#eldrin

[alexxel]

@vivizn

Wei Wuxian: Listen, I know that, from the outside, it looks like I have everything together.

Wen Qing: No, not really.

[santaeofficial]

The Conclave's Assistance, Glimmer Displays New & Refreshed Toys, and Final Hours of Santae Kickstarter!

Adventurers, exciting news has arrived from the Arcane Conclave! Eldrin has sent word to the Conclave about the recent discovery of Twilight Crystals in the Azure Abyss, and they've responded swiftly. Recognizing the potential these crystals hold, the Conclave has sent new supplies to Naveen at Shadow Alchemy to aid all who seek to unlock the full potential of these powerful, yet mysterious Crystals.

Starting today, you can find Mortar and Pestles and Empty Shimmer Dust Jars at Shadow Alchemy! There's more to these Crystals than meets the eye-who knows what mysterious discoveries you might uncover. The Conclave has faith in your abilities to reveal the true power Hidden within! 

( Read the full news post here! )

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 29 @ailesswhumptober - Prompt: branding.

Once they reach maturity all conscripts receive a brand, a symbolic marking of both their ownership and purpose.

CW: magical violence, branding, implied fantasy racism, themes of servitude, pain, distress.

AIless whumptober list

Echoes of a forgotten war

Eldrin master list

Eldrin stood in the dimly lit chamber, the heavy scent of ancient stone and the faint trace of magic lingering in the air. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum echoing the dread pooling in his stomach. He traced the intricate patterns of the cool stone beneath his bare feet, his mind a whirlwind of anticipation and fear. This room was unfamiliar yet oddly comforting; it was like so many other spaces he had encountered in his life—a place steeped in expectation, a place where decisions were made for him.

He had spent his entire existence as a conscript, a mere shadow flitting through the grand estate of his master. Day after day, he had honed his skills, learning to wield weapons, mastering agility, and conditioning his body for a purpose that had always felt just out of reach. The other conscripts—some older, some younger—had shared hushed, anxious stories about the day of branding. They had spoken of the moment when they would be imbued with their “purpose,” when their identities would be forever altered.

But today it was his turn.

“Eldrin,” a voice called, breaking through his thoughts. It was a stern figure clad in dark robes, his face obscured by a hood. The mage his master had summoned for the occasion. The master wouldn't sully his hands with such a menial act as branding.

“Today, you will receive your brand,” the figure announced, his voice cold. “You will become a weapon for your master. Do you understand?”

Eldrin swallowed hard, nodding. His entire life had led to this moment—his purpose carved out by the hands of others, shaped by their desires. A living weapon, an instrument of destruction; that was what the brand would signify.

The figure motioned for Eldrin to kneel, and he obeyed, the cold stone pressing into his skin as he lowered himself. Beside him, on a heavy wooden table, lay the heated brand, coiled in arcane light, its form twisting and shifting like a serpent poised to strike. The sight sent shivers coursing down his spine, a visceral reminder of the pain that awaited him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the reality of what was about to happen. The brand would hurt; he understood that well. Magical fire was still fire, and with his affinity for ice, the threat of searing heat felt all the more terrifying.

“Focus, Eldrin,” the hooded man commanded, his tone harsh and unforgiving. “This is your destiny.”

Eldrin opened his eyes, staring at the brand. It pulsed with an ethereal light, its form shifting as if it were alive, anticipating the moment it would meet his skin. The heat radiated from it, beckoning and threatening all at once. He could just about make out it;s shape - sharp, angular - indicating his intended purpose. A weapon.

The mage leaned closer, his presence oppressive and foreboding. “Do not resist,” he warned, his eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction. “You will be proud to serve your master,” he intoned, as if reciting a sacred mantra. “You will honor your brand.”

Without warning, the brand pressed against his skin, and the world exploded in flames. Pain seared through him, hot and blinding, radiating from the point of contact and consuming him whole. It was as if his flesh were being torn apart, a visceral punishment that obliterated every thought in his mind. He felt a scream clawing its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down, refusing to give the mage the satisfaction of seeing his pain.

