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[Princeton 395]

     Saeldur limped aimlessly in the forest, voices barring through his head as the apparent Mali’Aheral would helplessly attempt to cover his ears before lifelessly crashing into a tree and proceedingly to the floor. Since the Kal’Varak, Rasha was never quite the same. The mental effects of the Kal’Varak coupled with a difficult life meant many troubled memories for Saeldur. It did not help soon after being indoctrinated into Xionism by a Wraith, learning the forbidden art of Necromancy before ultimately deciding to reverse the tether with aid and go into hiding. Voices, confusion, and complete madness filled the once Kharajyr’s mind. A mastery of mental magic helped the now High Elf cope with his mental torment, but moments of thoughtless madness still creeped its way into the tortured mind of Saeldur, especially when Kharajyr were around. Being hunted as an Ape’Kharajyr practicing voidal magic for almost a century brought Saeldur a strong disdain for the religious zealots and master race of Metztli.

 

A. Smith - Imperator Guides - High Elves Tactica - Special

 

 

 

     Metztli, Mother of the Kharajyr and a tempermental Daemon in her own right, watched in complete disgust as her once child shedded her perfect creation, and in her opinion, turned himself into a monster and disgrace. Turning his back on the race she had specifically created in her own image, the Daemon could no longer watch in silence as her forbidden son roamed the lands of Atlas, even bold enough to declare another Mali’Aheral of his own kin. The enraged Goddess decided that the madness the Kal’Varak inflicted was not enough torment for her lost child, and punishment was necessary since the Kharajyr of the land had not avenged their Mother. Despite turning her back on the Kharajyr in Athera, Metztli was still a Daemon, and when the irate Daemon decided Saeldur had seemingly finally managed to live a relatively normal life, excluding moments of mental lapses; she decided this simply could not be tolerated.

 

     As Saeldur lay writhing on the floor, convulsing in between sputters of breath and muffled curses, the Mali’Aheal would suddenly begin to shrink. Screaming would drown out all other sounds of the forest, Saeldur’s limbs contorting at an impossibly odd and horrifying angle as the now bidpal begin to have bones accustomed to predatory jungle cats forcibly molded into his skeletal frame. Ear curdling clicks of bones snapping into place intermingled with Saeldur’s blood curdling howling would continue as  fur as dark as the night sky would begin to aggressively form in mottled patches on the skin of the mutating Elf before solidifying into a full coat, and that is the last Saeldur could remember before blacking out unconscious. It took quite some time before Saeldur awakened, by chance an old and bearded farmer riding a cart hitched to two equally grizzled horses found himself poking the limp body covered in brightly blue robes riddled in mud next to a tree.  The day was sunny and warm, and nothing unusual plagued the life of the simple farmer as he slowly made his way to Caras Eldar on the simple and unadorned cart.  The farmer would make an asserting click, the two veteran horses slowly trotting to a stop before the farmer would slowly dismount from the cart and grab a gnarled oaken quarterstaff to aid his declining frame. While nothing except a tail was visible from below the hem of his robes, the lifeless body of Saeldur squirmed once more, pain as sharp as knives stabbing through every bone of his body. Dizziness confounded by confusion struck the form of Saeldur as hard as a cudgel between the eyes, and his dry mouth could not even begin to form words.

 

After reaching the mysteriously wiggling robes, apparently producing sputtering of muted pain faintly from within, the farmer would reach into a pouch and produce a leather water skin. A shaken and visibly distraught Saeldur managed to free his head through the neck of his robes, inhaling a sharp breath of fresh air before his eyes would quickly shift to farmer. It took several odd long moments for Saeldur to gain a grasp on reality before realizing he could not see details of the farmers face and clothing, but  the ungodly scent of the farmer was amplified within his nose with notable accuracy. Merely trying to gain his feet, Saeldur outstretched a han- Utter shock and panic gripped Saeldur at what he could feel connecting to a tree beside him; A paw as black as midnight with thick and deadly claws gripping bark. As almost a reactionary movement, Saeldur would next move his free.. Paw to his face, finding a protruding snout with youthful white whiskers lining its outside alongside the same consistent sleek fur that seemed to cover the rest of once again newly acquired frame. It took only a few more seconds of frantically running his paws over his body before the Kha’Pantera would begin vomiting and going to collapse and pass out once more, though this time due to a combination of both shock and pain.

