Urominiel Family

House Urominiel

Members of this house have transversed the continents looking for whatever it is warriors, nobles, knights, mentors, bureaucrats, traitors, civil servants, bounty hunters, patriots, rogues, traders, assassins, merchants, bards and the sorts look for.

Fame

Categorized to leave out exact details so not to spoil your fame hunting fun.

• Prestige-5/8
• Government Positions-8/9
• Local Positions-4/4
• Tournaments-4/4
• Class specific-4/?
• Wealth-3/3
• Construction-4/?
• Skills?-3/?
• Other-4/?
• Total Discovered-39/51

Family Tree

Active Nobles

Hithithil

Realms:Falasan
Positions:None Currently:Commoner.

Tales of the Blade

The foothills of Nazgorn have been his home since his childhood and no one knew the region better than he did. Knowing precisely where each stone lay, he walked the untainted pass that lead into the mountains, rarely used by the common traveler. Ahead on the sunlit path flanked by tall wild grasses, barely visible stood the small stone slab; The unmarked grave of his father. He was a masterful assassin, or so his mother had told him. Hithithil stood in front of the headstone, his dark hair dredged over his angular face. After a few moments, he knelt on both knees, his slim figure digging away at the dirt with his dagger. That dagger that he carried, with the blade that never dulls and the stench of blood soaked into the hilt, was one of the two things left to him by his father. His only weapon, left by the father he never knew, but yet he carried it with him always. At the sound of his dagger striking wood, Hithithil stopped and brushed aside the dirt revealing a half buried ornate chest. He looked at it for a moment, if only to ensure himself that it was still there, then pushed the dirt back over-top. He lifted himself up from his spot, fingering the key around his neck. Covering up any signs of him ever having been there Hithithil followed the path back that he came. There was a bounty on monsters skulls and with his dagger, the only item of any value on his body he would make a name for himself.

Doomed Plate Mail

The stench of death hung in the air, something was definitely afoot, or was that a hand, he couldn't be sure. Hithithil followed the tracks of decaying body part as they weaved through the sparse woodland. Lamp in one and blade in the other, he left Tinwe to pursue the hunt. His new spy glass proved useful spotting three unholy fledglings in the moonlight. He made short work as he took them by surprise and scattered their bones into the woods. Following the tainted path, the air grew thicker til it was almost a haze. Five wretched shapes stood in the distance. Once human, now disfigured in tattered rags, they advanced on him. With two quick swings, one was less an arm and the other its head. Their rusted blades glanced off his bracers as he parried their blows. A few more swings and five headless corpses lay at his feet. Their decayed state had given him the advantage and the re-animation spell obviously had a loose hold. Hithithil knew there was still some distance to cover before he would get to the source of their power.

The pale moon now hung high in the night sky, but its rays scarce in the blanketing mist. He had fought back and ambush earlier and broke vanguard lines. Now as he watched from a ledge a small undead army was gathered below. How many exactly, he was unsure as their ranks faded into the fog. But the undead champion stood only a few feet below him carrying the item which emanated unholy life. It murmured some wicked verse in a dark ritual. Hithithil fastened a rope to the near by tree and lowered it down. He slid down the rope and landed hard on the dirt. Quickly he pulled himself back up to smite down the closest undead. The wight's gaze was upon as it bellowed some ghastly war-cry. It charged towards him, its wretched form flowed in fluid motion, much quicker than the other ghouls around him. Its initial blow struck Hithithil's shoulder sending him down on one knee. If it were not for his new armour Hithithil would be less an arm, but instead he swung his blade forward glancing off the champions bronzen plate mail. Hithithil launched himself upwards into the wight's abdomen while grabbing at its legs, knocking it backwards to the ground. He stabbed wildly at the wight's chest, but its armour seemed enchanted by some dark magic. Failing to make a dent in the armour gave the unholy champion a chance to counter. It clutched Hithithil throat with decrepit fingers and thrusts its sword towards him. Hithithil rolled from the thrust and locked the Wights sword-arm in his own armpit. In a desperate attempt to free himself, Hithithil sliced across the undead's face, cutting through both cheeks. With his other hand he grasped its lower jaw and pulled tearing the decaying flesh and bone til it no longer hinged on the wights face. It shrieked an eerie screeched that echoed through the woods, but its gripped loosened enough to let Hithithil take a breath.

