3. Raryldor Siamytherelin, a humble past, a humble mission

Raryldor Siamytherelin, a humble past, a humble mission


  • Loggin: Hekatoncheires
    Character: Raryldor Siamytherelin

    And so it came to pass that Raryldor Siamytherelin joined the ranks of the Clergy of the Father of All Elves in the plagued and ailing land of Narfell:

    Born to common moon elves in the great fields and spires of Evereska, the mountain home, Raryldor spent much of his childhood engaged in sport and play, and learning the art of winemaking from his gentle mother and observant father. He’d spend hours amidst the vineyards, carousing, brawling, singing and merrymaking with his friends. As early as his fourth decade, he displayed an astonishing wisdom, mediating between friends when necessary. He had a spark in him, as well, as when he would bloody the mouths of the obstinate bullies that would fight with his weaker brothers and sisters. He was clever, always placing himself in positions where he would gain the most, hiding in trees for hours on end so that his father and brothers would pass from the fields, so he could savor the otherwise forbidden sweet berries that would otherwise go in that particular years vintage. To avoid being caught redhanded, he would be sure to dip his hands into a stream, as well as run them through fresh hay and dirt from the horse fields.

    He felt the calling to serve his Lord in his ninth decade, and spoke with his father on this. Placing a magnificently wrought longsword in his hand, an heirloom from an adventuring ancestor, he introduced his son to the Evereskan clergy. For five decades, he trained in magic and martial combat. The defense of his Brothers and Sisters is part of the canon of Evereskan training, and these teachings found a deep-seated home within Raryldor. A mistrust of humanity also festered, the legacy of supreme Evereskan isolationism. Despite this, Raryldor, as much as he loved his home, longed to see the world and bring the teachings of the Seldarine to the heathens of the Realms, elves that had lost their way, some that had even forgotten, or never taught, their ancestral tongue.

    Many of his classmates found a home patrolling the deep crypts, accompanying the soldiers and mages of the Tomb Guard. Once fully ordained as a cleric and minister of his faith, Raryldor was sent abroad, to the east, his superiors wise enough to see the rumblings of wanderlust within him. He left with but the robe on his back. He worked his way east.

    He made his way slowly to Narfell, earning his keep through healing and light menial work. He never stayed in one town for more than a month, a heartbeat to an elf, but he made enough from his voyage to consider himself wealthy (by his humble standards) by the time he reached the north tip of the Rawlinswood.


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