 

     Saeldur began to awaken to the sound of a crackling fire and accompanied by a noisy whistle of a cast iron teapot alerting its owner that the water was boiling, and Saeldur quickly attempted to scan his surroundings, met with utter failure. He resorted to raising his newly acquired snout to the air, noticing his hearing seemed to more acute as well. The scent of roasting deer filled his nostrils as his long tongue salivated in his predatory mouth. Saeldur was in a small and cozy hut, attended by a short and homely elderly women wbo was calmly preparing two cups of tea, leaving one and aside and gliding over to Saeldur’s laying frame and bringing the cups to his lips, “Drink,” She would say in emotionless yet commanding tone, clearly a women used to giving orders and being obeyed. After Saeldur quickly gulped down the sweet tea eagerly, he could not refuse from asking,

 

“Where am I, llir?” Though what was uttered was entirely different, and sounded more like “Where awm I, lee’lyr?”

 

“Outside Caras Eldar, inside my very own luxurious home,” A motherly smile would settle over her wrinkled features, emitting a wry chuckle, “I tend to some of the villagers when they need any medical aid. Sickness, broken bones, and other minor injuries mostly... When Peter brought you in, you were screaming and wriggling as though you had just been struck by Iblees himself. I’ve seen many injuries in my day, Cat, and I could not manage to find a single thing wrong with you. And I figured you lived without sight for quite some time now.”

 

“Cawt?” Saeldur would reply incredulously before covering his mouth, thinking yesterday's previous events must have been some sort of terrible nightmare. Running his paws over his body, Saeldur felt the same sleek coat, ears, paws, snout, and tail of a Kha'Pantera. 

   

 Metztli, perhaps in a form of her own twisted joke, reverted Saeldur into everything he worked his entire life to shed and so thoroughly hated with every fiber of his being. Instead of the towering and lithe Mali’Aheral with pale features and platinum hair, Metztli decided on the dark black coat of a Kha’Pantera, additionally giving him their traditional short stature and unextraordinary frame. Topping it off were his new eyes; Despite the youthful Kha'Pantera frame Metztli amusingly endowed upon Saeldur, two gray eyes that would seem oblivious the world around him would replace the now Elf's acute vision. Saeldur spent many days within the hut resting and gathering strength, once again having to adjust back to his Kharajyr body and loss of his eyesight. After finally gaining enough energy and practice to walk with the aid of the gnarled oaken quarterstaff the farmer decided the Kharajyr needed more, Saeldur set back out into the world of Atlas.

 

Panther Necromancer by Adamantine Scythedra - DeviantArt

 

(( This post essentially explains a character change I want to make for my character, Saeldur Asul’Ailer. Saeldur was previously known as Rasha before entering the Varak with  the aid of Elindor and Crumena in Anthos, coming out as a Mali’Aheral and adopting their culture and lifestyle as his own for quite some time. I figured Metztli, a particularly wrathful Daemon with the ability to create a master race, would not take lightly to one of her own spawn utilizing this artifact and living so long with little consequences excluding some small mental illness. Metztli, as a form of her own joke, turned Saeldur into everything he had grown to despise. Instead of appearing a wisened Mali’Aheral, Metztli decided to turn Saeldur into the youthful frame of a Kha’Pantera, perhaps the exact opposite of a High Elf. Saeldur will be able to retain all of his voidal magics through the switch, though his physical frame will be weakened as he adjusts to the frame of a Kharajyr once more. Additionally, Saeldur will fall into a deeper state of despair at having his sight and hard work stripped from him through a horribly painful process, perhaps worse than the Kal'Varak or anything else he has experienced in life ))

Edited May 2, 2018 by Princeton

[Geo 1415]

Proud of you, boy.

[GodEmperorFlam 3447]

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[Delmodan 851]

This Lore has been denied.

 

Unfortunately this lore has been denied. While the lore itself is fine, a majority of the team do not believe in allowing for personal lore to be written that has this level of divine intervention.

 

Topic moved to Denied Lore forum.