Hithithil scrambled to his feet, taking with him the wights free arm, torn from its socket. Holding an arm in one hand and his blade in the other, Hithithil faced off against the one-armed champion. Hithithil parried a blow with the arm and thrusts towards the wight, again unable to dent his armour. This time as the undead came around again to charge, Hithithil ducked and rolled causing the undead champion to flail and crash over-top of him. It was then we he saw it as he pulled himself up, a kink in the armour, a hilt protruding from the champions back; a single plate missing from the impenetrable suit. Hurling himself on top of the champion, Hithithil pulled the rusted dagger from its heart. The keeper of the Doomed Plate Mail let of a hiss as the dark magic escaped from it. The small undead army crumbled and sunk to the ground from which they rose. Hithithil lay on the corpse panting for breath. As he gathered himself up Hithithil held the Doomed Plate Mail, the hole of the missing plate was no where to be found.

Tales of the Blade con't

Tinwe trotted over the soft earth with each moment bringing his master closer to the intrigue that lay hidden. The mountain path was just as he had remembered it being untouched since the last time he visited. But the vivid sun no longer charted his course amongst the path flanked with grass. The gray clouds hung like an infinite ceiling stretching to the edge of the world. Their motion silent and fluid like all that moved around him. As he neared the headstone the thumping in his chest grew. Hithithil dismounted his faithful beast of burden and tied the reins around a small tree. This was unlike any other time before it, but none the less he still had to dig for his prize. He worked through the dirt with his fathers blade until he heard the familiar sound of it striking wood. Hithithil unearth the small ornate chest and placed it on the ground beside him. He slipped the key from around his neck and carefully fitted it into place.

The weather had deteriorated and the first drops of rain began to fall. His world became a monotone wash of grays as he lifted the lid. The pounding of his chest and moved up to his ears. So the rumours were true, his father was indeed as his mother had mentioned. Hithithil examined the contents of the small chest: a small dagger, a locket, a signet ring, three sacks of fine and course powder, and a few scraps of paper. He quickly looked over the papers unwilling to let his treasure be tarnished by the drizzle. A creed of some sort, a bounty list, some letter of an emerald order, an execution notice and a draw of the human form with notes scribbled onto it. Hithithil quickly tucked the letters back into chest and it into the pocket of his cloak. He threw the hood over his now dripping hair as he lifted himself off the dirt. He brushed soil into the vacated hole and left the site as if he had never been there. He cut the reins to free the horse before he himself left the path into the mountains. It was no longer safe for him here, but one day he would return to tie up some loose ends.

Thalathafn

Realms:League of Anacan, Light of Fountain, Avamar Selective, Grand Lodge of Lunaria, Lemundia, Cathay, Arcaea.
Positions:General Currently:General of Arcaea.

"Thalathafn, you have grown and matured it is time you hear how you came to be with us. You had always know we were not your birth parents. I found you some 15 years ago on a hunting trip in the forests south of Anacan. There was also a women there but she was seriously wounded and died shortly after. We took you in to our noble house and raised you as our own, now you are of age and your path is your own."

Tournament

Part I

The banners of the noble houses flew over the tournament grounds as more and more nobles arrived at the tournament grounds. Free drinks at the tavern were a regular occurance and the training areas were busy as always. The nobles showing their skill to the crowd were impressive, each one more than the last. Thalathafn looked forward to the day when he would be in the same skill class as them. But today his body was sore from the past few days of rigorous training, so it was day to visit the taverns and socialize with the other nobles. Having arrived from distant lands not to long ago, everything was still very new to him. Quietly he slipped into the tavern and awaited the next round of drinks.

