Allow me to introduce
Jasera Dil'Sul.
Jasera Dil'Sul Background
It was the treachery of men that laid the foundation for the difficult life she would lead.
A small community of elves lived in the forest of Calen, the Green Glade. There the proud House Faroth and the noble House Thirildin ruled the small elven township. To the north, across the Valley of Marill along the foothills of the twin peaks Whitefang and Perilous, was the human town of McKellor. Sizable by local standards but small nonetheless, McKellor housed an army of good size and renown, stocked with veterans of the Black Wars across the Plains of Etam.
During the peak of summer, a long and relentless drought in the Thellish Fields sent hordes of vile creatures in search of water and food, and eventually to McKellor's doorstep. Within days, the town was besieged by the foul abominations. McKellor had always enjoyed a good relation with Calen, their trade was plentiful and beneficial to both communities. So, when war beckoned and loomed over the horizon like an impending storm, McKellor asked for help. Calen replied with the offer of an archer company, all of the Faroth line, and a unit of fearsome Thirildin swordsmen. The human town was insulted.
They resubmitted their request and clarified it to show that what they
really wanted were weapons of quality; elven blades that never lost their edge and finely crafted yew bows who helped even the blind strike true. The elves of the forest were more than willing to assist in the defense of their allies with the soldiers they had offered, but they refused to be downgraded to the level of "arms merchant". The decline of the weapon request and the second offering of military help to the human town were like a slap in the face. On that day, communication between the two races ceased. The townsfolk spent nearly ten years painfully extracting the invaders from their land without the help of anyone, especially from the elves. The battles left McKellor scarred, but it also left its residents with other notable things... experience, pride, and the taste of victory. The silent standoff with the elves lasted until the end of the war and only shortly afterward.
No more than a year of peace was allowed to pass before McKellor declared war on Calen as an outlet for the torturing, inescapable feeling of having been abandoned, and thus began the War of the Hells. The army of McKellor, though only slightly larger than their elven counterpart, was now a battle-hardened force with a lust for war.
"War is a disease of Men with a disastrous effect... for it is only those who survive that become poisoned by it." -Saliir Mor'Faroth, High Lord of House Faroth, Calen
The poison of anguish and entitlement filled the blood of men and rotted their minds with the need to destroy. Learned from the beasts they had slain, the invaders brought Balrog's Blood, a substance (
much like Greek fire) that burned intensely and was very difficult to extinguish. The attack was deadly and effective. The rain of fire killed many of the elves and burned much of the enclave. The army of Calen retaliated bravely and fought remarkably well, causing more damage than the human commanders would have ever expected from so badly beaten a foe. But the Balrog's Blood was impossible to defend against and within twenty days, the elven town was scattered as its residents fled to the trees. So it remained this way for the next 200 years.
The small tribes slowly lost their skill of craft and gift of artistry, their peace and their grace. The elves, already called
wild by the citizens of McKellor, began to lurk in the trees and bushes, stalking those foolish enough to risk the danger of the Green Glade. They conducted well-planned ambushes on army patrols stationed in Tir Barad, the Great Watchtower that McKellor had built on the Valley of Marill to oversee the former elven lands. Tir Barad was situated in the center of a wide, flat stretch of rolling gold and green grassland that separated the human town and the edge of the forest.
Then came the birth of Jasera Thirildin, direct heiress to the High Lord of House Thirildin. Destined to claim her rightful place at the House's seat and unite the elves against the rule of McKellor, Jasera was to be trained in the craft of her family; the deadly skill of the blade, and the cunning art of tracking prey.
While young Jasera (then barely two years old) was cared for by her mother, Anneline, her father, Lord Korinam Thirildin, continued to lead raids and ambushes on the human town, its surrounding settlements and unsuspecting caravans. It was not long before his actions came under the notice of Tir Barad. One week before his daughter's fifth birthday, an ambush he had planned on a human patrol was revealed as a trap. Korinam and his group fought relentlessly but they were outnumbered and soon dispersed. Regretfully, some of his force returned to their homes instead of the assigned meeting place; even worse, they were followed by skillful McKellor rangers. The location of the Thirildin village was discovered and a force was summoned from Tir Barad to deal with them. The army massacred nearly everyone, with only a handful of elves escaping the violent and vengeful soldiers. Korinam stealthily approached the burned and ravaged remains of his small hamlet, and avoiding the few guards that were dispatched to secure the ruins, made his way to his home. Carefully sneaking in, he silently prayed to the lost gods as he approached a hidden door in the floor of his home. There he found his wife, Anneline, dead. Though badly wounded, she had somehow managed to elude capture and make her way to their safe room. In her hands, an answer to Korinam's prayers rested; his sleeping daughter.
Korinam took her and fled the ruined town. At full speed he rode across the forest day and night until he reached his destination, the Grove of the Druid Gora'Moorg, a satyr (
of all things), but a noble person and good friend of House Thirildin. With him, Korinam entrusted the care and raising of his daughter, knowing that her safety would be jeopardized should she remain with the elven rebel. Making the most difficult decision of his life, Korinam departed without his daughter, thanking Gora for his priceless oath and vowing some day to return for his daughter. Gora immediately knew that in order to ensure the safety of his young ward, he would need to change her name. Jasera Dil'Sul awoke the next day, with no clue of her past.
One hundred and thirteen years have passed. Gora'Moorg has long since departed this world and Jasera has kept to the Grove ever since, awaiting the return of her father. Too much time has passed, however, and she now seeks to find him instead. The only thing she has to represent her House is the emerald pendant shaped like a dagger; a keepsake of her father's that she will never part with.
Gathering her equipment and supplies, Jasera bids the animals and protectors of the Grove farewell and embarks on a journey that will change her life and alter her future. She mounts Sulream, her tamed white horse, and lurches forward. Onward she rides through the glistening green veil, tempting fate and charging blindly into the unknown. It was not long before she caught word of a group of brigands who had captured an important elven noble and were auctioning him off to the highest bidder. The sale was taking place in Iskander, the largest human town known.
Briefly, against her better judgment and her innate instinct, Jasera would need to sheath her disdain and prejudice of the weak, untrustworthy human race, and try to integrate herself with the town. She was destined to know who they had captured- was it her father- and where he was. Pulling her hood up over her face, she entered the sprawling metropolis, searching for a string of wool in a flock of sheep, as the elven saying went.
