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Riend (prime): Difference between revisions
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You see Riend Ar'Fiernel the Master Artisan.<br /> |
You see Riend Ar'Fiernel the Master Artisan.<br /> |
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She appears to be a Sylvankind.<br /> |
She appears to be a Sylvankind.<br /> |
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She is tall in stature and has a lithesome, nimble build. She appears to be in the bloom of youth. She has expressive, |
She is tall in stature and has a lithesome, nimble build. She appears to be in the bloom of youth. She has expressive, chestnut-haloed malachite green eyes and gardenia white skin. She has fine, textured hellebore black hair cropped to fall in tousled, sheared layers reaching just below her ears. She has an oval face, a gently sloped nose and slender shoulders. Though her features are predominantly sylvan, subtleties in the shape of her face and the tilt of her eyes appear faintly erithian. |
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==Origin== |
==Origin== |
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Riend’s home lies deep within the southeast forests of Elanthia, nestled between the site of the once-great sylvan stronghold of Nevishrim and the winding cliffs of Barrett’s Gorge. The settlement was first established in the year 1343, though some of the older families whisper of an even earlier encampment near Ne’Yuscarl Point, the truth of which depends on which founding family’s tale you hear. |
Riend’s home lies deep within the southeast forests of Elanthia, nestled between the site of the once-great sylvan stronghold of Nevishrim and the winding cliffs of Barrett’s Gorge. The settlement was first established in the year 1343, though some of the older families whisper of an even earlier encampment near Ne’Yuscarl Point, the truth of which depends on which founding family’s tale you hear. |
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It was the wise and honorable sylvan mage, Illiweth Siergeth, who united the sylvankind of all the D'ahranal following the closing of |
It was the wise and honorable sylvan mage, Illiweth Siergeth, who united the sylvankind of all the D'ahranal following the closing of Yuriqen. Seeking refuge from the turmoil that followed, they first made their way to the fringes of the Southron Wastes, gathering sylvans who had fled after the battle with Myrdanian. From there, they retraced the ancient paths that had once guided their people to the Silver Veil.<br /> |
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===The First Year=== |
===The First Year=== |
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With so many |
With so many in their caravan, it took nearly a decade to traverse the harsh, unyielding terrain to the dense, shadowed forests cradled at the base of the Dragonspine. Along the way, relentless conditions, constant peril, and the creeping shadow of sickness took their toll. What had once been a thriving caravan of tens of thousands dwindled to barely three thousand weary survivors. |
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In the early spring of 1343, the |
In the early spring of 1343, the sylvans established the settlement of Llythwere—a fragile yet defiant symbol of their resilience. A people long bound to a nomadic existence finally began to root themselves, carving out a home amidst the towering, ancient trees. Plans were drawn for a modest but unmistakably sylvan haven high within the forest canopy, a tribute to their deep connection with nature. But before construction could begin, foraging patrols were dispatched to gather essential materials. None returned. |
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Fear seeped into the fledgling settlement like a slow poison. Whispers of abandoning Llythwere and seeking refuge in Ta’Illistim gained momentum, the prospect of enduring the elves’ overbearing presence deemed preferable to facing a mysterious and lethal unknown. The newly formed sylvan council convened, their deliberations fraught with desperation. After two tense weeks, they resolved to stay, choosing to confront the encroaching darkness rather than retreat. |
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Whispers of fear began to thread through the people of Llythwere, the sense of unease growing with each passing day. Talk of moving north, closer to the relative safety of Ta’Illistim, started to circulate. The prospect of dealing with the often intrusive elves seemed the lesser evil compared to dying alone in an unforgiving wilderness. The fledgling council, still in its infancy and having only just been formed weeks prior, convened in desperate deliberation. After a fortnight of tense discussions, they reached the decision to remain in Llythwere, resolved to face the unknown rather than retreat. |
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But as |
But as the days stretched into weeks, an invisible menace began to plague the settlement. There was no sign of an enemy, no clues left behind—only the chilling fact that sylvans were disappearing. Men, women, and children vanished without warning, taken in the dead of night. Each morning brought fresh grief as families awoke to discover empty beds and loved ones gone. No one was safe. No one understood what hunted them. |
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It wasn’t until the fourth month that the truth was finally revealed: a ruthless band of rogue Faendryl had targeted Llythwere. Weak from their arduous journey, the sylvans were no match for the relentless raiders. Malnourished and poorly armed, they suffered devastating losses as the Faendryl struck again and again. By the end of the brutal assaults, fewer than five hundred sylvans remained. |
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It wasn’t until the fourth month of their settlement in Llythwere that the identity of their enemy was revealed: a band of rogue faendryl bandits. The long, treacherous journey had already weakened them, leaving the survivors malnourished and frail. Their numbers were decimated in a series of brutal raids, leaving fewer than five hundred sylvans alive. With so many of the Ne’Yuscarl gone and Illiweth Siergeth’s health rapidly declining, they no longer had the strength to call upon the powerful Nanrithowan wards that had once protected their people. They were left with only a handful of weapons to defend themselves against the relentless invaders. |
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The situation grew increasingly dire. The Ne’Yuscarl, their stalwart protectors, were nearly wiped out, and Illiweth Siergeth, their last great mage, was gravely ill. The once-powerful Nanrithowan wards that had shielded their people were now beyond their reach, their magic fading with no one left to sustain it. Armed with only a handful of weapons and dwindling resolve, the sylvans faced annihilation. |
