Velho
Approved Character
- Messages
- 200
- Race
- Æld'Norai
- Profession
- Ferrier
- Location
- AElheim
- Arcana
- Character Sheet
༺༉❁ december 09 year 122 of the third age ❁༉༻
A few years back, Velho had begun to expand his arcane endeavors beyond his personal magics and his job as a Ferrier. He picked up Ensorcelling at his mother's behest; she insisted upon its utility, especially given how much it could help him given the poor state of his health. And it was through this study that he became fascinated with the idea of making Galdr initiations safer. This was, ostensibly, for reasons beyond simple safety. Sure, he was after the idea of increasing the survival rate so that less of his own kin would end up dead from it, but also so that more of the Fælnir would live. In the case of the latter, this was, ultimately, so that his people could harvest more Sundered artifacts from the Fælniri mages, and as such, one could argue his research was far and away from the preservation of life.
Velho's early endeavors resulted in spilling an ocean's worth of blood, though a lot of his research was at least somewhat promising. The Vænir knew that there were some with natural resilience – some who could withstand the trials of Galdr more than others – and some who were…simply lucky. He wanted both to examine the properties of the more resilient folks as well as more bodies for his Maltrician work and as such, his most recent initiates lacked any assistance during the trials, and most of thEyrie deaths were recorded for record keeping and compiling thEyrie attributes such that he could parse what was luck and what was not.
All of his most recent round of subjects ended up dying. Oh well, he thought, at least the flesh always had use. Still, however, he needed another initiate to play with. The ones who'd already undergone at least one initiation on thEyrie own were usually more promising, and as such, he figured he'd run his usual offer; he'd advertise the service of an Æld'Norai Galsterei, offering an elemental mark, free medical care for the initiation, and tutelage from the initiator should they survive. Many of the Fælnir found the idea of learning directly from thEyrie masters to be enticing and Ælven medical care was much better, generally, than what they could afford themselves. So it was that Velho did just that, and so it was that a young man took the bait– one by the name of Æhti von'Sverreson. He had only recently acquired Abation and had made remarkable strides with it; his skill was actually a rarity among the Fælnir when one accounted for his pace. It would likely be a shame for the Fælnir were he to die, but…surely, somebody like that could handle at least one more, no?
Velho would contact Æhti directly by mail, inviting him to his manor wherein he would undergo his initiation. Velho himself would not be the initiator, no– he had no Galdr. He would be more of an observer during for the sake of documentation, but afterwards he would be the one administering medical care…at least, that was what he said.
The manor, well, more of a tall, winding tower, was once a marshlog tree, but it had long since been grown into an expansive building with intricate, beautiful architecture. It sat suspended above the swamp water and was connected to the road by a dock. As he looked around, the presence of poppies and the small, purple flowers characteristic of nightshade stood out to him. Having grown up with an herbalist for a mother, he knew that these two plants both did grow in Hesperia, just…not in these concentrations nor were they usually found woven into the wood of trees like this. Still, he wasn't too surprised; the Æld'Norai were all Æcturnis. It was likely that Velho, the home's owner, was both bound to and enjoyed the presence of this flora, though the specific choices did leave a bit of an impression on Æhti. And although he stood surrounded by the buzzing of insects and the croaking of frogs in the distance, he felt so utterly alone in the darkness of the bog.
Æhti was…nervous. He wanted this, of course, but he was young…he didn't want to die. It was hard not to worry. By the time he arrived at the manor, his heart was fluttering in his chest. Not only could he die, but he had to contend with the social anxiety of meeting with two Æld'Norai, one of which was a fyn'Seiðr; more specifically, the son of Hesperia's founder. He wondered very much how this experience would go, his mind racing with possibilities as he stood outside of the large, ornately carved – or grown? – darkwood doors. He knew not the gravity of this decision nor just how much it would come to influence his life, but then…how could he? Æhti knocked, putting his life in the hands of fate.
The tension, for him, did not break when the door opened. The person on the other side of the threshold was a well dressed human, presumably a sveinn – serving staff – of some sort.
"Ah, you must be sær von'Sverreson– this way, you're right on time." The man's reception was warm and reassuring, though that only calmed Æhti's nerves a little.
