King Elmdùin Ethardine

King of Siossein and Lord of the Houses Elmdùin (a.k.a. Ganathair (Fatherless), Ethardine (Father of Men)

Son of Edghar Oakenchair and his kidnapped bride Iorla of the line of Gamelin's son Halvin. Elmdùin would voyage across the western sea to find his mother and in doing so, would help found the great kingdom of Siossein with the aid of the Faen prince Ealen Eorglaw.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Elmdúin bore physical scars, remnants of battles fought, and wounds endured, yet they only served to reinforce his appearance as a proud and courage defender of his people. His gaze exuded a quiet authority and this drew many to him. Elmdúin's physical condition was that of a seasoned warrior and leader, displaying both the marks of his experiences and the enduring spirit that drove him forward.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Among the tribe of Halvin came a little girl, loved tenderly and loved dearly, she was named Iorla, for the sea called to her and she called to the sea. Each morning, as the day rose, the little Fiadari girl sailed west in a canoe of fallen bark, each day atop the bobbing and moving water. Until one day, a great wind of the east came, and the little girl's raft was sent back to the sea. The child was brought to tears, for how could she come to the sea without it? Sitting there she wept, she cried, and flailed as children do when what they love is taken from them. Little Iorla learned then that all things end, and all goodness dies to remind us what goodness was. Yet so too did little Iorla now know that badness dies also, for suffering must cease, pain dulls and seeps away, heartbreak teaches the heart and makes it stronger. When the tears went away, little Iorla felt better, in order to feel the pains and pleasures of the world, sometimes all one needs to be reminded of is that they can cry.
As the tides came and went, ebbing back and forth eternal, little Iorla was not so and came to be a woman, strong in heart thanks to a life of tears and joy. The day began like any other, a frost was in the air as the world began to grow darker and cooler. The birds in the sky sang songs, and the animals galloping among the dirt went on with their day. The silence of the world was broken by shouts and screams, as the sky darkened, the birds ceased their songs and all animals fled. Ships were spotted near the shore, ships of hard timber, rowed by men haughty and broad-chested. For they had come for plunder and ruin and death, they had come and smashed the boats and canoes resting peacefully by the shore. Wide was their walk and proud did they strut, for they had cold steel by their hip and rings of mail as their shirts. For all knew the old words, silver for the maid, copper for the craftsman, gold for the lord, and cold iron for the victor, for cold iron was master of all. The head of their number strode forth, proudest and vainest as he hailed all who came forth, he was Edghar Oakenchair, son of Aeswalin the Wild. The proud warrior chief came and bid the men and women of Halvin's line to issue forth their due to him, their better. Gold did not grace their fingers, nor did they find any harvest or haul to satisfy greedy fingers. All they could offer was fair Iorla, for she was most prized among them. Cries rang out, pleas and begging, but the men on the ships did not hear them, they only walked back to the shore, plump and satisfied.
Iorla was given to Edghar, hostage and captive, as her people were put to the torch and the sword. Yet the deeds of the wild Fiadari men were heard by the righteous, for Eogana had heard of them and heard of what they had done. Gathering all the sword grippers, and shield breakers she could muster, she rallied her people to seek justice for the lowly people of Halvin. In the night they came, like a whisper, as they awoke, the Fiadari raiders saw only fire and blood, for death came swiftly then. When Eogana herself strode forth to treat with the Oakenchair, he already lay dead, his head near his body. Yet Edghar was not alone in his final moments, for two were brought before Eogana, a woman and a babe cowering and shivering, and she pitied them. The Arigrani chieftess welcomed the pair and they came to dwell with them. This was Elmdùin and Eogana and his mother came to guide him as he grew. The boy came to grow into a strong and noble man, he was victorious against all in every game played in the land of the Arigrani. In running, leaping, spear casting, horse racing, and throwing stones he was unbeaten. The youth of the Arigrani came to be jealous of him and mocked him, he was called Ganathair, the Fatherless. However, Eogana's noble sons defended their foster brother and so none spoke ill of Elmdùin when they drew near. One day, an envious boy named Aelin told lies to Elmdùin, telling him of how he had heard that the wise man Nuran had discovered the whereabouts of Elmdùin's father and wished to tell him. Elmdùin, eager and restless, strode quickly to the hut of the wise Nuran who saw the desire in the boy's eye and grew to pity him.
For Nuran had seen a vision for Elmdùin yes, but of no father, but of a dark island shrouded and covered in mystery. An island that called out to him and to his kin, for when man was young and destiny still beholden to the will of the gods, a great shaking occurred before the first day of the risen sun. From the depths of the sea, a land was born, a land unshackled by the folly of man and giant and fae, a land where the warmth of the setting sun burned away all vanity and all sin and purified all atop it. All atop the rugged soil was good and all that lived there did so in peace. This was the great island of Siossein, the pillar of the west, and the cherished homeland for a people who would one day arrive by ship at her coast.
This was the vision shared with Elmdùin, but also told was of a figure atop the cliffs, a figure whom Elmdùin understood was his father, his long lost father now returning to him. Elmdùin wished and wished greatly that this shadowed dream would come to be, and so during the night, he began preparing to sail to the west, beyond the raging sea and to a land of paradise. Yet that night, so too did Iorla come to be restless, for she knew the same restlessness in older times. The call of the sea had been heard, by two souls, and yet only one could make the journey. As Elmdùin made preparations, his mother came to him and embraced him with a tenderness belonging to two who know what is to come.