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Raiding continued throughout the spring, and by the heat of mid-summer, fewer than a hundred sylvans remained in Llythwere. Their supplies were dangerously low, unable to last through the coming winter, and without the ability to grow crops or the courage to venture into the perilous forest to forage, they found themselves on the brink of collapse. In a desperate bid for salvation, the council turned to Imaera and convened a commune that lasted nine days and nights. |
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The raids persisted through the spring, and by midsummer, Llythwere was on the brink of collapse. Fewer than a hundred sylvans remained, their supplies nearly gone. They could not farm, dared not forage in the dangerous woods, and faced the looming specter of a deadly winter. Desperate, the council turned to the goddess Imaera, convening a nine-day and nine-night commune to plead for salvation. |
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| ⚫ | On the morning |
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| ⚫ | Her |
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| ⚫ | Her cryptic words left the council in turmoil. They debated endlessly, searching for the meaning of her riddle, but no consensus was reached. Their indecision proved costly. Three days after the commune ended, Illiweth Siergeth passed quietly in her sleep. As the last mage of Yuriqen, her death marked the end of their hope to wield ancient magic or fortify their defenses. |
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| ⚫ | The sylvans mourned her passing with a solemn ceremony in the foothills of the Dragonspine. Her death was seen as a grim fulfillment of Imaera’s prophecy, a harbinger of the sacrifice she had foretold. The council urged the people to endure and to trust in the goddess’s promise of prosperity. But as the chill of winter crept into the forest and the cries of hungry children echoed through the settlement, doubt began to fester among the survivors. |
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===The Long Winter=== |
===The Long Winter=== |
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By the |
By the dawn of the new year, the sylvans were teetering on the brink of ruin. Their food stores had long since been depleted, forcing them to strip bark from the surrounding trees in a desperate attempt to stave off starvation. Sickness and injury swept through the settlement like an unrelenting tide, threatening to extinguish what little remained of their once-proud community. |
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The |
The few surviving members of the Ne’Yuscarl patrolled the forests daily, hunting for anything that might sustain their people. During one such mission, Gearith Tilweth was caught in the grip of a fierce blizzard. Disoriented and weak with hunger, he lost his way in the endless expanse of snow-covered woods, the howling wind drowning his calls for help. |
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The storm raged on for days, and Gearith’s strength began to wane. Just as hope seemed to slip beyond his grasp, he stumbled into a small encampment hidden deep within the forest. There, a group of people unlike any he had ever encountered greeted him with wary kindness. |
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It is unclear how long he wandered through the storm, or how long he might have endured, had he not stumbled upon a small encampment. A group of people, unlike any Gearith had ever seen, greeted him with guarded kindness. Their stature was as towering as the giantkin he had glimpsed once in Barrett’s Gorge. Both males and females were completely bald on top of their heads, though their long, pale hair cascaded down to their waists. But what was most striking were their eyes—pale and slitted, like those of predators. |
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They were striking figures, their towering stature reminiscent of the giantkin Gearith had glimpsed once in Barrett’s Gorge. Both men and women were bald at the crowns of their heads, but long, pale hair flowed down their backs like silken cascades. Their eyes, however, were what truly set them apart—pale and slitted, gleaming with a predatory sharpness. |
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Too weak to be truly afraid, Gearith accepted their hospitality and fell asleep by their fire, too exhausted to resist. He awoke only once during the night, deliriously speaking of his people and their plight, before passing out again. The next morning, he did not wake. A quiet prayer was murmured over his body, and after a lengthy discussion, the strangers decided to return his body to Llythwere, curious about the sylvans he had spoken of. |
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Too weak to feel fear, Gearith accepted their hospitality and collapsed by their fire, exhausted beyond resistance. He awoke briefly during the night, feverish and muttering incoherently about his people and their plight before succumbing once more to unconsciousness. When dawn broke, Gearith did not wake. |
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When they arrived, the sylvans were wary. It had not been long since the faendryl attacks, and the thought of outsiders was unsettling. Their desire for peace and seclusion made them less than hospitable, especially after discovering their fallen kin among the strangers. |
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The strangers, who called themselves the "erithi," murmured a solemn prayer over his lifeless form. After a lengthy deliberation, they resolved to return his body to Llythwere, their curiosity piqued by the sylvans he had spoken of in his delirium. |
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When the erithi arrived at the settlement, the sylvans met them with suspicion and fear. Memories of the Faendryl raids were still raw, and the sight of outsiders—especially ones so otherworldly—stirred unease among the survivors. The discovery of Gearith’s lifeless body only deepened their mistrust. |
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Communication proved to be a daunting barrier. The erithi spoke in a lilting, lyrical language unfamiliar to the sylvans. While they seemed to understand fragments of the sylvan tongue, they responded primarily in elven—an ancient language that few sylvans still spoke, having distanced themselves from their elven kin over the centuries. |
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Within a week, more erithi arrived in Llythwere, bearing food, medicine, and materials to help rebuild. Despite the lingering tension and the shadow of the bargain they had made, a tentative friendship began to form between the two peoples. |
