Fenlaros

## Description

*Fenlaros is a tall and lanky individual, with long and slender fingers. He has tanned skin and dark brown hair which is tied in a braid. He has sharp and angular features, and his eyes are a stunning emerald green. His skin is slick and scaly, and seems to be covered in a thin layer of slime.*

## Background

It is said that all elves can trace their lineage to the great marble courts of the floating isle although only a few still live that remember its splendour. It was said that Lothuil was resplendent in its beauty, every detail of its architecture intricate in design, every plaza decorated with golden statues and fountains laden with mosaics depicting legendary battles that changed and shifted as water flowed above them.

This was a time of peace and prosperity for the elves, a time before the treachery of the Wolf King banished the Anam'satil to the Feywild, before the usurper Malakai took up the mantle of the Black King and killed his true king and friend Belanar. It was before the death of their immortal empire. The race splintered, and many migrated to different parts of the world, forced to either live a nomadic existence wandering the plains and forests, join the ranks of the treacherous drow elves that followed Malakai or attempt to integrate within the society of humans. Yet even as their race dwindled to a mere shadow of what it once was, many still held within their heart the pride of their forefathers’ legacy.

Fenlaros held no such pride, for he had been told his entire life that he was not worthy of such a legacy. His father may have been one of the great wizards within the elvish city of Toralean, but his mother had merely been a lowly human, a farmer’s daughter that had unwittingly wandered into the great forest during the Night of the Fey. Fenlaros had heard on many occasions that the story behind his birth was not one of love or romance but rather due to the great power of the Fey Moon. During the Summer Solstice, the veil between Feywild and Penastria grew thinner. The chaotic magic of the Fey entered the world, and influenced those fey-touched beings such as the elves, bringing out their most base of desires. In the case of his father, Beluin, upon seeing the lass wandering amidst the brush, gave in to his lustful desire and took her beneath one of the very trees in the forest. This story brought great shame to Beluin and he had heard many a degrading tale.

The greatest insult to his pride however was the child that followed after, a child that reminded him all to well of his shame. Fenlaros grew up enduring much of the cruelty of those around him and he was shunned by many of the other elves within his city, for the stain his mother left upon him was one that could never be washed away. Chief amongst all those that degraded him was his father who saw too much of his mother within his son and berated him at any possible chance.

The only place within the great forest that Fenlaros could hope to find any solace was a solitary glade, a quiet and relaxing place where he spent many a night bathing within the rays of the moonlight, lost in calm and quiet meditation. The weave was strong here, and permeated the very air around him, the wild magic bringing with it a quiet and calm understanding, it felt as if the magic spoke to him, at times it seemed as if the magic consoled him in his sorrow and at others it shared in his anger at the world around him. He spent much of his childhood within the glade where he learnt to harness the very magic from the air and transmute it into forms of his choosing, he learnt to manipulate the four elements and as he grew in age, so too did his power grow with him.

For a time, his life continued to pass along uneventfully until the day the Demonkin attacked his city. There were thousands of them, a mutated tide of abominations that charged towards the forest. The elves fought for days, aided by the spirits of the fey that called the great forest their home. Fenlaros had taken his place amongst the sorcerers, hurling magic at any that dared caught his sight. Flames erupted from his fingertips engulfing any that came before him as more and more continued to pour forth. The battle raged on with neither side gaining a noticeable advantage until the Vigil arrived, hundreds of griffon-riders dotted the skies as they joined the elves in battle pushing back the onslaught and routing most of the Demonkin that infested the forest.

It was a night of feasts where all were revered as heroes, all except for Fenlaros for none of the others could bring themselves to put aside their pride and congratulate the half-elf, thus he was left alone to ponder within the calm of the glade. This was where he met him, grandmaster of the vigil, the great hero of the battle of a thousand tears, Grandmaster Arantheal. The man seemed to enjoy the quiet and had come across the glade in his attempt to escape the festivities. When he came across the quiet half-elf it was not a look of disgust that spread upon his face, but rather one of quiet understanding as he saw him as a kindred spirit. They spent all night lost in conversation and it was here that Fenlaros made his first friend. It did not take much convincing from Arantheal who offered him the chance to join the vigil, and the very next day Fenlaros departed with his new companions to the Midden where he took his vows as a vigilant and his adventure truly began.

His journey would take him through the Draconic Empire, where he would stop a Demonkin threat plotted by the Panzer family, a Goliath family within Hodon who sought the power and allegiance of a powerful demonkin called Mardu. Mardu, so called one of the first chosen, would in that become an immortal enemy of Fenlaros, after the latter freed him from his cage, although the reasons for Mardu's hatred for Fenlaros are still unknown. Travelling with the knight Artheus Northwards, Fenlaros grew increasingly weary of the world. He removed his ties with the vigil and soon found himself trying to enjoy a peaceful life, regardless of how much fate tried to put obstacles in his path. Along his path, he had a chance encounter with the Aboleth by the name of Duurthu, who enslaved Fenlaros for a time for a slice of his psionic powers.

Duurthu scheming came to a head when Fenlaros managed to break free of his control, and managed to absorb Duurthu's psyche into his own, although not without some changes to his body.

Still, it was with quiet resignation that Fenlaros found himself within the Fortress, after having fought Beastmen, Gnolls, and worse.