Part II

It was oddly quiet today in the tavern. He could only suspect all the nobles were too busy with their training. The rounds of drinks had all but stopped, so he went for a walk. There was a rather large gathering by the training rounds but again the silence was eerie. Each stoke of blade through the crisp air could be heard clearly and the odd thunk of lance on its wooden mark and clash of steal. The on lookers marvelled at the swordsmanship displayed by each of nobles, but with their jaws hung in awe, the only sounds they could muster was an occasional ooooh and ahhhh. All eyes focused on the nobles showing their skill, the heavy breathing of the horses and riders could clearly be heard amidst the hooves. Thalathafn joined the crowd for awhile hoping to pickup some new moves while he waited for all the entertainment to be over so the nobles could speak a coherent phrase or two.

A Look into the Past

Thalathafn carefully unfolds the delicate note, the only link to the mysteries of his life. The faded entangled "U" emblem which the tournament goers informed him as belonging to the the Urominiel family crest. Could that women be his mother? Did she belong to this noble house? There were too many questions, but perhaps he would find some answers. Sure enough, the emblem on the letter match that of his decaying note. The letter read:

Thalathafn,

It saddens me to hear the tragic events of your childhood. To my knowledge there were no noble ladies of this house on that continent at that time. Although while I was recovering from my wounds in the Temple of Ossaet, I did recieve a letter. It was from a young woman, I had met her once but the name escapes me now. The timing of events make it possible that she is the women you inquire about. The letter she wrote to me claimed she was carrying my cousins child, but my poor cousin was banished from the realm as a rebel. I believe her intentions were to travel to Hatdhes after the birth to find her uncle, and together they would look for my cousin, Glorawarthien. It is possible she got into an accident enroute. Perhaps you can look for the man in Hatdhes, he may be of more help than I, all I can give are speculations.

Aralaiquendi Urominiel

A Hero is Born

The walls of Batesaor loomed in the distance as the first rays of sunlight peaked from behind the coastal city fortress. The casted silhouette of the city upon the infant dawn an imposing sight for the marshalled forces. Messengers road between the city and the armies delivering messages of slander and propaganda between the lordly nobles. Each time a new message was delivered, it was crumpled and left in the mud at the mercy of the horses hooves. "What nobles are these that cant even follow a simple code of honour", Thalathafn thought. It was ironic that he would be the one to judge other nobles of uncivilized behaviour. He quickly adjusted his armour that had shifted on the road. It would be a glorious battle ahead and he would great his enemies with respect and death with honour. Looking back at his siege engine in tow and the armies still following behind him, Thalathafn knew this would be a chance to show his valour and establish himself as a true hero.

As the walls approached Thalathafn looked around him, 100 infantry and five nobles set up in the front lines, behind them the archers and cavalry, as the rear guard the bulk of Nighthelms infantry force. This was truely the chance he hoped for, one hundred men fighting the thousands upon the walls. He ordered his men to move the siege tower closer shield themselves behind it from the hail of arrows. Six fell to the arrow storm, his unit now left at twenty pushed onward and upward through the siege tower. The other eighty infantry with no siege weaponry of their own and faced with an daunting wall of stone crowded up his siege tower as well. Now the siege tower designed for twenty was filled to its brink with a hundred men all vying for the ladders. Thalathafn pulling himself up through the mob and led the charge at the bloodied patch of wall where his siege engine was latched. The defenders were overwhelming and his unit was thrown back. The other units fell one by one, but Thalathafn was determined, he gathered his men and began another climb up the siege tower. Again they charged and were met with a thousand spears and swords. Thalathafn surged on feeling the stings of steel in the exposed areas of his armour. He tumbled from the battlements with darkness creeping upon him, as he fell he watched the Nighthelm troops advance with their siege engines and knew he did his part and demonstrated his valour given the incompetent leadership and tactics used in the siege.