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| ⚫ | Through a halting blend of broken languages, gestures, and crude drawings, the two groups eventually found a fragile understanding. The erithi offered the sylvans something unimaginable: protection, supplies to last the winter, and aid in rebuilding their shattered homes. Though the offer seemed almost too generous, the sylvans had no choice. Survival outweighed suspicion, and they reluctantly accepted. |
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Within a week, more erithi arrived at Llythwere. They came bearing food, medicine, and sturdy materials for construction. Despite the lingering tension, a tentative bond began to form between the two peoples. The sylvans, long accustomed to isolation, found themselves reliant on the erithi’s aid, their once impenetrable walls of mistrust slowly beginning to crack. |
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| ⚫ | By the time spring breathed new life into the forest, the sylvans had |
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Though the shadow of the sylvans' recent trials hung heavily over Llythwere, a faint glimmer of hope began to stir. For the first time in months, the sylvans dared to believe they might endure the winter—and perhaps even rebuild the life they had lost. |
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The erithi met with the sylvan council, and after a year spent learning one another’s language, communication between the two groups was far clearer. There was no room left for misunderstanding. In exchange for the aid they had given the sylvans, the erithi sought something of great personal importance: they needed to expand their population and experiment with their genetics. Over the centuries, their ability to produce healthy offspring had diminished, and their clan faced the threat of extinction. To that end, they required one sylvan female from each generation to conceive a child with an erithi male. |
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| ⚫ | By the time spring breathed new life into the forest, the sylvans had thrived. Their homes stretched high into the ancient trees, blending seamlessly with the verdant canopy. The once-fragile settlement had grown strong and self-sufficient, with abundant harvests lifting their spirits. The conditions of their bargain with the erithi, once a source of constant worry, had faded into the background, overshadowed by their newfound prosperity. The two races coexisted in a harmony that seemed, for a time, like a lasting peace. |
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| ⚫ | The revelation was met with shock and horror. The sylvans |
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Yet, as the seasons turned, an uneasy tension settled over Llythwere like a mist. As the anniversary of the erithi’s arrival approached, the sylvans found themselves wondering: Would their benefactors reveal the full extent of the bargain? And if so, what price would they demand for their aid? |
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The terms were written down and signed by both parties over the following days, each condition carefully outlined. The sylvan female chosen to fulfill the erithians' demand had to be between the ages of 300 and 350, considered to be her most fertile years according to erithian understanding. She would need to be in good health, to prevent the risk of transmitting any diseases to the male or child. Most crucially, she would need to be a virgin to ensure the paternity of the child, as the erithi had no interest in any uncertainties regarding the child’s lineage. |
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When the erithi returned, they met with the sylvan council. A year of shared language lessons had bridged the gap between their two cultures, leaving little room for misunderstanding. The erithi revealed the true cost of their assistance: they sought to expand their dwindling population. Over centuries, their ability to produce healthy offspring had declined, threatening their survival. To preserve their lineage, they sought to mix the two races by requiring a sylvan be tithed every fifty years. |
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The process would unfold in Llythwere itself. The chosen female and the erithi male would be housed together during conception and throughout the pregnancy. If conception did not occur over the course of a year, another sylvan female would be selected to replace her. And once a child was born, the erithi would take the child, returning it to their clan to be raised as they saw fit. The mother would never see her child again. This, of all the conditions, was the one the erithi had reluctantly agreed to amend: every tenth generation, one female child would be allowed to remain with her sylvan mother. However, when the child reached adulthood, she would be required to be tithed to the erithi. |
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| ⚫ | The revelation was met with shock and horror. The sylvans, who had come to view the erithi as benevolent allies, recoiled at this demand. It felt like a betrayal, a condition that defied the very principles of equality and respect. But honor-bound by their agreement and without any other options, the sylvans reluctantly accepted. The goodwill between the two races fractured under the weight of this grim bargain. |
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The sylvan council, torn with sorrow and horror, shared the terms with their people. Despite the heavy weight of this bargain, they saw no way around it. The council worked tirelessly to find a way to keep their bloodlines strong and pure, to lessen the burden placed upon their people. After much debate, they decided that each family would take turns offering one child every twelfth generation. How the child would be chosen was left to the discretion of each family. |
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Tensions simmered as years passed. Despite the agreement, nearly a decade went by without any children being conceived. The erithi grew frustrated, accusing the sylvans of sabotage, while the sylvans insisted they were honoring the bargain. Desperate for answers, the sylvan council sought advice from their herbalists. One elder recalled a failed attempt to cross-pollinate silver veil trees with local species; the genetic differences were too great to produce viable seeds. |
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The sylvans brought their findings to the erithi, who listened with quiet intensity. After a cryptic acknowledgment, the erithi announced they would return with a solution. Without another word, they departed, leaving the sylvans to wonder about the future of their fragile alliance.<br /> |
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===A Less than Welcome Return=== |
===A Less than Welcome Return=== |
