. He sprints to the town and is met with an axe at his throat.
“I am here to help! I saw the flames and heard the screams!”
A man in chainmail with a red and gray tabard looks Etherion up and down. The axe he wields is engraved with a wolf carving on the blade and a wolf head for the pommel. “And how exactly is a feral supposed to help in this situation?”
“I am a shaman, I can help get people to safety.”
“HAHA yeah right, all your wuju magic won’t do any good.” Just then an undead slumps behind the man and raises a sword ready to strike.
Etherion moves the man out of his way, and channels his mana, “PUSH!!!!” Etherion sends the creature hurtling backwards.
The man looks at Etherion with shock in his eyes. “Thanks for that. It would have killed me for sure. Alright you can help, there are some civilians being evacuated not far from here. We need to buy them time to get on the ships at the Eastern docks. My name is Galvan by the way.”
WIthout hesitation Etherion and Galvan make haste towards the civilians. As they arrive Etherion notices how many people there are and how many are still coming. How will they save all these people? How many will die? How many will suffer? How many will be lost? Etherion looks at Galvan with determination. “What causes the dead to rise? Who is behind the spells that prevents them from rest?” Etherion asks.
“It started as peasants believing the world is being judged by divine power and that the undead are here to purge the land of the living. To save themselves they joined the undead and made themselves known as the Penitent. As more and more people fell to this plague the ranks of the undead grew at an alarming rate. Beginning with humans some Syndar joined the Penitent as well. Hope seems lost which is why we must help as many people get to the ships as we can.”
The two arrive at the village to see a line of Vandregonian soldiers moving towards the southern gate with haste. Civilians are being escorted to the docks in a panic. Chaos, death, fear, all are observed in the streets of the village. Children crying for they do not understand what is happening. Mothers cry for their children’s safety, and for the men that are fighting to protect them. Etherion loses himself for a moment. He thinks to himself, “So much death. So much pain and suffering. Have the Gods truly forsaken this land?” He collects himself and looks to Galvan.
“Alright first things first, there is dark magic here so let me protect you. I need you to kneel for but a moment.”
Etherion rolls out his weaver mat for Galvan to kneel. Etherion begins to chant and weave mana around the two of them. The chanting ceases and Etherion pulls his ceremonial dagger to cut his hand. He takes two fingers and draws a symbol on Galvans forehead and a black aura appears around him. “That will protect you from dark magic but not forever. Galvan thanks him and rises for battle. They turn and escort people behind the ranks of the vandregonian soldiers defending the frontlines from undead and penitent forces. Etherion continues to cast spells and send undead backwards. The Vandregonian line begins to fall and the ranks break. Running short on mana Etherion needs to find a weapon to defend himself with. He picks up a blood stained kukri and tries his best to defend. Galvan is at his side hacking down undead and penitent. Etherion notices a mage on the penitent side channeling dark magic and targeting him. He can’t stop it.he is going to die here. The mage casts a ball of dark energy at Etherion but Galvan jumps in the way absorbing it with the aura Etherion put on him. Galvan looks at Etherion, “I would say we are even now.” Galvan laughs and turns back to see a hulking undead in front of him. The undead drives its sword through Galvan lifting him off his feet. Using his last bit of mana Etherion blasts the undead with magic sending it flying backwards. He drags Galvan off the field to the medics tent to be patched up. Nothing can be done. The wound is too grievous and deep. “I am sorry Galvan.” Etherion begins to tear up as he holds Galvans hand. Galvan holds his axe and places it to Etherions chest. “Take this with you on the ship. I have done my duty as a soldier but I know you aren’t finished yet” Etherion begins to cry as he feels the life slip from Galvan. “May the Guardians guide you in the afterlife.” Etherion sat to meditate on the events that have transpired.
So many have died. So many have been lost. How can things like this exist? How can evil such as this manifest itself into the hearts of others to bring the dead back to life. How? Why? Just……why? He thought of what Glavan told him about the Penitent. How it began with Humans joining the ranks of the Penitent by choice, and Syndar joining later.
He rises from his meditation with one thing clear in his mind.
Humans, it all started with humans…….
He escorts as many people as he can to the ships but knows it will never be enough to count for the lives lost to this evil. The sad truth that nothing can save those who have fallen from joining the ranks of the undead overwhelms Etherion. As the last ship begins to set sail towards the new land Etherion can’t help but cry. He feels as though he has failed as a guardian. He feels he could have done more. But how? Perhaps this new world will give him a chance for redemption.
Year 261-268
The voyage is long and arduous but the ship finally reaches land. Those that came on the ship are lead to the fortress of Starkhaven. Etherion helps those find shelter, and aids those that are sick or hurt any way he can. After a few years Etherion sees the colony begin to almost thrive. He feels a calling north. To lands unknown to him, but known to others that have shared stories of the Ulven. A proud and barbaric race that had strict codes of honor and a strong connection with nature. Perhaps among them he could find his new calling and explore this new world. But a few things are certain. The Guardians guide him, and the horrors of Faedrun still haunt his nightmares.
Retirement Story:
As the suns and moons passed over the land Etherion found himself thinking about his purpose in life. Whether he made the right choice to follow the bear, wolf, and raven that came to him in his dreams, or if he had made a grave mistake. Abandoning his tribe as their shaman was not an easy thing to do in the first place, but now thinking back with regret he begins to realize that he wants to go home. To assume his place as shaman to his tribe once more. But would they welcome his return? Or would he be banished for pursuing these “false gods”? Only time shall tell, until then he looks to return home with hope in his heart.
As Etherion begins home he starts to wonder and worry how he will be received. “Will they welcome me with open arms?” “Will I be able to assume my role as shaman?” “Will the even allow me to live among them after renouncing our Gods in pursuit of the false once that invaded my dreams?” These thoughts and more raced through his mind and weighed heavy on his heart.
The journey home was long and arduous not because of the path itself, but because of the fear of the unknown upon his return. Etherion was determined to stand before the council none the less and explain his faults and mistakes. On his journey he kept thinking about the animals that presented themselves as his “True Gods”. What did they want? Do they even exist? Was it all just fever dreams? Or were they some sort of message that he was unable to understand? As Etherion arrived at his former village he immediately noticed one of the council Elders approaching him. As the Elder drew near Etherion put his hand put, “Before you speak Lonarri’un, I would say my piece first. I understand and acknowledge the mistakes I made in leaving. I understand the sacrilege I committed in pursuit of false Gods, and I am prepared to face determined judgement. All I ask is that I be able to atone for these sins and once again resume my mantle as shaman. Even if I must spend another 100 years as an underling.” Lonarri’un paused and turned to the rest of the village. “At last the Gods have answered our prayers, and our beloved shaman has returned home! Welcome home, shaman.”
As tears filled his eyes Etherion, fighting the urge to drop to his knees and sob out of sheer happiness, bowed to the Lonarri’un and the village with respect. It was good to finally be home.