"My son, I am here to love you, but I cannot protect you from the world" spoke Iorla, eyes welling with tears. "It will not be easy, for me it never has, my arms tire, my back is stiffened, my hands ache. But all for you, for darkness comes you will have my light, my love to warm you, and my heart to guide you."

In silence, they came and embraced for the last time before dawn came and the voyage began. It began with a set-off, a proud and joyful cheer came out as the ship of Iorla's son departed for the call of the sea had come to him, as it did for her once.
In two pairs did they come, riding the waves atop their water steeds, men from the east, from the mainland who had wandered through fire and hell to come to a land of plenty. Yet the second pair of ships were filled with strangers, lost souls cast into the world, as wandering as the men whom they journeyed with. Man and Fae came then, to Siossein in the west as a prayer was sung in old days of a safe haven for the long-beleaguered men, a land of their own to live and till until the day when the sun and moon fell from the sky and the world choked on the smoke of the final day. Long was the way, and fraught with trouble and tribulation, yet on a clear night, a star above danced and twirled, guiding men to a new beginning, a new home. In partnership was he, Elmdùin the Sea Weaver, with one of the western strangers, the sailors who had journeyed across the plain between realms, Ealen Eorglaw prince of the Mainar. Long too was the path for the Dawnbringer, atop his ship Leothec he plowed through the raging waves of the sea, and with this great star as his guide, he found new lands untouched by man, giant, or fae. Across the long gray sea, from the east to the west did the sea horses of Elmdùin and Ealen march, on which lay the dreams and hope of the Fiadari, and those of Ealen's Mainar. Of the hallowed shores did they dream of, white and pristine, untouched and unspoiled. The air there seemed lighter now, without the blanket stink of death and dreariness. And upon the first light of the day, the land was spotted glimmering and shining as elegant as the moon upon the brightest night.
When the bow touched the first sands, the hunched back of the elderly cracked at once and they stood upright. The unhearing child, burden left them and they began to hear the elegance of nature for the first time in this sacred land. The warrior, who had known a life of grueling times and dripping blood, dropped their sword as they gazed atop the white cliffs for the first time. A song seemed to hold in the air that day, in that hour when the ships did land. The promise made to them seemed fulfilled, for they had come upon what seemed virgin land, untouched by all vices. Yet these thoughts dissipated, and quickly then did it become clear that their ideas seemed childish, a dream or a story told in the night before sleep. Those who gazed atop the white cliffs, saw six figures atop them staring back at the masses. High above the new arrivals, six Darakin, those who dwelled upon Seiossein on the first day, spied their new arrivals and a shutter came upon them, for they had been found by men and fae. When those who saw them raced atop the cliffs, the Darakin scattered into the trees and bramble, hidden from the gaze of men. And yet, one among the number of men called out, for they were lost from the rest, they called out in a loud voice

A bhráithre, cá ndeachaigh sibh

"Brothers, where have you gone"

and then they received no answer for none were there to give it. Yet the Darakin heard then the worry in the voice of the lost and came down from their trees and bramble, to aid a lost soul, for before all, they were good. Youngest among their number, ageless to men but youngest of them, came to the lost sailor and spoke in their own tongue,

Mlemda, dharaiul chaci vuen deih gan ghakhomn,

"No brothers here, but we shall find them for you."