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It took nearly a year for the erithi to return to the sylvan settlement with an answer to their problem. To the dismay and general horror of the people, they were informed that a ritual spell would be performed between the pledged male and female. Their blood would be combined within the arcane circle, and through the spell’s completion, their essences would intertwine, ensuring conception. The bond formed during the ritual would remain until the child’s birth, at which point it would be severed, and the two participants would be allowed to part. |
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At the time, very little was understood of blood magic, but it has since been revealed as the |
At the time, very little was understood of blood magic, but it has since been revealed as the foundation of the tithe ritual practiced in the tithing. Due to a deep mistrust of magic beyond the most common spheres, such as elemental or healing magic, anything more arcane—particularly blood magic—is viewed with suspicion among the sylvans of Llythwere. This distrust stems from the very origins of the tithing accord. |
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After a period of preparation, the ritual |
After a period of preparation, the ritual was conducted under the light of the second full moon of the year. Only the elders were permitted to witness the event, leaving much of its exact nature shrouded in mystery. What is known, however, is that the couple’s blood was symbolically combined in an intricate spell, forging a magical connection between them. Over the following days, the spell completed its purpose, and a child was conceived. As promised, once the child was born, the bond was dissolved. The erithi took the child to raise, and the sylvan mother was granted freedom to choose her own path, unbound by the rules of the tithing. |
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For over thirty-seven hundred years, the tithing has been upheld by the sylvans |
For over thirty-seven hundred years, the tithing ritual has been upheld by the sylvans without fail. In that time, they have flourished, building a true home for themselves. While they may never reclaim the golden age nurtured in Yuriqen, they have forged a society rooted in the traditions of their people.<br /> |
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===The Almost Uprising=== |
===The Almost Uprising=== |
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Riend’s mother, Saoirce Ar’Fiernel, was a |
Riend’s mother, Saoirce Ar’Fiernel, was a celebrated mage of Llythwere and one of the last pupils of the revered Illiweth Siergeth. With the sylvans thriving under her guidance and their numbers steadily increasing, Saoirce sought to enhance the Nanrithowan, the protective wards that shielded their settlement. Her innovations even allowed the erithi to pass through the wards unscathed, a privilege she alone had the power to revoke. When her time for tithing arrived, she considered doing just that, using her magic to sever the bond and banish the erithi from their lands. |
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Saoirce viewed the practice of tithing as barbaric and began to rally others who shared her unease. Her resolve sparked unrest within the community, and what began as quiet dissent grew into organized opposition. Many feared her rebellion would bring an end to the tithing and, with it, the prosperity the sylvans had gained through their alliance with the erithi. Without the support of their benefactors, some believed the sylvans would fall back into hardship. |
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As Saoirce’s conviction deepened, it was her grandmother who stepped forward to intervene. The elder spoke to her with measured wisdom. “The tithe is not a punishment,” she said. “It is a burden we bear with pride, for in fulfilling it, we honor our people, our ancestors, and the covenant that safeguards our future. There is no greater honor than placing the needs of others above your own.” |
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Her grandmother’s words struck a chord, planting a seed of doubt in Saoirce’s heart. That doubt slowly grew, tempering her defiance and rekindling a sense of duty. In time, she abandoned her rebellion, dedicating herself instead to instilling that same sense of purpose in her daughter.<br /> |
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===Present Day Llythwere=== |
===Present Day Llythwere=== |
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When Riend was born, her mother’s heart swelled with both joy and sorrow. As the first female born in her line in |
When Riend was born, her mother’s heart swelled with both joy and sorrow. As the first female born in her line in three generations, Saoirce was granted the rare privilege of keeping and raising her daughter. Yet, with this gift came an inescapable truth: Riend would be bound to the same fate Saoirce had endured—the tithe. With a heavy heart, Saoirce resigned herself to the inevitable path her daughter would follow, but vowed to give her a life of freedom she herself had never known. |
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Riend was raised as any sylvan child would be—taught to hunt with a bow, to hide among the trees, and to live in harmony with the forest. As she grew, her mother gave her a task: to journey westward, carrying knowledge to their people. It was both a gift and a burden. A chance to explore the world beyond the borders of Lythwere, to experience lands and cultures her people had never known. Riend embraced this rare opportunity, unaware that her travels would lead her into the very chains she sought to escape. |
Riend was raised as any sylvan child would be—taught to hunt with a bow, to hide among the trees, and to live in harmony with the forest. As she grew, her mother gave her a task: to journey westward, carrying knowledge to their people. It was both a gift and a burden. A chance to explore the world beyond the borders of Lythwere, to experience lands and cultures her people had never known. Riend embraced this rare opportunity, unaware that her travels would lead her into the very chains she sought to escape. |
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Her journey took her across |
Her journey took her across Elanitha, eventually leading her to the rugged town of Wehnimer’s Landing. There, surrounded by untamed wilderness, she fell in love with the land’s raw beauty and rustic charm. |
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With the world at her feet, Riend lived with a heart full of hope and wonder… unaware that her future had already been written, and the chains of her fate were fastened around her, unseen and unbroken. |
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=== Possession === |
=== Possession === |
