Ptolus- City by the Spire
10,000 year-old fallen godling
Strength 20 Dexterity 20 Constitution - Intelligence 18 Wisdom 8 Charisma 9
HP 89 AC 23
Fortitude +7 Reflex +10 Will +3
BE = Before Empire; IA = Imperial Age
c. 10,000 BE Long before history can recall, I was born. I was the first of the Cherubim Elves, created by Praemus to populate the world. He crafted my race to have a similar appearance to that of the angels, and from the moment I was born, I considered myself one. An archangel showed me the ways of the world, and I took the name Andriel after him in tribute. My brothers and sisters, the creators of the Solarr and Lunas Elves (Also called Elder Elves), were my constant companions as we traversed this new world. We spread our own children, creating races of elves that would be faster then the clunky humans, more elegant, more dignified, and more holy. Soon, the world was full of life, and we sat back to admire our handiwork. The elves were beautiful. Everything they touched sprang to life, bursting with bounty and light. But, as our civilizations grew, evil did as well. Soon, a darkness crept over our people, killing and maiming, burning and destroying. We separated, rushing to defend our kin, and we taught our children the art of war. We made arrows and swords, and we took up arms, pushing back the darkness until it was no more. We rejoiced, but we had been taught a valuable lesson. We could never turn our backs to our children. So, we decided to live among them, leading them in times of war, and singing with them in times of peace. Other cultures had been created by Praemus and the Lords of the Seven Chains, and they grew as well; fighting, trading, and forging bonds of friendship that could never be broken. Life went on like this some time, and I became a powerful figure, a deity of sorts, in my culture. There wasn’t an enemy that we couldn’t defeat, because whenever the going got too rough, our Elder Elven brothers and sisters were there to help, and of course we returned the favor.
c. 7,500 BE After centuries of this life, a new, more powerful evil arose, and from a surprising source. A cleric, Danar Rotansin who had joined me along with many other angels and paladins of the time in a multitude of battles and crusades, had an idea to collect all the evil in the world, and store it in a secret vault far form the sun’s rays. At first, many of the other powerful celestial beings helped him, but he started to withdraw from us, he lost interest in his work, and finally Danar sealed himself off altogether. We did not realize until later our mistake. One of the items we collected for Danar was the Book of Inverted Darkness, a powerful tome that had been scribed by the gods themselves. When we found the book it was being guarded by a Lich-King, who put up a terrifying fight. It seemed that no one could defeat him, until something surprising happened. The Lich fell from his throne. I’m still not sure what happened, but fate seemed to be on our side as I sliced off the wizard’s head, at least until the book got to Danar. None of us, including Danar, understood how powerful the book was. It corrupted him while he sat in there, pouring over that book. No one saw him for years, and his magic was powerful enough that no mage could break in. When he finally emerged, he was calling himself Eslathagos Malkith, and the Galchutt themselves were on his side. He called forth demons and beasts, former servants of the Galchutt, and laid waste to the world. He was, of course, armed with hundreds of dread items, the very ones he once strove to protect. For decades, the war raged on, and it was all we could do to hold him at bay. Eventually, we found young heroes, and gave them runes to bear, and with the gods’ blessings, the heroes beat back the armies of the Dread One. His forces crumbled under our might. We drove them back to Jabel Shammar, as he was calling his spire, and we attacked it, driving upward. I led the charge, even as we entered the most powerful room in that unholy castle. We fought a great battle in the room where the Entropy Sphere (A powerful magical confluence of energies) lay, but just when the battle seemed to have been won, one of our mages cast a spell, presumably to send a demon to the ends of the earth through teleportation, but the spell was sucked into Sphere, and spit back out at me. I lost consciousness immediately.
c. 7,200 BE When I awoke, I was in a strange land. I was stripped of armor and weapons, and in a forest like none I had ever seen. It was dark there, and strange animals I had never seen before leapt between the trees. Of course, I decided immediately to try and find a way out of the forest, and back to my own lands. But, unfortunately, the tree cover was so dense, that I could not break my way through. Realizing I might have to endure much hardship before escaping this horrible place, I decided to start a fire and create a campsite. I was looking for branches to build a bonfire, when I saw something strange. A bobbing light, flitting between the marsh grasses. I tore into the swamp, following it. It led me to the heart of the bog, and then it disappeared. That’s when the spell was dropped and I knew I had been tricked. The light had been magical in nature, created by some minute creatures that now filled the air. I swatted at them, but they were too quick for me. They looked much like the fairies that I had seen at home, they were fey, seelie, like the Elves. These seelie were not made of laughter and sunshine, though. They were made of blackness and ice. Soon, I would name them unseelie. Stone walls grew up around me and vines entangled my wings, more of their magics, and I was trapped. How long that pit was my home I do not know. I didn’t have much time to think, as the unseelie kept me busy fighting monsters they threw into the pit. It was a sport for them, and I was their best player. Over the years I lost more and more of myself. My kind draw power from the beliefs and feelings of those around us, and all that was here was dark, feral, and utterly without warmth. These characteristics began to affect me, and I believe that is when I lost my divinity. I died, there, in that pit, and never even noticed.
720 IA I grew certain I would never escape, until one day; a small blue unseelie cut my vines. I still do not know why, I would guess what passes for a joke among their kind, but as soon as my wings were free I burst from the pit, killing the leader of the unseelie who was sitting upon my prison wall. With their leader dead, the pixies fled. I flew, crashing through the branches, tearing my body to ribbons, but finally, I was out of the forest. I was covered in gashes and cuts from the trees, but wounds no longer concerned me. Above me was the sun. In that first instant, when I felt the sun’s glorious rays strike my beaten body, I was alive. But alas, it was just that instant. Immediately after, the sun that I had waited so long to feel scorned me. It began to burn my body, and had I not used my powers over reality, I would have perished. I realized that this was my punishment for not having the strength to escape sooner, to go back and aid my brothers and sisters in defeating the fallen Eslathagos Malkith. I knew that I had to right that wrong, then I would be able to feel the sun’s rays again. I turn my gaze to the horizon, and flew, keeping my shield of darkness above me during the day. I flew for weeks, but that was nothing compared to how long I spent in that gladiatorial pit. Eventually, I arrived back in my native land, but much had changed in the time I was gone. Many wars had ravaged my land, and much life had grown were there had not been any. I hid from all the living beings I had once walked among, I knew they would fear and hate me if I were to show myself. I checked on my children, the Cherubim Elves, and they had thrived in the time I had been gone. I saw Humans, Dwarves, Halflings, and Gnomes, but I could not find what I was most looking for. My brothers and sisters, the Elder Elves. I found creatures called Elves, but they were weaker, more corrupt, then I had known my kin to be. After a while I decided to go back to Ptolus, which was a small but growing city next to Jabel Shammar where all this had begun. I have also been unable to find out who rules this new land, and I pray to Praemus that it is not that fallen hero Malkith. Hopefully, I will find my kin and a good ruler in Ptolus. It is true that I have no knowledge of how much time has passed since I left, but it cannot be that long. And I am confidant that my fellow heroes destroyed the spire, I’m sure Ptolus is no longer under the reign of the corrupt. I have not been gone that long…
721 IA (Today)