And so they did, and men came to find that their island paradise was not solely inhabited by the fish, the deer, and the birds in the sky but by those that lived and breathed and walked as they did. Yet before all troubles to come, before all pain and blood rang out, there on the beach and atop the cliff, the three races met and spoke. None could understand the unclad, grey-skinned women before them, but all were struck by their voices, such never heard before or since, for they were unplagued by the worries and anxieties of death or pain or grief. Once more a melody seemed to hang in the air, no banging drum or sounding trumpet, a melody of still and slow ease, for friendship, happiness, and love spilled openly upon the beach of the first landing and the first meeting.
Elmdùin, captain of men, was brought before the one the Darakin called Oimn, and before a roaring waterfall, the grey sprite spoke and offered him a bowl of water, to which he drank from and a deep sleep came upon him. In a deep dream, Elmdùin saw many things, a spiraling oak tree, with roots from all corners of the world descending into the hard ground. He saw citadels with walls of flame, burning fields, and charred bodies beneath splendid white walls. He saw a great plumbed eagle soar into the air before it was shot down by a dozen arrows. Yet Elmdùin remembered well these visions but forgot one, that of a small bird soaring in the air, graceful and slow, chaos all around but this bird did not waiver once. Soaring not high above but through the charred and battered land, it went on and came to land on the branch of a dead tree. It sat there for but a moment, before the branch withered and died, leaving the bird with nowhere to build its nest, and so the bird did not stop flying and soon died.
When Elmdùin woke from his deep dream, the Darakin had gone, left now alone was the captain and many thoughts raced in his mind before he went and returned to his people, who had begun hacking at trees and building their houses. While the men had taken to the lands around Mount Dunbrec, the fae under Ealen had ventured to the most fertile lands on the island, the lands won by Fairun, wife of Ealen and from who the land would then be called Dàl Fairuin for her.
Elmdùin embarked on a perilous journey to conquer the formidable peak of the isle. As he began his ascent, great Dunbrec awoke from its dormant slumber, the audacity of the man arising to its peak brought a hurling of fury and gusts of wind were thrown at him. Yet so Elmdùin's resolve remained, undeterred by the mountain's furious onslaught. He braced and weathered every onslaught, unyielding in the face of nature's wrath. Cloud-topped Dunbrec yielded for but a moment, astounded at man's ambition. Amidst the raging tempest, Elmdùin fought the mountain itself, his grip firm, and his footing clear. The alpine fury could not sway him, dead fate would not hold him, his heart burned fiery and hot to reach the summit and claim it as his own. As battle between man and mountain raged on, Dunbrec, once a formidable adversary, now bore witness to the unwavering resolve of man. Indomitable Dunbrec it seems, was bested then and as the wind arrived like a tempest at sea, it went away with a whimper. The mountain acknowledged Elmdùin's great determination and he passed higher and higher free from wind and rain.
Elmdùin was alone for but a moment before a stranger, clad with strength like the mountain itself, challenged Elmdúin to a match of grappling. The two locked eyes, their muscles tense, and the battle began. They grappled and wrestled with a ferocity befitting the gods themselves, their bodies straining against each other atop the summit of Dunbrec.
As Elmdùin stood face to face with the stranger atop the summit of Dunbrec, their bodies intertwined in a fierce wrestling match, the struggle seemed unending. The stranger, the champion of the highest one Nila, possessed an otherworldly strength, challenging Elmdùin's every move. But Elmdùin, deep-rooted and fire-hearted, did not yield. He grappled with the stranger, their bodies straining against one another, the very mountain seeming to shake beneath their struggle. Each muscle and sinew in Elmdùin's body screamed with exertion, but he clung fiercely to the hope of victory. As the battle raged on, the stranger's eyes glistened with admiration for Elmdùin's unwavering resolve. So then did Elmdùin rage on and picked the stranger from the ground, and slammed them forth. All the heavens opened in song, victory won for the son of man. With the victory won, the stranger arose in admiration.

"Elmdùin Ethardine, I bless you, I bless you with the wisdom and strength to guide your people, for you are destined to become the Father of Men."