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One fateful night, as Riend mingled in the heart of Wehnimer's Landing, a weak voice pierced the air, a cry for help. Desperate to find the source, Riend felt an unnatural chill settle over her as she realized the voice belonged not to a living being, but to a spirit. Before she could retreat, the entity, full of fear and desperation, surged into her, possessing her entirely. |
One fateful night, as Riend mingled in the heart of Wehnimer's Landing, a weak voice pierced the air, a cry for help. Desperate to find the source, Riend felt an unnatural chill settle over her as she realized the voice belonged not to a living being, but to a spirit. Before she could retreat, the entity, full of fear and desperation, surged into her, possessing her entirely. |
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The year that followed was a torment Riend could scarcely comprehend. As the spirit fought for control of her body, Riend’s health deteriorated. Her skin grew patchy, covered in boils, and her once-strong fortitude faded with every passing day. But what terrified her more than the failing health was the growing affection |
The year that followed was a torment Riend could scarcely comprehend. As the spirit fought for control of her body, Riend’s health deteriorated. Her skin grew patchy, covered in boils, and her once-strong fortitude faded with every passing day. But what terrified her more than the failing health was the growing affection for Grishom Stone, the very man she knew to be behind her torment. |
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Stone, pretending to be a wealthy imperial with dreams of opening a bathhouse in the Landing, revealed little of his true nature to |
Stone, pretending to be a wealthy imperial with dreams of opening a bathhouse in the Landing, revealed little of his true nature to anyone, except for Riend. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she struggled to separate the emotions she felt for him from the manipulations of Madelyne's spirit. She couldn't possibly love this man, this monster, but the connection felt undeniable. |
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As Riend's mind spiraled, she believed her end was near. The spirit’s grip on her grew stronger, and with it, she feared she would lose herself entirely, just as Madelyne had before her. But the depths of her struggle would soon lead her to a shocking revelation. |
As Riend's mind spiraled, she believed her end was near. The spirit’s grip on her grew stronger, and with it, she feared she would lose herself entirely, just as Madelyne had before her. But the depths of her struggle would soon lead her to a shocking revelation. |
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Stone claimed to have found a way to rid Riend of Madelyne’s |
Stone claimed to have found a way to rid Riend of Madelyne’s spirit, an elaborate ritual he promised would sever the bond. Desperate, Riend agreed, but the ritual was a twisted ruse. Instead of freeing her, it nearly ended her life, transferring Madelyne’s spirit into the urnon golem Stone had created. |
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It was years later after the golem was destroyed and Stone freed from the control of Althedeus that he was captured and a trial was planned. It was during his imprisonment that he and Riend reconnected. |
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Though Riend’s physical body was lost, her soul was freed from Madelyne’s grasp, and in the aftermath, the battle between Stone and the demon’s control had only just begun. Stone’s golem wreaked havoc, but in the end, he was thwarted by Riend’s remaining strength and the efforts of those who rallied to stop him. With the golem destroyed, Stone was captured—his connection to Althedeus severed after years of manipulation. |
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Imprisoned and broken, Stone made an unexpected request: to see Riend, to ask her to craft him a pair of shoes, for he had none. When she arrived to deliver them, they shared an honest |
Imprisoned and broken, Stone made an unexpected request: to see Riend, to ask her to craft him a pair of shoes, for he had none. When she arrived to deliver them, they shared an honest conversation, a rare moment of vulnerability between them. Riend tried to urge him toward a different path, away from vengeance, urging him to live a simpler life. Stone, however, refused. Yet, in a moment of stark honesty, he confessed something that surprised them both: he had grown to care for her. Riend, too, found herself torn, struggling with feelings she had once believed to be nothing more than the residue of Madelyne’s influence. |
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After his inevitable escape, Stone's presence in Riend's life remained. Letters began to arrive, posted from distant corners of Elanthia. Each one signed, “Yours, always, Grishom.” Despite the distance, the strange bond between them endured, though Riend’s heart remained uncertain, forever caught between the man who had nearly destroyed her and the feelings she couldn’t quite erase. |
After his inevitable escape, Stone's presence in Riend's life remained. Letters began to arrive, posted from distant corners of Elanthia. Each one signed, “Yours, always, Grishom.” Despite the distance, the strange bond between them endured, though Riend’s heart remained uncertain, forever caught between the man who had nearly destroyed her and the feelings she couldn’t quite erase. |
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Revision as of 11:34, 29 January 2025
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Riend Ar'Fiernel
Features
You see Riend Ar'Fiernel the Master Artisan.
She appears to be a Sylvankind.
She is tall in stature and has a lithesome, nimble build. She appears to be in the bloom of youth. She has expressive, chestnut-haloed malachite green eyes and gardenia white skin. She has fine, textured hellebore black hair cropped to fall in tousled, sheared layers reaching just below her ears. She has an oval face, a gently sloped nose and slender shoulders. Though her features are predominantly sylvan, subtleties in the shape of her face and the tilt of her eyes appear faintly erithian.
Origin
Riend’s home lies deep within the southeast forests of Elanthia, nestled between the site of the once-great sylvan stronghold of Nevishrim and the winding cliffs of Barrett’s Gorge. The settlement was first established in the year 1343, though some of the older families whisper of an even earlier encampment near Ne’Yuscarl Point, the truth of which depends on which founding family’s tale you hear.
It was the wise and honorable sylvan mage, Illiweth Siergeth, who united the sylvankind of all the D'ahranal following the closing of Yuriqen. Seeking refuge from the turmoil that followed, they first made their way to the fringes of the Southron Wastes, gathering sylvans who had fled after the battle with Myrdanian. From there, they retraced the ancient paths that had once guided their people to the Silver Veil.