The heat felt like a living entity, invading his senses. His own magic flared, a desperate surge of frost radiating from his skin, but it was like throwing water onto a raging fire—the heat consuming the ice, causing it to fizzle out as soon as it formed. The heat sunk deeper, a vicious invasion that melded with his very essence. It felt as if a part of him were being erased, a piece of his soul crumbling away under the weight of the branding. He gritted his teeth, determined to remain silent, to push through the agony, but the effort only intensified the fire.

“Endure,” the mage hissed, leaning closer, his breath chilling against Eldrin's sweat-drenched skin. “This is your rebirth, a necessary sacrifice for your future. Accept it.”

His body betrayed him, twitching as waves of agony coursed through him. The fire was relentless, a torturous pulse that throbbed through his nerves. Time lost its meaning; moments felt like lifetimes as the branding continued, and he struggled against the rising tide of desperation. He forced himself to focus on the stone beneath him, the cool surface grounding him against the hellfire engulfing his arm.

Eldrin’s breath quickened, the bitter taste of ice mixed with the acrid burn of fire flooding his senses. As he fought against the pain, he could feel his magic retreating, sensing the futility of its defense. It was a betrayal, the cold he'd always relied on being smothered, evaporated, destroyed.

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the branding stopped. The pain receded, leaving only a lingering throb in its wake. Eldrin gasped, the sound raspy and broken as he fought to reclaim his breath.

“Open your eyes, Eldrin,” the mage commanded, and despite the haze of pain, he obeyed. The room seemed brighter, the shadows deeper.

Eldrin’s eyes struggled to focus, the world swimming around him as if caught in a fog of agony. But as the haze began to lift, he felt the heat of the brand settle into his skin—a foreign presence now etched into his flesh.

His skin instinctively developed a glistening coating of ice—a desperate and futile attempt by his body to protect itself. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the brand for the first time—a sharp, angular design that spiraled down his arm like a serpent. It was beautiful in its cruelty, a mark of ownership that fused him with the very essence of violence. The marking glowed faintly, a harsh red with the occasional flicker of blue.

“Do you see?” the mage continued, his tone now a mix of pride and condescension. “You are no longer merely Eldrin. You are a weapon, forged by magic and destiny. This brand is your identity."

The mage’s words twisted in his mind, each syllable deepening the reality of his new existence. He was no longer just a name, a shadow, or a conscript. He was a weapon—crafted for violence, destined to serve.

[powernappin]

oh, huh, what's that? it's my fav headcanon npc romance for our 4+ year d&d campaign...?

[tearofisha]

Got tagged by @gingerfan24 to do an oc vs mun piccrew thing so here goes:

Thanks for the tag! I'm no expert at piccrew stuff but I did my best,

Your turn @wayward40k @emyliabernstein

[ludrii]

Happy New Year from Oracle!!!

[aveisure]

Rimidalv ❤️ 🔪 👁️

[vivizn]

@alexxel

[santaeofficial]

The Quest For The Orbs Continues

The sun filtering through the leaves of the Harmonic Heartwood's canopy dappled the page of the letter in Vespera's hands with speckles of light. It was a note sent from Orion up in Halo Haven -- and it let her know that three more pillars at Ascendants Shrine had begun to glow!

"Perfect timing," Vespera said to River, who was peering down at the letter from Vespera's shoulder. "Now we have a couple more places to check before we return to Halo Haven! Ready for some more adventure?"

River flapped her wings and let out an enthusiastic chirp. It was time to hit the road!

The duo's first stop was the Azure Abyss. Everything seemed quiet along the luminous shore. River flapped over head, riding a gentle breeze that cooled the air as she watched the Abyssal Monster splash and frolic with some Adventurers' pets in the crystalline waters of the Abyssal Lake below.

Eldrin saw Vespera before she noticed him. "Vespera!" The Seeker of Knowledge called out. There was an uncharacteristic note of excitement in the wise elf's usually-calm voice.

"Hello," Vespera greeted Eldrin as she approached the edge of the Lake. "What's going on here?"

"It's the Monster," Eldrin pointed toward the leaping serpent in the Lake. Vespera looked over, puzzled. Nothing looked wrong with the Monster or the Lake to her.