As the stranger uttered these words, a surge of grace flowed through Elmdùin. At that moment, his grip upon the stranger withdrew, and the tension dissipated. With a final nod of acknowledgment, the stranger turned and vanished into the swirling mists atop high Dunbrec, leaving Elmdúin with purpose and a new name that would forever mark his destiny, Elmdùin Ethardine, the Father of Men.
As Elmdùin ventured further, to the summit of the towering Dunbrec, from the highest branch of a great tree there, a magnificent eagle spread its wings and took flight. Its majestic form soared through the sky, casting a shadow over the land below. Determined to honor this sacred sign, Elmdùin made a solemn oath. He vowed to build his great hall atop the summit of Dunbrec, where the tree resided, and to dedicate himself to the wellbeing of the tree, his family, and all his future generations. With unshaken resolve, Elmdùin gathered his people and shared with them the vision that had been bestowed upon him. Together, they embraced the task of constructing the grand hall upon the mountain's peak. The tree, its roots intertwining with the very essence of the land, would stand now as a sign to those above, of the devotion Elmdùin would show to his new homeland.
Yet while Elmdùin scaled Dunbrec, strife brewed below the mountain's base. A darkness cast its shadow upon the land, it was a tragedy that shattered the peace and plunged the island into sorrow and strife. Among the visitors were men driven by insatiable greed, lured by the tales of Siossein's abundant riches and untamed wilderness men and fae ventured deep into the wilderness of the Darakin, uninvited and unasked for. Oimn, guided by her desire to foster harmony, embraced these men. She opened her great gardens and vast wilderness retreats, and the beauty and bounties of the island humbled them for but a moment.
However, as time passed, these men, intoxicated by their lust for wealth and power, returned again and again, demanding more and more from the fair queen. Their insatiable appetite for riches and control knew no bounds. Their requests grew increasingly unreasonable, testing the patience and serenity of the patient and serene queen. In the face of their relentless demands, Oimn was pushed to her limits. She could no longer tolerate their unbridled greed and the desecration of her beloved gardens and wilderness retreats. In a moment of courage, she stood firm, refusing to bow to their appetites.
The intruders feigned understanding and for a moment Oimn was relieved. Yet soon, amongst themselves, they came to be enraged by Oimn's refusal to comply with their demands. The men and fae succumbed to the darkness within their hearts and they plotted a vile deed. Driven by a lust for more and more, they turned their weapons against the very queen who had shown them kindness and welcomed them to her realm.
In a cruel and heinous act, forever to mar the graceful land, they plunged their daggers into the fair queen and took Oimn's life, robbing Siossein of its guiding light. Their hands still stained with innocent blood, they claimed possession of her cherished gardens and wilderness retreats, ravaging the sacred lands in their ruthless pursuit of further wealth and riches.
As news of the heinous crime spread, the murderers sought refuge in their own lands, seeking protection among their own kin and kindred. Well aware of the Darakin's burning desire for revenge, knowing that they would be hunted relentlessly if discovered. The murderers, driven by guilt and fear, closed ranks within their own communities. They shielded themselves behind the walls of their stronghold at the bank of the Peniel River, refusing to face the wrath of the Darakin who yearned for justice. They justified their actions, hiding behind excuses and distorted truths, believing that they were justified in their quest for wealth and power.
The Darakin, wounded and grieving, were denied the satisfaction of retribution. Their cries for justice fell on deaf ears as the murderers hid behind their own. The once-harmonious island of Siossein became divided, with each faction clinging tightly to their own grievances and beliefs. The refusal of the murderers to face the consequences of their actions only deepened the animosity between the Darakin and the Dhateah. It fueled the fire of hatred that burned within the hearts of the island's inhabitants, burning at knawing at their souls. The Darakin, denied their rightful retribution, were left to grapple with the pain and anguish of their loss. Their grief turned to smoldering anger, a relentless thirst for justice that could not be quenched. It became a festering wound that fueled their determination to seek retribution, even if it meant defying the will of the murderers' kin.
In a single night, with the cover of night as their shroud, they scaled the walls of the stronghold of Caerpeniel where the murderers lay. With swift and silent movements, they infiltrated the enemy's territory, their hearts filled with dreadful rage. Guided in step by their wrath, the Darakin sought out the murderers, their identities known and etched into the collective memory of their people. They moved with purpose through the labyrinthine corridors and shadowed halls, their senses attuned to every sound and movement, their blades ready to deliver the swift hand of justice.
The unsuspecting men, resting in their false security, were caught unaware as the Darakin struck with righteous fury. Chaos erupted as the defenders awoke to the intrusion, their cries of alarm piercing the night, but it was too late. The Darakin's vengeance was unleashed, a savage storm of retribution unleashed upon the guilty and the innocent alike.
Amidst the tumultuous clash of blades and cries of pain, the Darakin sought out their targets without care. Their arrowheads found their mark, delivering swift justice to the murderers who had stained their land with the blood of their beloved queen. Each strike met with a thud, each strike released a gnashing and ripping sound that clouded the air in blood. In the heat of their vengeance, the Darakin's fury clouded their judgment. Innocents who stood in their path became unintended casualties of the conflict. The Darakin, fueled by their righteous cause, lost sight of the boundary between justice and vengeance.
As the first light began to pierce the horizon, a red dawn signaling the arrival of a new day, the Darakin knew they could not linger. Their mission, though partially accomplished, could not be completed without consequences. With heavy hearts and the weight of their actions upon their shoulders, they withdrew, retreating from the strongholds and fading back into the shadows. During the long years of his reign, King Elmdùin faced the ongoing struggle between the Dhateah of Siossein and the Darakin. Despite his best efforts to reconcile and foster peace between the two peoples, the wounds inflicted by the murder of Queen Oimn and the reprisals of those at Caerpeniel remained deep and unresolved. Elmdùin's deeds could not mend the rift and so conflict remained, and where friendship once stood and could have blossomed, rivalry and hate ate away at the peace that once rested upon the isle.
As time passed, Elmdùin felt the weight of his years upon him. The valor of man burned hot and they passed quickly, the strain of ruling and the unending struggle took its toll on his once-vibrant spirit. He grew weary, his steps slower, and his hair silvered and greyed with the passage of time. Yet so too did the king's determination wither away, as he resigned himself to the conflict he had failed to prevent. A great sadness took over him, he did not eat nor drink for many days and nights and as he weakened, he fell, and he never stood again.
One fateful day, as the sun cast its golden rays over the land, Elmdùin's body came to rest at a place where his friend Ealen ordained. Ealen, aided by the skilled hands of the craftsmen of the Dhateah, carefully laid Elmdùin's body to rest within the natural embrace of the earth. A mound of hard earth at the heart of which lay Elmdùin's burial chamber. Atop the mound was a bed of flowers, gathered from the gardens of Siossein, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. A soft beam of moonlight pierced through the mound and into the chamber, casting a gentle glow upon the sarcophagus of the king on the morning of the day he ascended the mountain so many years ago. As Ealen completed the burial rites, he whispered his final words of farewell to his departed friend. He expressed gratitude for the shared journey, memories now lost. With tears in his eyes and a heavy heart, Ealen bid his final farewell and stepped away, leaving Elmdùin to rest eternal, beneath the sheltering branches of the great Carmoir tree.
From that day forward, Carmoir, the tree atop Dunbrec became a sacred memorial, a symbol of Elmdùin the long-ruling, king, and hero of his people. Visitors to Dunbrec would pay their respects, their footsteps hushed, and their hearts filled with reverence for the great king who had found solace and inspiration in the company of the divine eagle and the magnificent tree.
And so, Elmdùin Ganathair, the Fatherless, forever in memory King Elmdùin Ethardine, the Father of Men, remained entwined with the land he loved, even during long night and the sundering of the land he loved, his spirit remained there, dancing on and on, for the valor and goodness of man was not dead.