The First Year
With so many in their caravan, it took nearly a decade to traverse the harsh, unyielding terrain to the dense, shadowed forests cradled at the base of the Dragonspine. Along the way, relentless conditions, constant peril, and the creeping shadow of sickness took their toll. What had once been a thriving caravan of tens of thousands dwindled to barely three thousand weary survivors.
In the early spring of 1343, the sylvans established the settlement of Llythwere—a fragile yet defiant symbol of their resilience. A people long bound to a nomadic existence finally began to root themselves, carving out a home amidst the towering, ancient trees. Plans were drawn for a modest but unmistakably sylvan haven high within the forest canopy, a tribute to their deep connection with nature. But before construction could begin, foraging patrols were dispatched to gather essential materials. None returned.
Fear seeped into the fledgling settlement like a slow poison. Whispers of abandoning Llythwere and seeking refuge in Ta’Illistim gained momentum, the prospect of enduring the elves’ overbearing presence deemed preferable to facing a mysterious and lethal unknown. The newly formed sylvan council convened, their deliberations fraught with desperation. After two tense weeks, they resolved to stay, choosing to confront the encroaching darkness rather than retreat.
But as the days stretched into weeks, an invisible menace began to plague the settlement. There was no sign of an enemy, no clues left behind—only the chilling fact that sylvans were disappearing. Men, women, and children vanished without warning, taken in the dead of night. Each morning brought fresh grief as families awoke to discover empty beds and loved ones gone. No one was safe. No one understood what hunted them.
It wasn’t until the fourth month that the truth was finally revealed: a ruthless band of rogue Faendryl had targeted Llythwere. Weak from their arduous journey, the sylvans were no match for the relentless raiders. Malnourished and poorly armed, they suffered devastating losses as the Faendryl struck again and again. By the end of the brutal assaults, fewer than five hundred sylvans remained.
The situation grew increasingly dire. The Ne’Yuscarl, their stalwart protectors, were nearly wiped out, and Illiweth Siergeth, their last great mage, was gravely ill. The once-powerful Nanrithowan wards that had shielded their people were now beyond their reach, their magic fading with no one left to sustain it. Armed with only a handful of weapons and dwindling resolve, the sylvans faced annihilation.
The raids persisted through the spring, and by midsummer, Llythwere was on the brink of collapse. Fewer than a hundred sylvans remained, their supplies nearly gone. They could not farm, dared not forage in the dangerous woods, and faced the looming specter of a deadly winter. Desperate, the council turned to the goddess Imaera, convening a nine-day and nine-night commune to plead for salvation.
On the final morning, Imaera appeared before them. Her presence was both ethereal and unnerving, her voice echoing with the weight of divine power. "Sacrifice that which you hold most dear," she intoned, "and your people will endure. Llythwere shall prosper for generations to come."
Her cryptic words left the council in turmoil. They debated endlessly, searching for the meaning of her riddle, but no consensus was reached. Their indecision proved costly. Three days after the commune ended, Illiweth Siergeth passed quietly in her sleep. As the last mage of Yuriqen, her death marked the end of their hope to wield ancient magic or fortify their defenses.
The sylvans mourned her passing with a solemn ceremony in the foothills of the Dragonspine. Her death was seen as a grim fulfillment of Imaera’s prophecy, a harbinger of the sacrifice she had foretold. The council urged the people to endure and to trust in the goddess’s promise of prosperity. But as the chill of winter crept into the forest and the cries of hungry children echoed through the settlement, doubt began to fester among the survivors.
The Long Winter
By the dawn of the new year, the sylvans were teetering on the brink of ruin. Their food stores had long since been depleted, forcing them to strip bark from the surrounding trees in a desperate attempt to stave off starvation. Sickness and injury swept through the settlement like an unrelenting tide, threatening to extinguish what little remained of their once-proud community.
The few surviving members of the Ne’Yuscarl patrolled the forests daily, hunting for anything that might sustain their people. During one such mission, Gearith Tilweth was caught in the grip of a fierce blizzard. Disoriented and weak with hunger, he lost his way in the endless expanse of snow-covered woods, the howling wind drowning his calls for help.
The storm raged on for days, and Gearith’s strength began to wane. Just as hope seemed to slip beyond his grasp, he stumbled into a small encampment hidden deep within the forest. There, a group of people unlike any he had ever encountered greeted him with wary kindness.
They were striking figures, their towering stature reminiscent of the giantkin Gearith had glimpsed once in Barrett’s Gorge. Both men and women were bald at the crowns of their heads, but long, pale hair flowed down their backs like silken cascades. Their eyes, however, were what truly set them apart—pale and slitted, gleaming with a predatory sharpness.
Too weak to feel fear, Gearith accepted their hospitality and collapsed by their fire, exhausted beyond resistance. He awoke briefly during the night, feverish and muttering incoherently about his people and their plight before succumbing once more to unconsciousness. When dawn broke, Gearith did not wake.
The strangers, who called themselves the "erithi," murmured a solemn prayer over his lifeless form. After a lengthy deliberation, they resolved to return his body to Llythwere, their curiosity piqued by the sylvans he had spoken of in his delirium.