"What about it?" She asked, puzzled. "I was wondering if something had changed recently, since Scholar Orion wrote that even more pillars had started glowing up at Ascendants Shrine. One of the markings he described made me think there would be something to be found here, at the Abyss."

"Excellent," Eldrin sounded deeply intrigued. "I think you're exactly right. The magic at the shrine -- that must be related to this." He reached into one of his robe's deep pockets and withdrew a shining Orb.

"Yes!" Vespera cried. "Where did you get that? That must be one of the Quenaris Orbs!"

"It was given to me by the Abyssal Monster," Eldrin explained. "Ever since the discovery of the Twilight Ore we have known there are many mysterious treasures beneath the Lake's surface -- but I have never seen anything like this before. If you are seeking artifacts of this nature, you should take it with you."

"Thank you," Vespera said as she carefully took the Orb from Eldrin and stowed it in her pack. "We're getting closer to solving this mystery -- I just know it!"

Vespera and River's next stop was closer to home. They crossed the river southwest of Azure Abyss and took the narrow valley road back into Shadow Veil Pass. As they moved deeper into the mountains, the craggy stone around them began to light up with the deep scarlet glow imbued by the Nether Moon overhead. Vespera wanted to check in on her Shop, and see how the Ancient Echoes Festival was proceeding, since they were near the area anyway.

As Vespera strolled the familiar streets of Shadow Veil Pass, a low voice caught her attention. "Vespera," the voice called. "Do you have a moment to speak?"

Invoker Imara beckoned with a white-gloved hand, inviting Vespera closer.

"Imara," Vespera greeted the mysterious artifact collector. "Always a pleasure. What can I do for you?"

The ghost of a smile was visible in the shadow of Imara's wide-brimmed hat. "I believe it is I who can do something for you. Are you not seeking certain objects of magical power?" Vespera leaned closer to look as Imara withdrew a smooth white orb from a pouch for her inspection. The orb was clearly magical: Wreathed in wisps of cloud, with a surface that glimmered with subtle prismatic reflections.

"You know I have my ways of getting my hands on unconventional artifacts. But this one holds no purpose for my own invocations." Imara held it out for Vespera to take. "Something tells me you know where this belongs."

Vespera took in Imara's knowing smile, wondering as always how the mysterious Invoker held such a depth of magical insight. "You're right," Vespera replied, "and I thank you. River and I will return this to Ascendants Shrine as soon as we can!"

Thrilled with their discoveries, Vespera and River set off for Halo Haven. Draconic magic swirled around River once again, empowering her to carry Vespera back up into the skies and return to the Shine with the Orbs they had collected so far.

As they approached Halo Haven, the flock of dragon Minimals filling the skies around the floating islands swirled around them. The swarm of smaller dragons soared and dived seemingly at random, sometimes coming perilously close to River's wings as she flew.

One swift-flying Velofang swooped directly toward Vespera on River's back -- it seemed like it was about to crash! Vespera threw up an arm to protect her face, but the small pink dragon flared its wings to check its flight right in the nick of time. It hovered above River's back for a second, seeming to peer closely at Vespera's face, then dropped something from its claw and flew away.

Vespera caught the item the Velofang had dropped on pure instinct, but when she saw what it was, she gasped. The way it caught the light made it almost look like a luminous dragon's eye. It was another Quenaris Orb -- and the Minimal had dropped it for her seemingly at random!

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 30 @ailesswhumptober - Prompt: delirious.

After his hired mercenary collapses Markus takes him to Oakswood. continued from Whumptober day 29 - Burnout

CW: illness, fever, delirium, implied slavery, references to past trauma, themes of servitude, pain, distress.

AIless whumptober list

Echoes of a forgotten war

Eldrin master list

It had been a quiet day in Oakwood, the bitter cold keeping most of the townsfolk huddled inside the warm inns and taverns. The last thing Arfam had expected was for Markus to stagger into the guild, a delirious and barely conscious mercenary slung over his shoulder. It was not unusual for sick or injured sellswords and adventurers to turn up at the guild, nor was it out of character for Markus to bring them in. The merchant had an irritating habit of hiring escorts too green for the multi-day journeys between towns.

But it had quickly become apparent that this was not your average injury.