Personality Characteristics

Virtues & Personality perks

Wise
Courageous
Honorable
Compassionate

Vices & Personality flaws

Stubborn
Impatient
Distrustful

Social

Contacts & Relations

A friend and co-king of Ealen Eorglaw

Family Ties

Son of Iorla of the tribe of Halvin and Edghar Oakenchair
Fostered by Eogana, Queen of the Arigrani
Foster brother of Ainelin, Elaren Einhel, and Oregrin
Husband of Queen Weifrin
Father of King Rhaegin Maedthin
Grandfather of King Árainn and Prince Lathir

Relationships

King Elmdùin Ethardine

spouse

Towards Queen Weifrin

---

Queen Weifrin

spouse

Towards King Elmdùin Ethardine

---

Current Location

Mount Dunbrec

Species

Human

Ethnicity

Géadine

Circumstances of Birth

Son of the Chieftain Edghar Oakenchair and Iorla, granddaughter of Halvin

Birthplace

Village of Leitwec

Place of Death

The palace of men, atop Mount Dunbrec

Parents

Edghar Oakenchair

Iorla

Parents (Adopting)

Eogana

Spouses

Queen Weifrin (spouse)

Siblings

Eyes

Light Brown

Hair

Long, Grey (Formerly Brown)

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Fair

Height

6'1

Weight

180 lbs

Quotes & Catchphrases

"Blood and Valor, Honor and Dreams" 
-the words of the House of the Dhateah

Aligned Organization

Kingdom of Siossein

(Arlaith Glán, the white cliffs of Siossein, the first land spotted by the ships of Ealen and Elmdùin)

(The high hall of Ardthrun, the seat of the Géadine of the Dhateah)

(Caerpeniel, the fortress of the river Peniel at the base of Mount Dunbrec)

(King Ealen Eorglaw, the co-king, and friend of Elmdúin and ruler from his seat at Dál Fairuin)

(Elmdúin's son and successor to the throne of men, Rhaegin Maedthin who would be killed by Darakin assassins in the hall of Ardthrun)

(Queen Eimain Gefeastri, daughter and successor of Ealen Eorglaw and bride of King Rhaegin)

(King Árainn Gebyrd, grandson of Elmdúin and Ealen and first sole monarch of Siossein)