Æhti nodded, offering sveinn a wan smile in affirmation. The other then turned to lead him through the entry hall and into a hallway, through which they'd walk before coming again to a door that led up a flight of stairs. The entire house was lush and immaculately decorated, with furnishings composed of dark woods streaked with magic, as well as fine artworks and a variety of decoration that varied from mundane to arcane objects to flowers– most of which were one shade of purple or another. The candles that lit thEyrie path were an arcane sort of lilac, too, giving the whole house an almost haunted feel. This did little to ease Æhti's nerves on top of the winding halls and overall confusing layout.
Eventually, the sveinn opened a door to a room wherein which there were two ælves. This room was different from the others; it was…a lot less home-y and a lot more like a clinic's office? Perhaps a lab? Either way, the suddenly very…sterile, almost, environment made him slightly uncomfortable, but he had to suppose it was for the best. He'd need medical care from a Galdr initiation, after all.
The two ælves were sitting around a large, empty table and had likely been speaking to one another before they heard the approaching footsteps. One of which was a man– tall and thin, his features were gaunt and his eyes sleepy and sunken. He was pale, almost sickly in appearance, with shoulder length dark hair and pale, lavender eyes. His ears were long and broad, almost batlike, but elegantly set against the sides of his head. He was dressed well, adorned with finely-tailored black silks that covered most of his spindly frame along with some choice pieces of finely made jewelry– was that Velho fyn'Seiðr? He'd heard the ælf was strange, but…he'd never seen one who looked quite like that. He didn't even look old, just…emaciated. He was probably beautiful, once, but it was hard to say that now.
The other present was more what one would expect of the Æld'Norai– she looked alive, full of vim and vigor; especially so by comparison. She had warmly toned amethyst skin, hair of a deeper shade of the same color, glowing opal eyes and pointed ears much thinner than her companion's, though they were similarly long. The leaf-like markings that crawled up her neck and across her nose were quite pretty, Æhti thought. She was dressed in shades of emerald accented in gold, gold that, at points, seemed to grow from her skin. Fitting, he thought– she was to be his initiator into Terra, then?
"Vænir, this is Æhti von'Sverreson," the sveinn spoke.
"Aye, thank you." Velho responded, his voice deep, soft, almost velvety.
"Come, Æhti– sit there," he continued, languidly lifting an arm to point at a stone slab not far from the table 'round which he sat. By then, the sveinn had left, closing the door behind him.
The slab looked like something similar to obsidian, maybe? It was hard to tell exactly at a glance, but it didn't look like the most comfortable thing in the world. By appearance, it suited brief examinations. Still, Æhti did as he was told.
But when he moved, so, too, did they. The woman was much quicker on her feet than Velho who had to grab onto an elaborate cane, long fingers wrapping around the rather ornate, intricately carved bioluminescent wood. The woman, Eyrie, also arrived at Æhti's side about twice as fast as Velho. She wasn't particularly quick, it was more that he was quite slow and had decided to drag along a chair with him so that he could sit closer. Still, he appeared to stand well enough with the cane's assistance.
Velho's early endeavors resulted in spilling an ocean's worth of blood, though a lot of his research was at least somewhat promising. The Vænir knew that there were some with natural resilience – some who could withstand the trials of Galdr more than others – and some who were…simply lucky. He wanted both to examine the properties of the more resilient folks as well as more bodies for his Maltrician work and as such, his most recent initiates lacked any assistance during the trials, and most of thEyrie deaths were recorded for record keeping and compiling thEyrie attributes such that he could parse what was luck and what was not.
All of his most recent round of subjects ended up dying. Oh well, he thought, at least the flesh always had use. Still, however, he needed another initiate to play with. The ones who'd already undergone at least one initiation on thEyrie own were usually more promising, and as such, he figured he'd run his usual offer; he'd advertise the service of an Æld'Norai Galsterei, offering an elemental mark, free medical care for the initiation, and tutelage from the initiator should they survive. Many of the Fælnir found the idea of learning directly from thEyrie masters to be enticing and Ælven medical care was much better, generally, than what they could afford themselves. So it was that Velho did just that, and so it was that a young man took the bait– one by the name of Æhti von'Sverreson. He had only recently acquired Abation and had made remarkable strides with it; his skill was actually a rarity among the Fælnir when one accounted for his pace. It would likely be a shame for the Fælnir were he to die, but…surely, somebody like that could handle at least one more, no?
