Eladan

The Tale of Éledán Logira: Sorcerer of Alonia

Fitting it would be for the day to be cold on the final day of the Beltaine festival. All the fires had burned down low save for one. Alonian men and women lay scattered about sleeping off their intoxication; each person's hand freshly bandaged. For the end of the festival is marked by the priests of Logira, an ancient obscure cult with only 1 known temple. The priests would have sacred urns, not for ash, but for blood. Men and women would hold out their hand for a shallow cut to be received. Their first trickles of blood would be collected in the urn. The last few drops being flicked onto the givers' face from the gilded daggers held by the priests. Givers would then receive their reward and sacred right of the flame: a rich, potent, and hot ichor producing warmth and a vivid high.
This happens year after year until the priests' urns are full. And this year, the sacred urns lay ready in front of the brightest source of light: the Allfire. The priests called forth their god who rose from the brilliant flames; his horned head emerging from the smoke.
And Logira spoke, his voice crackling and spitting deep and ominous in his ignan tongue. The priests bowed and cowered, for even the eldest among them who had experienced this before still were terrified of this ancient deity. Logira beckoned his priests to an unlit alter and beckoned again for the high priest to produce his small vial of water from the Allspring. A drop was placed in each urn of blood making them sizzle and steam. Logira then took his hand, placing it inside of the Allfire and removing a part of the brilliant flames. He poured the living fire onto the altar which in turn ignited. The priests took their small urns and carefully emptied them into the flaming basin in the middle of the altar. The flames did not go out, rather they made the blood glow before the tendrils weaved through it. Logira reached out and touched the almost fully formed young figure appearing through the flames. Logira spoke saying only one name, "Éledán," before he willed his disappearance with the Allfire back to his elemental plane.
The young figure was a boy, born through fire brought to life on an alter by a drop from the Allspring. He was named Éledán by his father, a name of inspired power and regale. As he was raised from boyhood however, he was not told of his origins, only that he was blessed by his God and it was his duty to respect and serve him. Young Éledán did not question, as his contact with other youth was rather sparse, and so he hadn't a need for the knowledge of what parents were. He studied in the temple and learned the ways of the priesthood; making his way over the years as an acolyte. He was promised that if he worked hard enough and did enough for Logira, he may even meet the God and some day become the high priest. 
Éledán was a curious student though, reading what he could from the temple and persuading information he wanted from lower minded priests. He also knew from a young age his blessing gave him some unique abilities, for better or for worse. He could touch things that were too hot for others, he was very good at making and keeping fires. He didn't have to study the sacred ignan language because he just understood it. He instead learned Celestial so he could commune with heavenly beings and other divine things that fascinated him. He even persuaded a lower priest to teach him the tongue of devils. Éledán was always bright and charming, though one could say his smarts were more of the tongue than the pen. He never amounted to be very stout. He was slender and tall; athletic in his own right, and quite attractive. His hair was flaxen, and his eyes were a golden hue. He was also pale, but still looked healthy. This aided him greatly in his travels as an acolyte. Trying to make his temple and his faith more than what it had been for centuries. His god was powerful and ought to be favored and worshipped more than he was. 
This upset Éledán. These blasphemous folk needed more convincing than just a charm and a candle trick. These harder folk needed harder demonstrations. More concrete proof of a fire god who had given the Alonian people the gift of survival, light, and heat. He would pray fiercely to his god and people would watch in amazement as flame would conjure in his hand and gape when he threw it at some brush, instantly setting it ablaze. Little did this young man know that his prayers did not matter. His father did not care. He was too human; weak in Logira's eyes. This was simply an early manifestation of Eledan's power that one day he'd learn about.
In fact it would come sooner than later. The young Beltane was never of the lawful nature, but he never meant to harm unless it was for a need. Sure, he had trained in combat with a trident, as do all acolytes of Logira if they wish to survive in the roughest parts of Alonia. This did not keep him from being slowly jaded over time. He was not doing as well as he used to in younger days as an acolyte. Logira seemed to not answer his calling or prayers. The priests acted nervous around him, causing his temper (which already ran a little hot) to spark. People didn't want to hear what he had to say. He felt that his dream of high priest was just slipping away...something he could not allow to happen. 
There was a plan brewing.
Éledán would go to a town nearby, he would go alone and it would be in time for the Beltaine festival. He was approved to carry out the duties on the final day, and he would spread word like the fire he worshipped; convince all to realize their mistake in not recognizing Logira. He took with him his travel supplies, his trident and ceremonial dagger, and plenty of flame right: the sacred drink of Logira's followers. He knew the people responded well to drink, and even better to the sacred right of the flame. Its powerful effects enthralled all who tasted it, and made to be very effective for his past missions.
All did not go as planned. The day came, Éledán provided the right, collected the blood offering and spoke about Logira, yet none seemed to care. They all just continued dancing round and round without a care in the world. Happy, warm, and hallucinating; the locals did not want to listen to Éledán, which infuriated him. He was getting ready to leave the town; walking through its center while everyone was going home, save for a few armed drunks looking for trouble. They jeered and prodded at him. The young acolyte, while not defenseless, was not looking for a fight. These men were much larger than he and they were not unarmed. One carried an axe, another a longsword, then two more had large knives. Éledán stood his ground and said nothing to the men, though he gripped his trident tightly. One man, thinking himself brave, tried grabbing the trident. The acolyte responded by smacking away his hand. The man tried again, this time he was met with the blunt end of the trident against his face. He was promptly knocked aside but was yet to fall. The man drew his axe and swung wildly at Éledán's hand, which was quickly moved so the axe bit into the shaft. The others now drew their weapons, not wasting time going one on one with Éledán but rather attacking him from all sides. He spun around thrusting, swinging and attempting to strike, but alas, he was far weaker than these attacking men. He soon was disarmed and ran through by the longsword. 