When the erithi arrived at the settlement, the sylvans met them with suspicion and fear. Memories of the Faendryl raids were still raw, and the sight of outsiders—especially ones so otherworldly—stirred unease among the survivors. The discovery of Gearith’s lifeless body only deepened their mistrust.
Communication proved to be a daunting barrier. The erithi spoke in a lilting, lyrical language unfamiliar to the sylvans. While they seemed to understand fragments of the sylvan tongue, they responded primarily in elven—an ancient language that few sylvans still spoke, having distanced themselves from their elven kin over the centuries.
Through a halting blend of broken languages, gestures, and crude drawings, the two groups eventually found a fragile understanding. The erithi offered the sylvans something unimaginable: protection, supplies to last the winter, and aid in rebuilding their shattered homes. Though the offer seemed almost too generous, the sylvans had no choice. Survival outweighed suspicion, and they reluctantly accepted.
Within a week, more erithi arrived at Llythwere. They came bearing food, medicine, and sturdy materials for construction. Despite the lingering tension, a tentative bond began to form between the two peoples. The sylvans, long accustomed to isolation, found themselves reliant on the erithi’s aid, their once impenetrable walls of mistrust slowly beginning to crack.
Though the shadow of the sylvans' recent trials hung heavily over Llythwere, a faint glimmer of hope began to stir. For the first time in months, the sylvans dared to believe they might endure the winter—and perhaps even rebuild the life they had lost.
At Great Cost
By the time spring breathed new life into the forest, the sylvans had thrived. Their homes stretched high into the ancient trees, blending seamlessly with the verdant canopy. The once-fragile settlement had grown strong and self-sufficient, with abundant harvests lifting their spirits. The conditions of their bargain with the erithi, once a source of constant worry, had faded into the background, overshadowed by their newfound prosperity. The two races coexisted in a harmony that seemed, for a time, like a lasting peace.
Yet, as the seasons turned, an uneasy tension settled over Llythwere like a mist. As the anniversary of the erithi’s arrival approached, the sylvans found themselves wondering: Would their benefactors reveal the full extent of the bargain? And if so, what price would they demand for their aid?
When the erithi returned, they met with the sylvan council. A year of shared language lessons had bridged the gap between their two cultures, leaving little room for misunderstanding. The erithi revealed the true cost of their assistance: they sought to expand their dwindling population. Over centuries, their ability to produce healthy offspring had declined, threatening their survival. To preserve their lineage, they sought to mix the two races by requiring a sylvan be tithed every fifty years.
The revelation was met with shock and horror. The sylvans, who had come to view the erithi as benevolent allies, recoiled at this demand. It felt like a betrayal, a condition that defied the very principles of equality and respect. But honor-bound by their agreement and without any other options, the sylvans reluctantly accepted. The goodwill between the two races fractured under the weight of this grim bargain.
Tensions simmered as years passed. Despite the agreement, nearly a decade went by without any children being conceived. The erithi grew frustrated, accusing the sylvans of sabotage, while the sylvans insisted they were honoring the bargain. Desperate for answers, the sylvan council sought advice from their herbalists. One elder recalled a failed attempt to cross-pollinate silver veil trees with local species; the genetic differences were too great to produce viable seeds.
The sylvans brought their findings to the erithi, who listened with quiet intensity. After a cryptic acknowledgment, the erithi announced they would return with a solution. Without another word, they departed, leaving the sylvans to wonder about the future of their fragile alliance.
A Less than Welcome Return
It took nearly a year for the erithi to return to the sylvan settlement with an answer to their problem. To the dismay and general horror of the people, they were informed that a ritual spell would be performed between the pledged male and female. Their blood would be combined within the arcane circle, and through the spell’s completion, their essences would intertwine, ensuring conception. The bond formed during the ritual would remain until the child’s birth, at which point it would be severed, and the two participants would be allowed to part.
At the time, very little was understood of blood magic, but it has since been revealed as the foundation of the tithe ritual practiced in the tithing. Due to a deep mistrust of magic beyond the most common spheres, such as elemental or healing magic, anything more arcane—particularly blood magic—is viewed with suspicion among the sylvans of Llythwere. This distrust stems from the very origins of the tithing accord.
After a period of preparation, the ritual was conducted under the light of the second full moon of the year. Only the elders were permitted to witness the event, leaving much of its exact nature shrouded in mystery. What is known, however, is that the couple’s blood was symbolically combined in an intricate spell, forging a magical connection between them. Over the following days, the spell completed its purpose, and a child was conceived. As promised, once the child was born, the bond was dissolved. The erithi took the child to raise, and the sylvan mother was granted freedom to choose her own path, unbound by the rules of the tithing.
For over thirty-seven hundred years, the tithing ritual has been upheld by the sylvans without fail. In that time, they have flourished, building a true home for themselves. While they may never reclaim the golden age nurtured in Yuriqen, they have forged a society rooted in the traditions of their people.
The Almost Uprising
Riend’s mother, Saoirce Ar’Fiernel, was a celebrated mage of Llythwere and one of the last pupils of the revered Illiweth Siergeth. With the sylvans thriving under her guidance and their numbers steadily increasing, Saoirce sought to enhance the Nanrithowan, the protective wards that shielded their settlement. Her innovations even allowed the erithi to pass through the wards unscathed, a privilege she alone had the power to revoke. When her time for tithing arrived, she considered doing just that, using her magic to sever the bond and banish the erithi from their lands.
