The Razor's Edge
Swordmage / Thunder and Lightning
Although he finds himself on the tall spectrum of most elves, it is merely one reason why he seems to tower over a battlefield. The major reason would be his mere presence. A fierce warrior darting across a battle field leaping into the fray of enemies and charging out to rescue a fellow comrade to only vanish and reappear alongside the forgotten foes puzzles even the most intellectual of opponents.
With every swing of his longsword releases a boom of thunder throughout the air. His offhand clinches tight with bolts of lightning escaping the tight grasped openings between his fingers. Occasionally releasing it, seeming to deflect an almost perfectly placed damaging blow, with another roar of a thundercloud. Mixing the art of the sword with that of the spell, Eiraes, seems to perfectly harness the power of the storm, ravishing his opponents with prowess. Most often leaving the dying with a look of awe and confusion, with the final thoughts of the spectacle that took place, instead of their life and loved ones.
Wearing a purple leather jerkin, Eiraes appears more regal then most known elves. His color pattern often drawing more attention to others who often choose more natural, earth toned colors.
Awaking in a forest clearing located East of the Jewel River in the land ruled by the Empire of Celene, lost and distraught, he slowly regained composure. Recovering what he could of his bearings, he soon realized he wasn’t home anymore. Home no longer existed. Breaking out of that realization was quickly interrupted with the sounds of a nearby battle. Never to be the one to sit idly by while screams and warcrys pierce the air, he took to a run faster than many woodland creatures. Suddenly, he stopped. His longsword, his bonded weapon wasn’t at the side of his hip. The Lightning Weapon which was a representation of his House was missing. He put out his hand and opened his palm and called to it. Nothing. It did not return to him as it should have. Destroyed? Stolen? He didn’t have the time to investigate while a battle raged.
Coming through a dense portion of forest that abruptly ended in a clearing he saw them. The most ugly beings he has ever witnessed. Orcs. These monstrous brutes charged into the clearing, meeting another charge of graceful blurs. Elves, or _faries_¸as he enjoyed calling them. He stood on a log watching, but not involving himself. This wasn’t his fight.
Screams went out, his attention was drawn west. The terrified creatures letting out the shriek didn’t come from falling comrades, but from women and children. The nearby fairy village was being attacked without mercy. The few remaining guards were hard pressed trying to orchestrate a retreat while the bulk attacked the Orcs headstrong. It soon became clear the battle wasn’t about winning, it was about holding back the Orc advancement long enough so the others may escape.
Exactly what I tried to show his House.
By the time Eiraes came back to his surroundings he found himself running again, in the direction of the fleeing villagers. Without weapon in hand and no real plan he found his training kicking in. He punched at one Orc and the lightning he harnessed dropped the Orc as the bolt leaped away from the first taking down another nearby ugly cohort, as it turned to charge this strange elf. A third Orc witnessing the destruction of the new comer turned his back to flee, after a few steps witnessed another strange elf appear before him. It shrieked something, which could only assume it was about more elves flanking them. But it was just the one. Eiraes spent no time trying to correct him though. Another bolt came from the elf’s hand, this time pulling the confused orc closer. In awe, the beast dropped it’s weapon to only be smashed with it just a few moments later.
The nearby orcs heard the warning. As they turned to witness the show of lights and the failure of another of their brethren, they turned to flee in the opposite direction from the rest of their group. Spending little time to admire his work, he looked to the treetop canopy to witness the fearful look of one of the younger fairykin.
Hadn’t he seen that I’m here to help?
Then, the child pointed behind him. There standing, over 8 feet tall, was an even uglier being in mid swing with what appeared to be the trunk of a tree. Running and diving under the giants legs the tree smashed down in a loud shatter. What was this? He heard the answer without even speaking. Troll came a yell from his right. Looking he saw an elf warrior staring his way, looked down, and kicked up a longsword from the body of one of the fallen. The sword flew through the air as a leg sweep came group the new enemy. Leaping into the air, catching the blade and flipping it in the air, drove it down into the massive chest and out across it’s belly. He hit the ground running, for the towering shadow soon fell and smashed into the ground.
That wasn’t too hard. He smiled at the fairy to only notice he wasn’t celebrating yet. The beast crawled back up to it’s feet, his new wound closing up before his eyes. Amazed and barely taking a few feet back, the beast shrieked and flung it’s arms up. Then he could see it. Flames appeared around his feet. Looking up, he saw fireballs streaming across the field into the back of this monster. The elven warrior charged in with a burning torch, beating the devilish creature with it. It fell. This time, confident it would stay that way.
The elf motioned for him to come with the escape, but he refused. Opting to join the fight against the others in the suicide stand. His first fight next to his distant cousin would always be a milestone for him.
He helped save some of the remaining “Valiant Stand” elves, although the ones that did survive eventually split up looking to find the refugees they had fought to save that day.
Eventually settling nearby to a make shift elven outpost stationed west of the Jewel River to repel any further Orc encampment. Protecting the warriors as they engaged in combat numerous times, but never staying later then needed. He was eventually tracked down and offered a home with the nameless tribe. Comprised of elves from many different villages lost due to the Orcs growing push, he seemed to fit it. With his history already well known in the area he was eventually commissioned as a Captain and helped to lead his squadron in a few orchestrated raids against the east river.
Soon, the Orcs quit attacking altogether and after a few years of a standstill, he left and traveled the road taking up various jobs. Some jobs of personal protection and one to patrol the Low Road and defend the festival goers against bandits and thieves.