Seosiris (prime)
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Appearance
Flames dance around Seosiris wreathing him in a torrent of violent energy. You see Seosiris Dardanus Faendryl the Archwizard. He appears to be a Dark Elf. He is tall and striking, with piercing crystal green eyes that seem to catch and hold every flicker of light. His skin is the smooth, deep hue common among the Faendryl, a testament to his ancient lineage. His hair, a mane of long, shiny platinum strands, flows down his back like moonlight cascading over onyx stone. His ears, sharply pointed and adorned with faint rune-etched cuffs, mark him unmistakably as one of the Faendryl. He has a soaring black dragon tattoo on his neck.
Background
Seosiris was born into the Dardanus bloodline, a lesser but fiercely ambitious house within the darkly majestic halls of New Ta'Faendryl. His mother, Yzareia, is a skilled linguist and scribe for the Basilica of Arcane Power. His father, Aravae Dardanus, serves as an artificer, known for crafting warding runes and protective talismans for the Faendryl.
As the youngest of three, Seosiris grew up overshadowed by his elder siblings: an older brother who commands a Warlock cabal, and a sister who serves on the city’s Council of Shadows as an advisor on planar incursions. From an early age, Seosiris showed a raw affinity for elemental forces, bending flame and air with little more than whispered incantations, not the demon sorcery of his siblings.
Formative Years
When he was just past his coming-of-age, Seosiris found a fragment of a summoning rite hidden among his mother’s translation scrolls. Even though not adept in summoning, he attempted, in secret, to piece it together, believing he could call and bind an ancient entity to serve him — to prove his worth and lift his house from obscurity.
What he called, however, was no mindless demon. It was something older, cunning, and eager to bargain. The rite failed, the circle cracked, and Seosiris’ mind was seared by visions of impossible geometries and void-born whispers. When his sight cleared, the entity’s price for leaving his body and mind intact was a cruel gift, an cloak fused to him by threads of a dark plane where nightmares are born.
The cloak, known as a rapture cloak is no ordinary artifact — it is a sentient shroud of darkness that feeds on his life force and magical potential, sometimes drifting open to reveal red shadowy eyes that watch the world for him. It absorbs all light that approaches and whispers in forgotten tongues, promising to one day open the rift fully if he grows complacent.
After coming around, he was in a different location and was discovered raving and half-mad, Seosiris was spared public execution only through his siblings’ desperate intercession. His house exiled him, branding him a walking risk and an embarrassment. He left New Ta'Faendryl with the cursed cloak wrapped about his shoulders, a pact-mark etched at the base of his neck where the cloak melds with his flesh.
Presently
Seosiris wanders the human lands now at night, drifting between the damp alleyways of Wehnimer’s Landing and the sunlit squares of Solhaven. Some see a brilliant if unstable wizard, selling wards and elemental invocations for coin. Others whisper of the cloak that flutters and sighs when no wind blows — the shroud that feasts on its wearer’s soul.
Despite its curse, the rapture cloak gives him waking nightmares: fragments of lost summoning rites, forbidden elemental spells, and the haunting promise that if he can master its hunger, he might open a door to his redemption.
He searches for tomes, relics, and secrets that might break the curse or bend the cloak to his will. In taverns, he trades spells for rumors of lost libraries and ancient spells.