A Reunion

Thalathafn pulled back on the reins causing his horse to rear to a stop from the rolling gallop. Slowly they ventured forward into the grove of trees in the foothills leading to the mountains. Raising his hands to shield his eyes from the mid-day sun, Thalathafn peered about the sides of the path that stretched forward. "I am here," he let his voice ring through the trees. Turning to sound of footsteps on his right, Thalathafn spots a man swinging out from behind a large hemlock and instantly recognized the jacket he carried in his arms. Bringing his horse around, the smile on Thalathafns face grew as the jacket drew closer, the green hues glimmering from the slick black scales. Brooklyn humbly bowed until all Thalathafn could see was his fiery red hair. Reaching up with both hands, the man offered the Jacket of Strength which Thalathafn gladly accepted and threw around his body. "One day your noble lineage will be recognized, this was fine work on the repairs" Thalathafn complimented, admiring the look of the jacket on his body.

"Thank you my lord," Brooklyn replied cheerfully, "I also have something else for you". With that, Brooklyn reaching into the plain brown sac and produced a heavy war-hammer. "An old man made it for me, he called it the Legendary Hammer of Bloodletting or something."

Thalathafn inspected the piece of weaponry, bloodstains infused into the wootz. A red and golden trim wrapped itself intricately around the head and entwined the shaft all composed of the wootz metal. Lifting it, it carried much more weight than the swords he was used to. "This is a nice find. Here is your reward" Thalathafn said as he tossed the gold coins to Brooklyn. "Now I have important matters to attend to." With that urged his horse to a gallop and left Brooklyn alone on the path through the woody grove at the foothills of the mountains.

Honour

Ahem, Thalathafn cleared his throat and stood up from his seat.

"Sorry to interrupt the entertainment, but I would like to take this opportunity to announce the new Marshal of the Field of Honour. After discussion with the Council, we have decided to award the honour of leading our valiant army to Sir Mar Crow. Sir Darius will also take over second in command."

With that Thalathafn slips the golden ring from his finger.

"This Enchanted Band of Command was gifted to me by Lars Baldersson, who had found this unique item after a battle during the war with Sartania. I will now pass this on to our new Marshal Crow and hope that one day he may pass it onto his successor. Now I will let you all return to the entertainment."

Thalathafn gestured to the front, while taking his seat at the table near the back of the great hall. While all eyes peered forward in amusement, his own focused on the half empty plate on the table. He had nearly killed a young girl today, and for what? Honour? Til this day he had held honour in the highest regard, but until this day he had never had to kill in its name, at least not like this. The battlefields were different, they were soldiers, their faces only a blur in his memory. He had to turn away as she layed there dying. Those few seconds pervading his consciousness. Thalathafn threw back his drink as the feast continued around him.

To Chase a Wisp

Thalathafn gently road along the country side. Fields of golden wheat flanked his path. It was high time in the harvest season and while the peasantry were busy, they were grateful for the bounty of the fields. This was evident by the festivities that night in the town square. Corn roasting on an open fire beside a bubbling communal stew. Fresh baked breads burdened baskets and simplistic but uplifting music sounded into the night. Thalathafn watched somewhat envious as the young couples danced in the moonlight. The commoners lived hard and mundane lives, but yet they enjoyed what he could not.

The harvest moon hung aloft in clear autumn sky but its overbearing presence seemed within arms reach. The scattered moonbeams casting soft shadows and waltzing silhouettes. As Thalathafn eyed the pirouetting partners, he caught a glimpse of her harvest gold hair. He had thought she was gone since the tournament. He remained, watching her from a far, but this was different she didn't vanish as she had before. Finally he dismounted and pushed his way through the dancers. He grabbed her on the shoulder pulling the startled young girl around to face him. Using his sword arm, he pushed away the lad that had tried to confront him. "I apologize, I had mistaken you for someone else." While the girls features were similar, she was clearly not who had been appearing to him. A piercing glance over his shoulder kept the other peasants back. "I am sorry to disturb everyone's night." He turned to the girl and bowed. As he did so, he noticed a glint hanging from her neck; a locket. "May I?" he asked the speechless girl, still in shock of everything going on around her. He lifted the locket with the hilt of its sword, the symbol engraved on the front matched that of his scabbard. Whatever the locket held was worn beyond recognition, but engraved within was a note of some sort. It read:

   Miss me not, my faithful fairest.
   Let darkness creep and shadows caress.
   For nightly in our sweet slumber,
   Drifting endlessly together,
   Forget me not, my darling dearest.