Saoirce viewed the practice of tithing as barbaric and began to rally others who shared her unease. Her resolve sparked unrest within the community, and what began as quiet dissent grew into organized opposition. Many feared her rebellion would bring an end to the tithing and, with it, the prosperity the sylvans had gained through their alliance with the erithi. Without the support of their benefactors, some believed the sylvans would fall back into hardship.
As Saoirce’s conviction deepened, it was her grandmother who stepped forward to intervene. The elder spoke to her with measured wisdom. “The tithe is not a punishment,” she said. “It is a burden we bear with pride, for in fulfilling it, we honor our people, our ancestors, and the covenant that safeguards our future. There is no greater honor than placing the needs of others above your own.”
Her grandmother’s words struck a chord, planting a seed of doubt in Saoirce’s heart. That doubt slowly grew, tempering her defiance and rekindling a sense of duty. In time, she abandoned her rebellion, dedicating herself instead to instilling that same sense of purpose in her daughter.
Present Day Llythwere
When Riend was born, her mother’s heart swelled with both joy and sorrow. As the first female born in her line in three generations, Saoirce was granted the rare privilege of keeping and raising her daughter. Yet, with this gift came an inescapable truth: Riend would be bound to the same fate Saoirce had endured—the tithe. With a heavy heart, Saoirce resigned herself to the inevitable path her daughter would follow, but vowed to give her a life of freedom she herself had never known.
Riend was raised as any sylvan child would be—taught to hunt with a bow, to hide among the trees, and to live in harmony with the forest. As she grew, her mother gave her a task: to journey westward, carrying knowledge to their people. It was both a gift and a burden. A chance to explore the world beyond the borders of Lythwere, to experience lands and cultures her people had never known. Riend embraced this rare opportunity, unaware that her travels would lead her into the very chains she sought to escape.
Her journey took her across Elanitha, eventually leading her to the rugged town of Wehnimer’s Landing. There, surrounded by untamed wilderness, she fell in love with the land’s raw beauty and rustic charm.
Possession
During the early years of the 5110s, Riend found herself caught in the midst of a plot so vile it threatened to unravel the world she had come to love. Grishom Stone, a rogue blood mage consumed by vengeance, sought to create an urnon golem that would allow the demon Althedeus to rise again and wreak havoc across the lands. To power the ritual, Stone needed 100 souls, and in a twisted act of retribution for the betrayal of his lover, Madelyne, he hunted down women who shared her features.
One fateful night, as Riend mingled in the heart of Wehnimer's Landing, a weak voice pierced the air, a cry for help. Desperate to find the source, Riend felt an unnatural chill settle over her as she realized the voice belonged not to a living being, but to a spirit. Before she could retreat, the entity, full of fear and desperation, surged into her, possessing her entirely.
The year that followed was a torment Riend could scarcely comprehend. As the spirit fought for control of her body, Riend’s health deteriorated. Her skin grew patchy, covered in boils, and her once-strong fortitude faded with every passing day. But what terrified her more than the failing health was the growing affection for Grishom Stone, the very man she knew to be behind her torment.
Stone, pretending to be a wealthy imperial with dreams of opening a bathhouse in the Landing, revealed little of his true nature to anyone, except for Riend. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she struggled to separate the emotions she felt for him from the manipulations of Madelyne's spirit. She couldn't possibly love this man, this monster, but the connection felt undeniable.
As Riend's mind spiraled, she believed her end was near. The spirit’s grip on her grew stronger, and with it, she feared she would lose herself entirely, just as Madelyne had before her. But the depths of her struggle would soon lead her to a shocking revelation.
Stone claimed to have found a way to rid Riend of Madelyne’s spirit, an elaborate ritual he promised would sever the bond. Desperate, Riend agreed, but the ritual was a twisted ruse. Instead of freeing her, it nearly ended her life, transferring Madelyne’s spirit into the urnon golem Stone had created.
It was years later after the golem was destroyed and Stone freed from the control of Althedeus that he was captured and a trial was planned. It was during his imprisonment that he and Riend reconnected.
Imprisoned and broken, Stone made an unexpected request: to see Riend, to ask her to craft him a pair of shoes, for he had none. When she arrived to deliver them, they shared an honest conversation, a rare moment of vulnerability between them. Riend tried to urge him toward a different path, away from vengeance, urging him to live a simpler life. Stone, however, refused. Yet, in a moment of stark honesty, he confessed something that surprised them both: he had grown to care for her. Riend, too, found herself torn, struggling with feelings she had once believed to be nothing more than the residue of Madelyne’s influence.
After his inevitable escape, Stone's presence in Riend's life remained. Letters began to arrive, posted from distant corners of Elanthia. Each one signed, “Yours, always, Grishom.” Despite the distance, the strange bond between them endured, though Riend’s heart remained uncertain, forever caught between the man who had nearly destroyed her and the feelings she couldn’t quite erase.
Affiliations
Master of the Rogue Guild
Master of Voln
Member of Rone Academy
Officer of the Landing Defense Irregulars
Member of Moonshine Manor
Member of Elanthian Elegance
Artisan Skills
Master Cobbler
Master Fletcher
Master Painter