Arfam shook his head, quickly shifting his focus back to the task at hand, applying cool cloths to the mercenary’s fevered skin as the elf muttered and twisted seemingly entirely unaware of his surroundings. “We need to keep 'im calm,” he said, his voice steady despite the growing concern in his gut.

“Calm?” Markus echoed incredulously, his eyes wide. “He’s delirious, Arfam!”

The dwarf sighed; Markus wasn’t wrong, but there was little they could do. Neither of them were healers, and neither had much expertise in elven physiology. Arfam’s mind drifted back, memories rising like mist from a distant past. He remembered the free elves from his youth— their laughter ringing like music, their eyes bright and full of life. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago. In truth, he hadn’t seen an elf in at least thirty years—probably before this poor lad had even been born.

Since arriving in the human cities, places where no free eld would dare tread, the only elves Arfam had encountered were conscripts—broken shadows of the beings he once admired. They wore the same pointed ears and delicate features of the free elves his hometown had traded with, but their air of desperation and fear made his heart ache. The sight of them had haunted him. He’d learned quickly to avoid them. It was easier that way, but it never sat right with him.

The elf’s breaths were shallow, his skin glistening with sweat as he mumbled incoherently. “Master… I… I can do better,” he murmured, a web of frost beginning to spread from his hands over the stone floor beneath him.

Arfam exchanged a worried glance with Markus, "what you say his name was?"

“Eldrin,” Markus replied, his voice tense, "picked him up in Westport for days ago… I… I thought he was human."

Arfam nodded. “Eldrin,” he called softly, hoping to pull the mercenary back from the edge of his fevered mind. “Can you hear me?”

Eldrin’s eyes flickered open, but the once-vibrant blue-grey was now clouded by a dull silver, he gasped, each breath shaky. “Master… please…” The words slurred, tumbling from his lips. “Need to…”

Markus knelt beside them, his hands wringing nervously. “What's happening to him?"

“Affinity burnout… It’s like a sickness,” Arfam explained as he rewet the cloth, pressing it to the elf’s brow. “Causes fever, delirium… Elf affinities aren’t just magic—they’re like… a part of them. Reacts to emotions." He shot Markus a dry half-smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Bet they don’t teach you human-folk this stuff, do they?”

“So… he’s suffering because he pushed too hard?" the merchanat asked slowly, trying to make sense of the situation, "That’s…”

“Common for conscripts.” Arfam’s words cut in sharply, his voice low but steady. “Conditioned to push past their limits. But you—” he gave Markus a look that was almost pitying, “you went and picked up a fugitive without knowing it, didn’t you?”

"I… I thought he was just a sellsword…" Markus stammered, "A bit jumpy ye, but untill he practically summoned a blizzard he seemed… Normal."

Arfam's brow furrowed as he focused on the elf, wiping the sweat from Eldrin's brow while carefully avoiding the ice that threatened to creep up his arms. "'Normal'" The dwarf echoed glancing back at the merchant, his voice low but firm. "You need to understand what you’re dealing with 'ere. This elf… he’s not just a mercenary. He’s been trained as a weapon. Whoever his 'owner' is, they'll be looking for 'im. The nobels don't take kindly to their 'property' escaping."

Markus swallowed hard, the implications of Arfam’s words sinking in like a stone in his gut. “What do we do?”

Arfam’s eyes narrowed as he considered their options. “First, we get 'im stable. Once he’s coherent, we can figure out the rest,” he replied, his tone authoritative.

“Eldrin,” Arfam called again, leaning closer. “Can you hear me?”

"Eldrin’s eyes fluttered, his focus drifting from Arfam to the empty air, as if he were straining to see someone only he could sense. 'Master… I… I won’t fail,' he muttered, the words torn from him in a hoarse, broken whisper.

Arfam pressed a cool cloth against Eldrin’s feverish brow, meeting the dull, haunted glint in the elf’s eyes. “Focus on me, lad. Not 'im. You’re safe here.”

A beat passed, the tension thickening as Eldrin's body tensed momentarily. Finally, Eldrin’s gaze caught on Arfam’s face for a fleeting moment. "Too warm…" he murmured, his voice softer, as the frost crept up his arm once more.