"Where did you get this" Thalathafn questioned the now trembling girl.

"..M..my aunt, sir" the girl mumbled. The excitement in Thalathafn grew, this was what he had been searching for; The link, his dear mother.

"Where is she now?!" Thalathafn asked unaware of the growing number of pitchforks and torches accumulating behind him.

"Gone.."

"Gone?! gone where?"

"Missing.." the girl stuttered, now in tears "Since before my birth," she sniffed. "I have worn this since a baby"

Thalathafn awoke to sudden realization, he had driven a young women to tears chasing something long lost in the sands of time. Not more than a fortnight earlier he had killed another over a few insults. He also noticed the gathering crowd armed with farm tools. Well this was certainly a predicament.

Annaej

Realms:Sandalak(SWI), Kingdom of Alluran
Positions:High Marshal, Duchess Currently:Duchess of Eno.

Dauntless

The early rays of light warmed the frost on the grass fields drawing forth a blanket of myst over the lowlands of Ovujemeh. Annaej with her dark golden hair sat up stern in her smoke gray horse as scout reports trickled in from all directions. As a child she was taxed with a heavy burden, to remain steadfast staring into the face of death and purge of land of its curse. All the years of training had made her what she is today, undaunting yet compassionate. The tainted soil of the monster isle was where she belonged to defend the lands from the walking dead and to find her brother, Elenhir, and put him to rest. To lift the curse on all the living dead, was her destiny. The people of Ovujemeh were scared, she could sense it, but soon they would have nothing to fear. Once they learn, the sight of Alluran banners flapping in the wind will be welcomed with open arms. They no longer needed to fear a plague across the land.

The Holy Alluran Army

Eight hundred plus bodies were tossed into the ocean as Annaej watched through the spyglass. There was nothing she could do, there was nothing anyone could do. The city simply did not have enough food and when food arrived the peasents ate without any sense to ration food for the hard days ahead. Annaej handed the spyglass off to her aid and motioned to the soldiers to put out the signal fire as she made her way back from the edge of the stone pier. "Keep an eye out on the water for any who have gained unfavourable judgement from Alluran," She said to the captain as she walked passed one of the gatehouses to the harbour. She paid little attention to the suffering in the streets, saved for the ones that looked too dead to still be alive, but the adventurers should take care of them if they wanted part of the bounty.

As they reached her estate, she sent an aid ahead to prepare 100 gold for the war chest. The army would be on the move again soon, but it would be under a new name. Ten riders from her estate were out front to greet her. She sent them away two by two with a the names of nobles assigned to the new army. The Holy army of Alluran; Ten of Eno's finest knights, sooned to be joined by knights from Brovyl and Xween. Annaej motions to the few remaining riders,"Inform all the trainers and blacksmiths within the realm that the war chest in Eno will be paying for the training and repairs of everyone in the Holy Alluran Army."

"May Alluran guide his army to bring his judgement over the land."

First Encounter

The allied forces awaited the coming onslaught upon the grassy field, rank upon rank of infantry and companies of archer nervous for their first encounter with Daimons. Annaej on her stallion paced back and forth infront of her unit as a heavily armoured man approached. Although she could not see his face behind the helmet, she knew who it was, it was just a feeling she had. He nodded as he passed by to take command of the small raggedy unit beside hers. She smiled back and took comfort in knowing that she had finally found her brother and that he would be there to watch over her in the oncoming battle.

Storms clouds formed in the distance blocking out the sun signaling the approach of the Daimon army. The faint reddish hue that reflected off the clouds grew deeper as a rumble in the distance was heard. The horses, uneasy, reared and jostled the riders in their saddle but the steadfast soldiers held their ground and clutched their weapons tighter. Their forms grew in the distance, not unlike that of monsters, towering and jagged. But unlike monsters their bodies were covered with patches of the fiery liquid that birthed them. As they drew closer their vile stench became apparent. The daimons shrieked a warcry which pierced the very soul of those on the field as they charged into the defenders ranks.

