Aeralaanys Rhylovhas
Basic Information
Static Details
- Full Names:
- Middle Altalar: Æraláanist'haimaias Tyuesenthar Rhyluetherelvayas ú Gráelle Taleaenán.
- Modern Altalar: Aeralaanys Tyeuse Rhylovhas.
- Nicknames & Aliases: Aera, Laanys, Asher, Knife-Eared Spook, Wizard.
- Age: 1,407 years.
- Born: 1101BC/119th Year, Grandening era.
- Gender: Male.
- Race: Aart-Url.
- Previously: Teledden Altalar.
- Preferred Weapon: Previously Magic; now, his fists.
Fluid Details
- Position in Regalia:
- TBA
- Family & Upbringing:
- TBA
- Life Ambitions:
- TBA
Skill Information
Proficiencies
- Point Pool: 60 points.
- Combat:
- +10 Unarmed Combat.
- Knowledge:
- +10 Hunting Knowledge.
- +5 invested; Small Game Hunting.
- +5 invested; Medium Game Hunting.
- +15 Linguistics Knowledge.
- +5 invested; Shalota.
- +5 invested; Sulvaley Elven.
- +5 invested; Extinct Elven Pack.
- +8 Magical Knowledge.
- +4 invested; Racialism.
- +4 invested; Dimenthism.
- +9 Historical Knowledge.
- +3 invested; Nelfin.
- +3 invested; Pre-Allorn.
- +3 invested; Dragon.
- +8 Societal Knowledge.
- +4 invested; Allorn.
- +4 invested; Western.
- Arts:
- +10 Architecture Arts.
- Focused on recognising and dating ancient styles.
Body Shape
- Shape: Varying, usually Strongman.
- Physical Stat: 28 in Clean Form, 48 in Fused Form, 58 in Gore Form, 78 in Shatter Form.
- Calculation: 18 Unarmed + 10 Hunting + 20 Fused/30 Gore/50 Shatter = 48/58/78 Body Stat.
- Body Fat: Varying, usually Low.
Languages
- Living Tongues:
- Middle Altalar. (Native language.)
- Modern Altalar. (Native language.)
- Sulvaley Elven. (+5 Linguistics investment.)
- Shalota. (+5 Linguistics investment.)
- Oortaal. (From Oorlification.)
- Common. (Free language.)
- Extinct Tongues:
- Twi' Dialects. (+15 Linguistics investment; Extinct Elven Pack.)
- Ancient Altalar. (+15 Linguistics investment; Extinct Elven Pack.)
Special Traits
- Existling Silven: Regnance.
- Document Link: [x]
- Ageborn Confusion. (Aesthetic)
- Shifting Strain. (Aesthetic.)
- White Scions. (Aesthetic.)
- Url Adaptation. (Aesthetic.)
- Url Shifts:
- Clean Form.
- Fused Form.
- Shatter Form.
- Gore Form.
- Url Abilities:
- Url Shifting.
- Url Skin.
- Oorl Telepathy.
- Url Immunity.
- Url Skeletology.
Visual Information
Basic Image
- Eye Color: Silver, ringed with blue.
- Hair Color: Golden blonde.
- Hair Style: Varying; sometimes kept loose and flowing, others braided or tied.
- Skin Color: Alternates between pale tones and white fur.
- Clothing: Silks and satins trimmed with gold, coloured in white and royal blue, ostentatiously immodest.
- Height: 7', or 213cm.
Finer Details
- Facial Features:
- Body Description:
- Fashion & Jewellery:
- Voice Description:
Personality and Abilities
Internal
- Moral Alignment:
- Lawful Evil || Aeralaanys is frequently out for himself and his own interests, even if this is detrimental to the livelihoods of others, intentional or no, but abides by a strict set of personal principles that he believes keep him many steps above what can be considered a caricature of self-interest.
- Personality Type:
- ENTJ-A; the Commander || Aeralaanys, being a child of the Regnance Arken, has an innate desire to dominate and control a situation or group; as such, he demonstrates great capacity for direction and leadership- if he has something to set his sights on. Without a clear target, his control will often wane, indicating a clear aggressive streak in his strategies.
- Religious Affiliations:
- Religion: Estel's Pantheon.
- Piety: 0/10 || Despite being the faith upon which he was raised, Estellian factions have become repulsive to him after centuries of religiously-excused slaughters, defacement of Estel's holy sites and, more recently, revelations that shook him to his very core.
- Religion: Dragon Dogma.
- Piety: 6/10 || With the reappearance of the Blue Crown Dragons in Rikkira and the Prince Marshal of the Empire, Aeralaanys has become something of a religious turncoat. Seeking to atone for the sins of his people, he has secretly taken up worship of the Dragons in spite of his Silvenism, hoping to offer something in return for all that the Altalar have taken from Aloria.
External
- Quirks:
- Skills:
- Preferences:
- Likes:
- Dislikes:
- Relationships:
Life Story
Birth & Childhood
A Long and Winding Book is Opened
A Long and Winding Book is Opened
It is the 119th Year, Grandening Era, and the squalls of new life have blessed the halls of the Rhyluetherelvayas family. Another Est'alorn, the seventh child of what will become twenty-four, but perhaps the odd one out; the wetnurse raises the child high, naked and glistening, with a head of short golden blonde hair and shining silver eyes. The nurse cries out the blessings of Estel and the Pantheon; this child is attuned to the Exist! Its parents join in the celebration; its mother silences her conscience.
Eight years pass.