He looked down in horror while blood spurted from his mouth. The other men stood back for a second looking confused. For Éledán's wound began to smolder. He looked up and his soft gold eyes began to glow and then his irises seemed to ignite. The sword was pulled free, the blade hissing with steam as it touched the Beltaine's blood. Éledán now began to smoke all over, as if it was coming from inside his body; as if there was a great fire begging to erupt.
And with a mighty scream that filled the cool air with dread, flames blasted from Éledán's eyes and mouth. His hair receded as it burned away. Two spots that looked like embers glowed on his forehead. They extended forward further and further growing into sleek black horns. By this time 3 of the 4 men were down. 2 writhed in pain as they slowly burned to their death, and the other lay as a heap of ash. Number 4 had ran in horror. Éledán's screams briefly subsided, as did the flames...until he felt an even greater burning inside of his chest. No sooner did he realize this then fire sprang forth from all of his body, making a whirling sphere of flames 20 feet from every side. The flames spun round igniting everything flammable causing townsfolk to run away crying and screaming out of terror or pain. Éledán looked upon his new body, and he did not recognize it as his own. He looked more like the images he had seen of Logira...not a man. But his minor distraction ceased the moment his eyes still ablaze saw the man who had run him through. The beltaine charged. The man yelled in fear as Éledán charged, be him a devil or some fiery demon the man knew not, but he was sure this was his end. He cried out for mercy, and he was able to just see the Beltaine's wicked smile as the wreath of flames parted to the back of it. That wicked smile was not the last image the man would see, instead, it would be bright radiant-like flames engulfing his eye sockets. What lie there after was a burnt husk of what used to be a man.
Éledán fetched his trident as the rag-tag half burnt town militia rushed into the smoking town square. Two charged, Éledán thrusted his trident through the first ones chest with a squelch and crunch. Then flames ignited down the weapon onto the dying man and then leaped to the other man igniting him immediately. The others were just standing looking mortified, that is before burning rays flew at them, catching them in variety of places. And then, an almost silence fell upon the town. The only thing that could be heard was the crackling of building's beams still burning and Éledán's ragged breathing. The flames had ceased and he was left alone in the middle of the square, burned, behorned, and terrified. He had not known what came over him...how any of this had happened to him. 
Then a pillar of flame came spiraling into existence, and out stepped Logira. He beckoned his son to rise, calling him by his name in a way that only he could do: Éledán
He feebly tried to speak but was unable. Logira strode towards him, and as he did, the massive horned and flaming figure shrunk to his size, resembling what seemed slightly more like a man. He reached out and touched Éledán's chest with his palm, and suddenly everything became clear to the Beltaine. Who he was, what he was, why he felt so at home at the temple. 
When he opened his eyes, there was no god in front of him, only what was left smoldering of what used to be a town. Years would pass, and Éledán would grow more distant with the temple, with his father, and the priests. He understood better who and what he was, and that his father being a god could not be too involved. This didn't mean he had to like it, he now was almost just an errand boy for tasks Logira couldn't be bothered to do himself. Officiate this ceremony, keep the high priest in line, convince and sometimes coerce Alonians to reassess their beliefs. If they didn't, well, Logira being a prideful god would take offense; burning the homes to the ground. On some occasions Éledán would do this himself vs having his father waste an ounce of power. After all, as a budding sorcerer, the Beltaine would have to harness his own power. Distance and resentment for years of truth withheld scorned Éledán. He pushed aside the priests claims that they never told him out of fear, that Logira would think they interfered with his son's growth. These priests were weak in Éledán's mind. They cowered before his father, and so they could cower before him as well. Obviously the priests did not take well to it, but all the same could not deny anything to Éledán. He was the living embodiment of their god and denying him would mean denying Logira as well, something they dared not do.
Éledán found that he enjoyed what he was. He had long since healed and accepted how he now appeared. He was still tall, lean, and handsome, as he rarely encountered trouble while seeking company. This was something he never tended towards before. After living in a temple so long, he never thought of needing or wanting any pleasures. This was a welcome change though. After all, many didn't protest to the idea of laying with a god. Éledán had also took it upon himself to act and present himself as a deity. It was only a partial lie, for he was indeed of godly descent and his power and soul indeed were divine. Except he was still mortal, and so he only possessed a fraction of the power his father could wield. Any more and his mortal shell would burn away. Éledán knew this, he just didn't feel it necessary to ever bring it up in passing conversation. He never was charged for burning that town either. How could he? There weren't any surviving witnesses of his destruction. Any that fled in time to live simply knew a fire had started and was quickly engulfing the town.
Éledán could have turned away from such an event, and indeed he at first was horrified, and afraid of his power. However, after awhile of learning to harness this power, Éledán thought it ridiculous to feel empathy for those who perished that day. They defied him, defied his father, and so they met a fitting end.
While other pursuits and lifestyles could have come to the Beltaine, he found he enjoyed his magic. Why deny the radiant fire flowing through him? Why bother getting close and physical when flames could lick the enemy from far away? And they certainly did many times over. Not in a sense of other towns being razed, but more so that not many would wrong the Beltaine and feel alright about it. And to Éledán, it was their fault, not his that they wound up fear stricken, maimed or dead. After all, they wronged him. They defied him, a fire God, a Beltaine, and so he did what they do best: Burn.