The dwarf sighed as he re-dampened the cloth on Elrins forehead, "I know kid. We're got ya'."

[powernappin]

fellas, is it gay to only agree to go on a rescue mission to hell because your crush will bridal carry you over the sea of tormented souls?

[vivizn]

@alexxel

"she killed innocent people" ok well her eyes are literally big and brown and sad so she can do whatever

[tearofisha]

Homecoming. (1/3)

Sheepishly and one arm lighter than before, Rishaeron stumbled through the Webway Gate and onto the back of venerable Ulthwé again. His first days were spent in the halls of the healers who spent their time hydrating, resting, and worrying over Rishaeron as they tried and failed to regrow his arm. He knew it would not come back. It was taken by the dead world as payment for the Shamans life, and Rishaeron believed it to be a fair trade, all things considered.

His next stop, he took the ageing Spiritseer for a dinner, and together, they exchanged stories and memories, as well as commiserations about one another's health. Stories of Shana and Aeril, how the ladies had enjoyed their gifts the Spiritseer had sent. Eldrin asked how Aelinor fared and appeared proud when Rishaeron relayed some anecdotes of their adventures together before the Spiritseer eventually became serious.

"What will you do now?" Eldrin nodded at the stump Rishaeron attempted to hide under carefully arranged robes.

"Well, the healers can do very little about it, I'm afraid. Even with all the practice you've given them over the years." Eldrin's scoff turned into a chuckle at the friendly jab. "They believe that the psychic feedback of a planets death has...marred me somehow. Made me resistant to the boons of the warp."

Eldrin tutted, leaning forward with a creak that was either his chair or his joints. Rishaeron could not tell.

"Resistant or not, you are still Asuryani. Perhaps a Wraithbone prosthetic could function and continue the good work you do as Ulthwés eyes and ears."

The Ranger's eyebrows rose in consideration. Only years ago he brought Durk Dammin to his Craftworld in search of a similar solution. But he was a metal man and not the most skilled assassin this side of the Cicatrix Maledictum. Still, he pondered if it might just work.

"Would you know where I might find Bonesinger Asurvar these days? Rishaeron asked, a glimmer of hope adding a rise of optimism to his voice.

"Far away, he had an idea not dissimilar to yours. Found himself a Maiden World and crafted himself an establishment that caters to all travelers, so long as they pay in stories or trade."

Rishaeron chuckled, and the more he thought about it, the more he laughed. Somehow, he'd always known Asurvar would end up as a barkeep.

"Then perhaps a rendezvous with an old friend is required." Rishaeron rose, offering his hand for Eldrin to shake. "It was good to see you, friend. But there is business to be conducted."

The Rangers visits were never long, and the energy that suddenly possessed Rishaeron meant this visit would be even shorter than usual. Eldrin shook his hand, if a little awkwardly.

"Until next time, dear Ranger. Good luck to you on your travels again."

With that, Rishaeron was on his Shroudrunner in search of a friend that could help him become whole once again.

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 7 @whumptober - prompt: magic with a cost

Eldrin has a natural affinity to ice. Cold and frost reacts to him, in tune with his emotions. But it is not enough power to please his master.

CW: magical violence, branding, fantasy racism, themes of servitude, slavery, magical whump, exhaustion, pain, distress.

whumptober list

Echoes of a forgotten war

Eldrin master list

Eldrin knelt, hands pressed into the cold stone, fingertips raw from the endless attempts, his breathing weak, ragged gasps. Every exhale brought the faintest trace of frost, spreading outwards in a thin, shimmering layer over his skin. But it flickered, melting and vanishing almost as soon as he formed it, as if rejecting his call.

His instructor was watching—unimpressed.

“Again,” she commanded, her voice flat and merciless. “That is barely a frost.”

Eldrin’s shoulders slumped, vision blurring as a heavy wave of dizziness washed over him, tilting the floor beneath his knees. It hurt. Every cell screamed against the effort. He could feel his magic clawing its way up, desperate to manifest, but his body was failing. His strength all but gone.

“Pitiful,” the mage sneered, voice cutting through his haze like ice. “You’re weak, Eldrin. Even for an elf.”

