Adresin aén Aeloth, Virhice'elana

Adresin in his traditional armor and dress, armed with his family's swords and adorning his crest on his chestplate.

The Elvhen realms, since the Judgment of Til’Aras, continue to be a joining of two separate entities that maintain distinct identity from one another. While many houses on both sides continued their great power through the crisis of the Sundering, a fair many fell from grace, having chosen the wrong sides or having many of their heirs slain on the fields of fire that would be the battlegrounds of the war against the wilds. Though it is history of over a millennia ago, this split and ‘rebellion’ as it is viewed defines those who are high-born and those who are scorned. One of these scorned houses was that of House Aeloth of the forest-aligned Elvhen, who survived only through a single third-born daughter during the time of strife after their principal heirs were killed. Since then, the house has straddled the line of total obscurity, and more frequently serves as a minor house pledging fealty and swords to those who command its lands.

Born Adresin of House Aeloth in the year 414 CE, and second son to his father, Kaelin, he was destined for a humble fate through his early years. Originally trained in the arts and music as a boy by his father’s musicians at court, he became a skilled musician through his many hours at the strings of his vaelharnor, though he would rise no higher than a skilled musician in the part of stringed orchestras and ensembles. Within its own time, however, the music proved unfulfilling. Performing for crowds, set upon stages at parties with the powerful mingling all around him, it proved all meaningless. The music itself was not the problem; no, it was rather the organization of the society around him. The great houses of the Elvhen had grown complacent, proving to strive for nothing but their own comfort and self-fulfillment of their carnal desires of high society. Catering to their pleasure at these functions was a waste of a lifetime; something else must be out there.

Taking upon lessons from his father’s sergeant-at-arms was a difficult task. He was considered far too old to start; and that aside, the combat and chivalry was for the first-born son. There was no reason to try to force an almost-20 boy into the training rack, to begin him now as opposed to beginning as soon as the first hairs appeared on the boy’s chin. But persistence would win the day; he would persist, arriving at the barracks even when he was unwanted there. And day after day, he would train, going through drills many would consider unbecoming of someone his age, but they would continue nonetheless.

Eventually, he would reach proficiency, and was placed in a practice duel against his brother Nael’tor. The duel took place in the courtyard of House Aeloth’s estate on the Oak Meridian, and Nael’tor and Adresin began their duel at sunset. From the setting of the sun until it had entirely gone below the horizon, neither brother gained the upper hand, and Adresin had proven his proficiency. Granted the title Sword of the Forest -- Virhice'elana -- by his father, he was set out from the forest and tasked with gaining knowledge and connections beyond the Elvhen houses of the forest, to forge an alliance across the sea and strengthen the position of his house. Adresin now had a purpose. Now he set himself upon it.

Negotiations. 453 CE.

So he would set his sights on politics, and so he would fail.

Removal from the Mage's Guild, following a short stint, would be followed by joining with the aspiring House Milaen. For a time, service came with honor, and the possibility of forming an alliance. Being there for the building up of a House, from the beginning, to take the place of a vacant Duke seemed like a true possibility, a chance to prove himself. But with the execution of Aigver and the various other accusations that came to the Count Milaen during his trial, it quickly fell apart. How many of Milaen's actions were truly meant maliciously, and how many were simple errors will perhaps forever be a mystery. But as much as that era could have remained, it dissipated. Adresin was left to the winds, another of his prospects pried from his fingers, leaving him in a foreign land.

As he explored his options, Adresin aen Aeloth turned into just going by Adresin, turned to being referred to simply as 'Elf', turned to...whatever he had to be. It all began to slip away. Even his personal connections began to falter. Friends he had made at the start of his journey and friends from his home either remained with organizations that he himself could not forsee joining, or became so entangled with others that it became fruitless. And when one's heart commands him to do something, even if it is foolish, it is done all the same. It was never from jealousy, but from a place of a concern. Alas, given the silence that has been unbroken since that day, it's mattered little.

Bonds made anew from choice, however, prove the strongest of all. Even if the group comes about by chance, or perhaps some form of fate -- another tower in another land, but a connection all the same. The rough Mull, the stern Tiali, and the quiet Rean. The four of them formed an odd group. One that did not perhaps always stick together, nor always get along, but was there for one another more than any of them perhaps expected. For Adresin, at least, that made all the difference.

Two brushes against the very edge of the river of death, twice brought to the brink of it all. Brought back once by strangers and circumstance, once by friends. Those friends, newly gained from the collapse of his political striving, kept him from the edge of the cliffs more times that they could possibly know. But to face Yses so closely a third time, Adresin thought, would break him. And so he played it closely, protecting what little he had left. But all this time, he had made no progress with an alliance. No sending no word back to his people. And so, he simply declined to do so, instead sending his family's ceremonial swords in his place.

Felisan left soon after. His confession, after a revelation to him, giving only a slight feeling of satisfaction. She would leave with him knowing that he had at least convinced her at some point, even if it was only at the end. She would be waiting for him, he hoped, when he returned home. Business remained unfinished, however. Too many strings remained connected, just tethered out of view. The visions on the quest with the Ranger and Bellicus particularly troubled him, but even then, the politics of the late Duke's brother complicated things. It could not simply be left to the imagination. Not yet.