A Strange New World

Saying Eladan had a superiority complex is a generous way of putting things, and his arrogance often rubbed those he deemed "beneath him," the wrong way. This came to a head when Eladan found himself waking up in a world far different than the one he was used to; teleported to a snowy mountain range and a town where no one spoke the common tongue he was familiar with. There, he encountered a group of adventurers with whom he would be tossed into the proverbial crucible with when a horde of undead attacked the mountain town of Waypointe.
In the company of the party, Eladan traveled all across the realms of Horizon, Requiem, and Kentro. Slowly, he was able to piece together what happened to him. At first, it seemed he may have been forcibly moved from a parallel reality: beings familiar with the esoteric workings of such things alluded to such, and Logira himself (who he met face-to-face in his travels) seemed different than before. Later on though, it became clear that Eladan had merely been catapulted through time. It was revealed that the priests at Eladan's temple grew sick of his treatment of them and sought out the aid of a genie or other wish granting creature, wishing for Eladan to be removed from their lives. The result was Eladan being displaced through time and space, but the world he was expelled from was the one he re-emerged on; albeit somewhere between 500-1000 years in the future.
Despite this, Eladan never gave up on his dreams of achieving divinity. In an admittedly impressive display of determination and ambition, Eladan powered through many setbacks, defeats, imprisonments, and even direct confrontations with his divine father and other celestial beings. And to the surprise of almost everyone, he finally succeeded in his goals; at least from a certain point of view.
After defeating Logira's avatar at the Planar Spire of Fire, Eladan communed with the Allfire atop the tower and found that he was able to sense Logira's divine essence, and what's more, he felt he could merge with it, if he so wished. And wish he did. Eladan allowed his corporeal form to be burned away and allowed his soul to become one with the patron of the Domain of Fire. For now, it is unclear how much of what made Eladan "Eladan" remains within the unknowable depths of the fire god's being, but his joining did cause a palpable change in Logira's demeanor: he abandoned his alliance with Cataclysm and bestowed powerful artifacts onto Nefari, another Beltaine who had joined The White Tower Alliance in their battle against Cataclysm. So while the being that was Eladan is no more, it is clear he has influenced the deity that embodies the Domain of Fire, and perhaps one day, should his small church grow from his works, "Eladan" could replace Logira as the go-to face associated with the realms of flame...

Age

31

Date of Birth

unknown, but likely around 500 EP

Year of Death

1219

Circumstances of Death

Merged with the Domain of Fire

Birthplace

Alonia/Adelden

Place of Death

City of Brass

Belief/Deity

The Elemental Primordials

Ruled Locations

• The Temple of Burning Night