He barely registered her movements as she reached into the folds of her cloak, pulling out a vial filled with thick, shimmering blue liquid.

Artificial mana.

Eldrin’s breath caught, dread coiling deep in his gut. His gaze latched onto the vial, memories rushing back of what that liquid would do to him.

“No…” ” His voice was barely a whisper, a tremor of raw fear beneath it. “Please…not that. I’ll try again, I promise.”

But she was unmoved, tapping the vial against her palm with a look of growing impatience. “Then prove you can do this without it,” she commanded, tapping her boot against the floor with a sharp click.

Normally, it was gentle—a chill he could coax to the surface, like snowflakes melting on his skin, the kind of frost that wrapped around him like an old friend. But now… it barely responded, a spark dimming by the second. Frost crept along his fingers, spreading out in jagged, broken patterns across the floor, tiny ice crystals shimmering around him like fragile fragments of glass. The air cooled, and a faint shimmer of frost hung around him.

But it was not enough - it was never enough.

An elves affinity was not meant to be a weapon, not meant to be used like this - it was an extension of the self, a connection to the world, powered by the body, soul, emotions. Without a natural mana pool to sustain him, every bit of magic came directly from his body, bleeding his strength dry. Even small acts of summoning cost him, and he could feel his abilities thinning, shrinking from his call like a wounded animal retreating to the depths of his soul. His body was never meant for the power his master demanded.

The liquid in the vial sloshed as the mage tipped it slightly, letting the thick, blue fluid catch the light. Eldrin’s stomach churned, bile rising as memories of the mana’s effects surfaced—burning through his veins like acid, twisting his mind until he couldn’t tell where he ended and the magic began, drowning him in ice so intense it felt like his soul was splitting.

His breaths came quicker, shallower, panic clawing up his throat as he pressed his hands to the icy stone, nails scratching against it as he tried to brace himself, willing his magic to respond just one more time. But the magic was barely a flicker, a sputtering ember in the cold, and he could no longer feel its familiar touch. Only exhaustion. Nmbness. Weighing his limbs down, making his skin feel too tight.

"Pathetic." The mage’s voice note of boredom, her cold eyes narrowing as she regarded him. “If you were truly one with your element, this would be trivial."

With a sharp tug, she unstoppered the vial, and the bitter, metallic scent of artificial mana filled the air.

“No…” He gasped, the plea breaking out of him before he could stop it, hands curling as his body trembled. He tried to push himself back, muscles straining, rebelling against him, but he couldn’t move. She reached out, fingers clamping around his chin, forcing his head back, her grip as unyielding as iron.

“Don’t make this harder,” she said, voice as icy as the mana within the vial. “If you can’t summon it yourself, then you’ll take this, and you’ll learn control.”

He turned his head as much as he could, desperation flaring in a final act of resistance. But her grip tightened, bruising his skin. “Open,” she ordered.

He clenched his teeth, his body rigid with defiance, but his strength was gone, and his vision swam, fading at the edges. With a brutal twist of her fingers, she pried his jaw open.

The liquid poured over his tongue, thick and metallic, like the blood of something unnatural. It slithered down his throat, an icy chill that was colder than anything he had ever summoned, spreading through his veins with an invasive force, pushing his own magic aside, claiming him.

The mana took hold, flooding his senses. An unnatural surge of power blazed within him.

Too strong.

Too powerful.

Agony ripped through him as the frost returned, but it wasn’t his—it was sharp, jagged, beyond his control. Ice exploded from him, spiraling across the chamber, tearing into the walls in chaotic, uncontrolled spikes. His breaths turned to gasps as he tried to force it back, but the magic raged, unyielding, twisting through his veins like frozen knives, tearing into his muscles and sinews.

This wasn’t his frost. His had always been gentle, malleable, responding to his touch like something living, something that listened. But now it surged with a wild, feral energy, alien and merciless, tearing through him, unstoppable.

He fought to bring it back, to tame it, but the magic defied him, spiraling beyond his reach, clawing at his chest, constricting his lungs until every breath was a fight against his own element. The blue of his veins darkened, shadows twisting beneath his skin as frost crawled further, binding his arms, climbing up his neck, tighter and tighter until he could barely feel anything but the numb, endless cold.

