#elothir

[nekrokatart]

Sketch portrait commission for Alivaera

[maliciousmolamola]

Badass goblin lady, Elothir. She's one of my favorite npcs in the campaign I'm playing in; could absolutely wipe the floor with our entire party, but she has better things to do.

[rhunae]

The Dreamgrove is so gorgeous. I could sit here all day.

[queenofbelow]

rain, ruins or broken for bryndis?

Ruins featuring -whisper- backstory (I don’t consider it spoilery as many pieces of the puzzle are still missing). I’m throwin’ hints though. Weirdly, this word prompt tied into a part of her story that I’ve been playing around with. So I decided to expand on it a bit.

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“What do you apply after setting a bone?” Her father was standing behind her, but not overbearing. Bryndis worked on creating bushels of herbs to dry. He had been testing her in this manner for years, asking a question when she least expected it.

This habit of her father’s caused a rather large scene at the harvest festival when he asked his daughter how best to leech and dress a boil. Bryndis believed he did so because she was being advanced upon by one of the farm boys, whom she had taken a liking to. The boy had a kind and open demeanor that attracted her immediately. Though he wasn’t skilled in engaging conversation, he was pleasing to look at. Her father called him simple, she called him… humble.

Needless to say, after a large discussion and near argument with her father over gross medicinal practices, the boy kept his distance. “He wasn’t intelligent enough for you.” Her father said afterwards with a contented look on his face.

Her father had been in a peculiar mood as of late. His questions becoming more frequent. “Witch Hazel to disinfect one last time should there be broken skin, before applying Yarrow and ground Lavender to keep any smells at bay– as well as assisting with bruising. Then bandage.” Bryndis drawled. “Really Papa, have you so little faith in me?”

He came to lean against the table while she continued to work. “I have every confidence in you.” They sat there in silence for some time. Though she knew he was watching her carefully. Her father had a natural gift for healing, but he possessed skills she did not. The villagers of Bramborough thought him a mage, it did not help that they were already disposed to be suspicious.

A rumor circulated that her mother was a druid who communed with the fey. It took them months to restore their reputation, and convince them that they would not steal their children from their cradles. In the end, her family became pillars of the community, though still kept at a distance by some. It was a small village, but a happy one.

“What do you say to a quick outing to the forest, hmm?” Her father began to collect his satchel and staff, a sign that she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Though the thought to leave her work behind and escape to the woods was always a tempting. 

—–

As they ventured beyond the treeline Bryn felt tension leave her person. Like her parents, she found herself most at ease when in the wood. “Is there anything in particular you wished to show me?”

“Yes–well, I thought I’d use the opportunity of your mother being away to disobey her wishes. Do you remember the ruins of Caelia?” His voice was steady, though his shoulders were tensed.

Her mother was away visiting an old friend, an elven mage named Elothir. She knew not how they came to be so close, but the elven sage had been a consistent presence in her life from the time she was young. Bryn never took a particular liking to him, as he asked her odd questions and looked at her like one of his specimens he kept behind glass.

Her father continued but her pace slowed behind him. “Mama forbid me from venturing there, and you know why.”

When she was young, perhaps six years old, she became separated from her parents on an outing to the woods. Though the memories were faded, her mother was frightened to find her child standing in the ruins, alone and shivering. As soon as the threshold of the ruins was passed, she revived, unaware of any danger she may have been exposed to.

Since that time, Bryn was forbidden of venturing too far south in the woods. Though unafraid of what lurks in the trees, a childhood fear of the ruins remained. The villagers said witches gathered there to make sacrifices to ancient beings, and to steal away and corrupt the youth. Bryn believe it to be nonsense, but secretly feared the stories all the same.

“It is time to show you something.” Her father said quietly. After that, they walked in silence. The further they traveled the songs of the birds quieted and only the quaking of the trees remained.

They arrived at the ruins some hours before sunset. The ruins were by no means spectacular. A crumbling stone wall hid a cobbled floor, at its center was a circle drawn in white with mushrooms breaking through the grout at the circles heart. The pair approached the circle and her father held out his hand to stop Bryn from advancing.

“You know that the villagers are – imaginative with their traditions. Your mother and I thought it best to raise you away from that.” He sighed, and suddenly looked weary. 

“But some suspicions are founded, such as this place.” He gestured to the circle, “The story of this ruin is a sad one. Long ago a women named Caelia dwelled here..”

Bryn tensed, eyes widening, “The witch?!” 

“What?” Her father looked confused, “No! Really? I thought you above such fancies–Please just listen to me.” Despite herself, Bryn chuckled at her father’s furrowed brow.

“Fine. Tell your tale.” Bryn began to follow the outline of the circle, absent-mindedly reaching out her hand to the center. There was a peace here, and she began to wonder why she feared it for so long.  

He continued, his words soft. “Caelia was a touched soul and did not belong to this world. Though I cannot properly confirm the facts, I believe there is truth to the words–”

Bryn listened patiently but began to struggle to make sense of her father’s words. Her movements came to a slow halt. She looked to her father and blinked forcefully, attempting to shake off a dizzy spell. His lips kept moving, but his voice was distant. The world began to shimmer and move as time itself slowed. Unintelligible whispering began, still distant but malicious in intent.

An icy chill enveloped her akin to the sensation of falling into cold water. “Papa.” She spoke but could not hear her voice. Colors were twisting about her, the greens of the wood turning to a vibrant orange and the brown turning to stark white with etched eyes in the bark. What was muffled sound became none as she began to scream, “Papa!”

At once, the spell broke and her world returned to her. She was in her father’s arms. After a time of regaining her senses she began realize he was crying. “My child, I’m sorry,” he repeated the words through his tears, as he stroked her hair. “I had to know, I’m so sorry.”

[rhunae]

Rhunae Swiftroot (Archdruid of the Dreamweavers) Koda Steelclaw (Archdruid of the Claw) Ysera (Mother of Dreams, and a shit load of other titles) Elothir (Archdruid of Lore) Malfurion Stormrage (Archdruid of the Kaldorei & Moonglade)