Llywelyn
Llywelyn
Born a Wood Elf to a tribe of foresters who winter in the Westwood of the Prarie Grove, Llywelyn is now an Eladrin after growing up in the feywild. Being abducted as a child in retribution for disturbing a fey gathering at a fairy ring, while out in the forest with their older sibling Gwenllianin .
Being taken to the fey court of The Ursine, Llywelyn was inducted into the circle of spores, one of the druid circles that serve at the pleasure of their fey eminence. A circle deeply entwined with the nature of life and death. The morbid initiation to which requires the initiate to willingly die by inhaling the spores of a magical fungus, letting it inoculate their corpse before being brought back as a symbiotic arbiter of both rejuvenation and decay.
Coming from a culture with a strong emphasis on balance, self-reliance, and kin group loyalty. This results in them not valuing material goods much beyond what joy they can bring and how practically useful they are.
Being a mere 45 at the time of her abduction, Llywelyn has largely grown up inThe Domain of Nature; a fickle place as beautiful as it is dangerous. This has led to him developing a sense of morality somewhat different than most folk one would encounter in the central domain. For in nature, the key rule is survival of the fittest, no power is real if it cannot be enforced. But nature is also as cooperative as it is competitive, with everything having its niche.
Although Llywelyns time in the Court of the Wild was relatively comfortable, akin to a noble hostage being treated as a guest to secure some treaty. It was not of Llywelyns choosing, she grew sickened by the constant political schemes of the other fey, and to this day has a reluctance to use charm magic whether on beast or folk seeing it as stripping them of their agency.
Withdrawing from the court proper he spent most of his time focusing on flora and fungi of the natural domain, discussing natural philosophy with the nymphs and druids. Tapping into the primal magic of the wild; like one would a birch for its sap. To form and reform the landscape, at the behest of the fey royalty.
One foggy dawn while foraging for oak galls Llywelyn fell from a mighty tree landing in the central domain at the base of an oak the mirror image of that from the feywild. The only difference, a small wooden key sticking from a knot in the trunk. A mere week's walk from the city of Whiteharbor in the Commonwealth of Humanity but an ocean away from the family they had been taken from.
Relationships
| Summer (She/Her)
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Autumn (She/They/He)
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Winter (They/Fey/It)
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Spring (They/Them)
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Currently Boarded Vehicle
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Aligned Organization
Related Reports
- The Adventure so Far 07: Waterpikes {WIP}
- The Adventure so Far 08: Red Hot Chilli Zephyr
- The Adventure so far 09: Judging a Crook by it's Mother
- The Adventure so far 10: Make Eastmere Great Again - Drain the Swamp
- The Adventure so Far 11: I Ship It
- The Adventure so Far 13: Dancing in the MoonFire
- The Adventure so far 14: Take a Page Out of My Book
- The Adventure So Far 15: You've Activated My Trapdoor
- The Adventure so Far 16: Breaching the Heavens
- The Adventure so Far 17: Blind Faith
- The Adventure so Far 18: Gear Up & Go
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