The mage watched him, detached and clinical, as if he were nothing more than an experiment. "Stop fighting it," she commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of his pain, "embrace it. Take control."

He tried to obey, tried to bend the power to his will, to grasp at the familiarity of his own affinity, the cold he’d known since he was a child. But the mana fought back, slipping through his fingers, wild and frenzied, rejecting him even as it seethed within him, forcing him to channel it regardless of his control. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each beat like a hammer on fragile glass, muscles trembling as he fought against the onslaught ravaging his body.

“Control it, Eldrin,” the mage repeated, as if her words alone could root him back in his magic. She sounded bored, impatient, as if he were a child fumbling with a simple task.

But he could barely think past the agony tearing him open from the inside.

A final surge ripped free, and Eldrin let out a hoarse cry, the sound swallowed by the ice-filled air. Jagged shards shattered outward, filling the room with a biting chill, scattering in sharp, merciless fragments that bounced across the stone as he collapsed, his strength utterly spent.

He lay there, the frost sinking into his skin, curling over his limbs like an invasive root system, draining him of the last vestiges of warmth and will. His breath hitched, shallow and stuttering, barely there. For a moment, he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him, couldn’t feel anything but the hollow ache of something once familiar, now tainted and foreign. His magic, his affinity… he couldn’t find it anymore, couldn’t tell if it was still his.

Above him, the mage’s voice was distant, an edge of bored disgust in her tone. “We’ll continue tomorrow,” she said, her footsteps retreating, leaving him there, alone in the fading frost.

[tearofisha]

Eldrin Endrithon (Later Shadewalker) Shattered Spiritseer Torn Between Worlds.

Personality: A personable, kind and patient individual, Eldrin is a man not well suited for the violent universe he occupies. Preferring to spend his days consoling the dead, educating the living and brew his impressive collection of teas rather than concern himself with matters of war. That said, he is an incredibly loyal friend and a dedicated leader, one who has sacrificed the wellbeing of his body for his Wraithguard and Aelinor on more occasional than can be counted.

Physical traits: 6"2. Asexual. Tall and sinewy, with greying black hair, Eldrin has suffered through many wounds that would kill most others but finds himself now suffering as though his age were significantly older than he truly is. Beneath his skin, a translucent crystal glow exists, and joints that were once healthy are now beginning to seize and cause visible discomfort.

Biography. (In short)

Born into a dwindling family of prestigious heroes, Eldrin walked the Path of the Seer as soon as he was able and would have been amongst the countless talented Farseers and Warlocks, had his older sister and Autarch Illithria Zephyrstorm not died in battle before he completed his path.

Heart broken by grief, Eldrin spent many hours in the Infinity Circuit communing with his lost sister until becoming a Spiritseer became the natural choice. Centuries of civil and military duties followed, and the Spiritseer never led his Wraiths to battle without himself alongside them in the thickest of the fighting. Later aligned with rookie Farseer Aelinor Llacharni, Eldrin guided the young Seer in fighting the Shadow War and personally slew the Freebooter Captain at the climax of the fighting.

War and old wounds have badly taken their toll, but the Spiritseer remains a stoic, reassuring presence both on the Craftworld and on the battlefield.

Allies:

Aelinor Fatereader, an apprentice of sorts. A lot of the Farseers' early career was advised and supervised by Eldrin, and on many occasions, he intervened personally in duels and fights to keep the blades from striking her. In recent years, Aelinor has come to appreciate and adore the kind soul in a way she never did as a leader.

Shana, a mysterious human that somehow ended upon the back of Ulthwe, Eldrin has become a cultural guide and protector of sorts. Her respectful nature, warm personality, and kind heart have formed a bond that's quickly becoming like that of father and daughter and the Spiritseer would go to great lengths to protect her.

Dracite Aeril, and her court. Having met as ambassadors to an Exodite world, the Spiritseer became fast friends with the Ynnari and fought beside them to protect the world from Slaaneshi attack. As befits a lonely man who makes few friends, he thinks of them all fondly and often sends little gifts of tea when he can.

[vivizn]

@alexxel