In one fluid motion Annaej let the daimonic blade glide off her shield and drove her sword into its underarm. As soon as she pulled her sword free, ten halberds gutted the abomination and heaved it towards the rear ranks. The daimons blood marred the very earth where it spilt and scared the flesh of the defenders as many daimons fell in the initial wave. The second and third knocked Annaej from her horse and the poor beast was swiftly torn apart by fiery claws. A few brave souls plunged their halberds into the daimons standing over Annaej giving her enough time to get back to her feet only to get knocked down again by another blow. The human line was waivering, her own unit was being pushed back by the daimons stepping over her. Only a few units held their ground, now overrun by the daimon advance, fighting without fear.

Annaej crawled along the muddied field, the once green grass now scorched black and some still burning. She got closer to her brothers unit, now surrounded by daimons but undaunted they fought with an unholy fervor. Rotting limbs exposed from their battered armour and on some bony stumps where limbs once existed, but so long as they could wield their weapon they surged on. She rose slowly gazing in disbelief having only discovered that she had fought along side what she sought to cleanse from the world.

Before she knew it she was back on the ground, this time Elenhir, propped up on all fours looking down at her. His face flinched in agony. Annaej looked down to see the blade protruding from his abdomen. No soon had she looked back up to see his face sink and his hair flittering down from his scalp. His skin wrinkled and peeled back revealing the rotting flesh underneath as he broke into a maniacal laughter decaying into a muffled murmur then silence. His bloodied corpse collapsed ontop of her, the unholy aura that gave it life dissipated. The daimon gave another thrust and Annaej felt a sharp pain followed by darkness.

Breathing deeply and clenching her sheets Annaej awoke petrified, staring into the ceiling of her tent, half expecting it to be torn out from the ground. But there was no reddish glow from the heavens, only the soft moonlight. Regaining her composure Annaej reached for her sword and called for the maid to help her with her armour. The sentries still in their post but the first units were already preparing to move. The men were anxious as they gathered their supplies. No doubt a clash with the daimons will be different from anything they had ever seen but the allies had marshaled a mighty army, one that can rival any through the history of the continent. Annaej mounted her horse and lead her unit to join the column of Alluran forces marching to Ardmore.

Nnoaj

Realms:Sirion, Pian en Luries
Positions:none Currently:none

To Escape

Nnaoj felt the sense of urgency as she hurried through the streets of Ashforth. Perhaps she was not too late, she thought. Her unit was already stationed atop the battlements with the Rancaguan troops waiting for the Fontanese attack. She rushed towards the generals quarters in time to catch a glimpse of Elenaraloki and his command staff leaving for the battle. She knew the odds were against them as they prepared to defend the Eleador capital from the combined might of Oligarch and Perdan. The horns and battle cries signaled the onslaught as she climbed to the top of the battlements. The enemies poured over the breached fortifications in a blur passing over her as she drifted through the melee. Finally she saw him, pierced with half a dozen arrows but still valiantly holding the section of wall his unit was to defend. Moving through suspended time she brushed aside the slings and arrows and made her way towards him. But she was too late. Kneeling beside her beloved she kissed his lips in a moment which seems like forever as the warmth faded from them.

she opened her eyes to the cries of an infant and a smell of incense. The air heavy and the room glowed with an orangish hue. The hooded dark figures stood over her, silently, their faces hidden. They motioned for her to rise and chanting an unknown passage led her, as she stumbled away from the bloodied stone pedestal. The next room was much larger with sandstone pillars running up the irregular walls. At the far end rays of light pierced the smoke of the incense that emanated from the black orbs hanging from each pillar. Under each oillet, stood a small figure cloaked in yellow. As she drew closer, one of the figures leaped forward, throwing back her yellow hood and revealing a young girl. Nnoaj knelt down on one knee and brushed the tears from the girls face, looping her hair behind her ears. Leaning her forehead against the child's, Nnaoj whispered, "I know" as she closed her own eyes and let a tear roll down her cheek.

The re-occurring dreams of that battle she hadn't had for many years but having to fight upon those battlements and seeing the complacent Sirion nobility once again had brought them flooding back. Even now as those events are passed and far away they still grip her with their tendrils and remain fresh in her mind.