...He is lanky for his age, a head above any of his other siblings at the same age, and more handsome by half. His parents regard him as their best and brightest, with a ravenous hunger for knowledge foremost among his personality. He scours libraries for books of the old days and consumes tomes of ancient knowledge with the haste and ferocity of a starved jungle cat pinning its prey. His chambers are occupied by ghosts and bright lights. The parents do not yet know.
Six years pass.
Adolescence & Teenage Years
Little to Do But Books and Magic
Little to Do But Books and Magic
The entrance exam was laughable, but the shelves are now his to peruse and purloin at his leisure. A tutor visits him thrice a week; twice a week, they study arcana; once a week, they channel Exist essence. The power terrifies him, but the tutor reminds him of his birthright. It doesn't convince him, but he hides the failure behind agreement. The tutorship continues. Thrice a week, the archaic texts and half-finished papers shrouding his desk are replaced by words of incantation, diagrams of dimensions, and volumes thick with the lives of past arcanists.
Sixteen years pass.
...The room down the hall is humming with excitement- depending on who he asked. He doesn't know what to expect. A clandestine Arken summoning? A secret Void ritual? The night is cool and clear, and the halls are chilly. He swings the oaken door open; it doesn't creak or squeak or make the slightest sound. Oiled, probably, to prevent others from waking to the noise. A few further steps in, and the crowd, if eight people can be called a crowd, parts slightly to allow him into the circle. At the circle's centre lay a bone on a bed of silk, presumably some kind of toe- or finger-bone of a great animal. There is a hushed whisper; "Drogon." Dragon-bone. The Faith forbade Aeralaanys and all of the Altalar people from cohorting with the Draconic, and yet... here they were. He kept his mouth shut.
Three-hundred years pass.
Early Adulthood
Age, War, and the End of the World
Age, War, and the End of the World
...He sits with an old friend and reminisces over their days of study so many years ago, taking many glasses of wine. His classmate looks upon him with crows-feet at the corners of his eyes and white streaks at his hairline. He looks back, appearing hardly any different than he had all that time ago. "There may be something to this," the classmate suggests. He brushes the idea off- he's simply waiting for it to start. He isn't too old yet- a decade is not too long a delay before he joins the rest of his school in meeting age with indignity. He might keep up with his children and their travels for another month, another year, but not forever, he says. In time, his children will no longer be able to keep up with him…
Seven-hundred and seventy-one years pass.
...All of the shelves cannot be packed; if only they could be. He, along with a score of other scholars, scour the library for the most valuable tomes- the ones of their kind, the oldest, the most detailed. They do not realise that a half of their catalogue is already the last of their kind. The walls rumble. He grabs another tome from another shelf and shoves it in with the others. He wishes the defensive wards had not been so viciously drained of essence to power another Archmage's spells- two centuries later, and they have not yet been returned to full strength. And then, in a moment, the glossy hardwood flooring of the library erupts around a pillar of living wood, rough and brown and sprouting foliage in seconds. It reaches up, wraps around the Dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling, and bursts yet further upwards...
One year passes.
Later Adulthood
The Dust Settles; Times Have Changed
The Dust Settles; Times Have Changed
...The cost has been high; Estel is gone, Magic is gone, millions of Est'alorn are gone, most of the Principalities are gone. Instead, the Void cultists are swarming in the West, the slaves are mustering to the East, and the Yanar are a mixed bag of smug conceit and abject horror. He takes rest on the roadside, swigging down the last of a wineskin and leaning his back against a tree that he is not sure was there the last time he took this road. It could have once been a person, but he shoves the thought from his head. He should not muse on such things. He rises to his feet and mounts his horse once more. Graelle Talea- home, where he was born, and a refugee hotspot. He does not want to risk the rumours of invading savages on the Western shores; Alar Talea is gone. Graelle Talea has the next-best defenses. He digs his spurs in, and his mount takes him onward...
One-hundred and fifty years pass.
...He doesn't remember Graelle Talea being so crowded, but neither does he remember there being so many walls around it either. The Graelle Talea of his childhood was a small port city; a trading town, one of the many settlements that had at times been labelled the 'veins and arteries of Alar Talea', but now? His birthplace was considered the capital of the remaining Altalar lands, especially after the fall of many of the other major Principalities to slave revolts or other attacks. More worrying still are the words of a true Ailor Empire rising in Corontium, labelling themselves the Regalians. He remembers little of Corontium, except that there had been some exploration there and little more had been said of it. He returns to his study of the Meraic, scribbling down another symbol of their alphabet...
One-hundred and fifty-six years pass.
...The shard of Callandor glimmers in his hand. He runs his thumb over it- his only working one- tracing the pad over the single golden vine running across its exterior. The staff is shattered and destroyed, and with it, his Magic. The Silver Tear Paladin has taken a lifetime of honed skill and an heirloom of his people from him, but perhaps more pertinently, the Paladin has taken his right arm. It lays slack and without sensation upon the arm of his chair. He has sacrificed much for these Regalians, and now resolves to serve them further. He returns the shard back to its case, and takes up his quill to begin to write. Only a moment is given to reflect on it, before he sets quill against paper and begins his first Proclamation.
A few months pass.
...He stares at himself in the mirror. Aeralaanys Rhylovhas- an Elf for the lifetime of three Elves, has forsaken his old shape, perhaps his old identity entirely. Now, he is of the Url, of considerable physique and beast-like features. A set of great, curved horns sit firmly atop his stag-like head, as proud and demonstrative as he himself is. He is not sure of his new identity, all the same; is he the same as he once was, but now with arm regained? Or is there more, now, than there was only weeks ago? He does not know. Not yet. But he will.
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