Velho would contact Æhti directly by mail, inviting him to his manor wherein he would undergo his initiation. Velho himself would not be the initiator, no– he had no Galdr. He would be more of an observer during for the sake of documentation, but afterwards he would be the one administering medical care…at least, that was what he said.
•════════════════════•december 12 year 123 of the third age
Æhti was…nervous. He wanted this, of course, but he was young…he didn't want to die. It was hard not to worry. By the time he arrived at the manor, his heart was fluttering in his chest. Not only could he die, but he had to contend with the social anxiety of meeting with two Æld'Norai, one of which was a fyn'Seiðr; more specifically, the son of Hesperia's founder. He wondered very much how this experience would go, his mind racing with possibilities as he stood outside of the large, ornately carved – or grown? – darkwood doors. He knew not the gravity of this decision nor just how much it would come to influence his life, but then…how could he? Æhti knocked, putting his life in the hands of fate.
The tension, for him, did not break when the door opened. The person on the other side of the threshold was a well dressed human, presumably a sveinn – serving staff – of some sort.
"Ah, you must be sær von'Sverreson– this way, you're right on time." The man's reception was warm and reassuring, though that only calmed Æhti's nerves a little.
Æhti nodded, offering sveinn a wan smile in affirmation. The other then turned to lead him through the entry hall and into a hallway, through which they'd walk before coming again to a door that led up a flight of stairs. The entire house was lush and immaculately decorated, with furnishings composed of dark woods streaked with magic, as well as fine artworks and a variety of decoration that varied from mundane to arcane objects to flowers– most of which were one shade of purple or another. The candles that lit thEyrie path were an arcane sort of lilac, too, giving the whole house an almost haunted feel. This did little to ease Æhti's nerves on top of the winding halls and overall confusing layout.
Eventually, the sveinn opened a door to a room wherein which there were two ælves. This room was different from the others; it was…a lot less home-y and a lot more like a clinic's office? Perhaps a lab? Either way, the suddenly very…sterile, almost, environment made him slightly uncomfortable, but he had to suppose it was for the best. He'd need medical care from a Galdr initiation, after all.
The two ælves were sitting around a large, empty table and had likely been speaking to one another before they heard the approaching footsteps. One of which was a man– tall and thin, his features were gaunt and his eyes sleepy and sunken. He was pale, almost sickly in appearance, with shoulder length dark hair and pale, lavender eyes. His ears were long and broad, almost batlike, but elegantly set against the sides of his head. He was dressed well, adorned with finely-tailored black silks that covered most of his spindly frame along with some choice pieces of finely made jewelry– was that Velho fyn'Seiðr? He'd heard the ælf was strange, but…he'd never seen one who looked quite like that. He didn't even look old, just…emaciated. He was probably beautiful, once, but it was hard to say that now.
The other present was more what one would expect of the Æld'Norai– she looked alive, full of vim and vigor; especially so by comparison. She had warmly toned amethyst skin, hair of a deeper shade of the same color, glowing opal eyes and pointed ears much thinner than her companion's, though they were similarly long. The leaf-like markings that crawled up her neck and across her nose were quite pretty, Æhti thought. She was dressed in shades of emerald accented in gold, gold that, at points, seemed to grow from her skin. Fitting, he thought– she was to be his initiator into Terra, then?
"Vænir, this is Æhti von'Sverreson," the sveinn spoke.
"Aye, thank you." Velho responded, his voice deep, soft, almost velvety.
"Come, Æhti– sit there," he continued, languidly lifting an arm to point at a stone slab not far from the table 'round which he sat. By then, the sveinn had left, closing the door behind him.
The slab looked like something similar to obsidian, maybe? It was hard to tell exactly at a glance, but it didn't look like the most comfortable thing in the world. By appearance, it suited brief examinations. Still, Æhti did as he was told.
But when he moved, so, too, did they. The woman was much quicker on her feet than Velho who had to grab onto an elaborate cane, long fingers wrapping around the rather ornate, intricately carved bioluminescent wood. The woman, Eyrie, also arrived at Æhti's side about twice as fast as Velho. She wasn't particularly quick, it was more that he was quite slow and had decided to drag along a chair with him so that he could sit closer. Still, he appeared to stand well enough with the cane's assistance.
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