Deceased or Retired

Glorawarthien

Realms: Sirion, Assassins, Plergoth, Arcaea, Svunnetland, Soliferum, Antoza Commonwealth, Grand Lodge of Lunaria, Nighthelm, Toren, Kingdom of Alluran.
Positions: Count, Battlegroup commander, Duke, Former Prime Minister. Currently: Deceased, Executed in Falasan.

The eldest son from the minor nobility family in Sirion. Glorawarthien joined the Sirion army to bring fame and glory to the Urominiel Family. However, following the death of his brother and seeing the fruits of war, Glorawarthien chose a life of infamy.

His Story

Elenaraloki

Realms:Eleador
Positions:Former Archpriest, Royal Treasurer, High Marshal, Battlegroup Commander
Currently: Deceased, died as a hero on the battlements of Ashforth.

The second born of the Urominiel Family, Elenaraloki journeyed north and found a home and a family in Eleador. Following acts of bravery and heroics he quickly rosed through the ranks to become a hero of the realm. He died the way he had lived, defending the capital as hero and high marshal of Eleador.

His Story

Aralaiquendi

Realms:Abington, Antioch, Fronen, Ikalak(SWI), Ikalak(SEI), Silantin, Yssaria, Arcaea, Sirion
Positions:Former Prime Minister of Ikalak(SEI), Former Marquis
Currently: Retired to the family mansion in Clyderee on Atamara.

Born on Atamara, Aralaiquendi is a cousin to Glorawarthien and Elenaraloki. Like his parents, his wanderlust had lead him to many new lands and rewarded him an eventful life. He has since retired to the family mansion but occasionally dabbles in the affairs of his nieces and nephews.

Gwaethinriel

Realms:Carelia, Voghor, Sandalak(SEI), Highland Empire, Kaltaran, Sartania, Perdan, Ikalak(SEI), Vlaandaran
Positions:High Marshal Currently:Deceased.

Gwaethinriel, first born of Aralaiquendi, was left by her father in the care of foster parents shortly before the first invasion. Raised in the wake of the undead plague, her childhood was deprived of all the norms. Gwaethinriel developed a hatred for her father and nobility in general.

Her Story

Celegam

Realms:Arcaea, Ethiala
Positions:None Currently:Retired Troop Leader, Merchant in Topenah.

Celegam is a son of Aralaiquendi. After the death of his mother in the stormy seas of the Far East, Celegam spent most of his childhood as an orphan. As he matured he was selected to serve as a Blade of the Patriach in Arcaea but following a serious wound he has since retired to a mundane life of trading.

His Story

Elenhir

Realms:Old Rancagua, Falasan, Yssaria, Midas Chia, Rogue, Old Grehk, Sandalak(SWI), Taselak(SEI), Ashborn, Outer Tilog, Ibladesh.
Positions:Dictator and Executor Currently:Under the control of a Necromancer.

The first son of Elenaraloki and Nnaoj. Elenhir had been trained at a military academy since the passing of his father at an earlier age. When he became of age, he began down the path to reclaim his father's glory, a path that has since gone horribly awry.

His Story

Menelmereth

Realms:Ibladesh, Cagilan Empire, Riombara, Lasanar, Miraglonn.
Positions:Duchess and Queen Currently:Deceased, Executed in Lasanar.

Menelmereth was the first bastard child to Glorawarthien. To escape from her mother, Menelmereth had found sanctuary in the Church of Ibladesh. She had committed most of her short and uneventful time as a troop leader teaching newer nobles before meeting her ultimate end trying to bring peace to the lands.

Her Story

Children

not yet of age

Cecelle

Realms:Ethiala.
Positions:None Currently:Missing.

Celegam and Ellewen Frantically searched Topenah city, "Cecelle!" they called. "Where could have that child gotten off to, shes a young women now, she cant just go running around the streets everytime we are in a city, has she no etiquette. I did not mind when she was younger and wanted to play with the boys and their wooden swords, I just thought she would have grown out of it by now." Celegam reassured Ellewen as they continued their search through the city streets.