Asdamiel

Asdamiel was born in Iedëlunwë as the firstborn son of chieftain Meannoi, descendants of the first kings of Aellasar, and the heir to the largest chiefdom on Aellasar.

From a young age he was plagued by nightmares of agonizing deaths. No two dreams were alike; he felt the torture of flames on his skin as he was burned alive as well as the freezing pull of the ocean forcing him to the depths after his younger siblings pushed him in. And every night he would wake up in sweat and tears, panting for breath.

The child cowered in fear of these dreams while the people of his clan fell quiet around him. Behind his back they whispered of nightmares and halfminds, as if the dreams were nothing but the work of the night folk. But Asdamiel knew better. He knew, he felt the truth in his very bones; they were no fabrications of a maeraia or tricks of shades and night folk. They were omens, visions from future events. They must have been. In every dream he was of a different age, but always older than seven as he was then.

Hunter

As Asdamiel grew up, he learned the ways of his clan, and his father the chieftain, whom he was to succeed once the time came despite protests from other, louder mouths. From the age of ten he began to hunt with his uncle's party. He learned to trap fox and rabbit, and soon enough his aim was good enough for his uncle to take him to hunt a deer. That day was his birthday, the day he turned twelve.

Slowly the boy who would crumble beneath the nightmares' hold would grow up to become one of the most skilled hunters and fighters the clan had seen. Still the nightmares refused to leave him. In fact, they only became longer and more detailed with every year. But as the haunting dreams dug their claws ever deeper around him, the better the chieftain's son learned to hide himself from others.

He learned to smile and laugh and converse with others as was expected of him, if always with an awkward, quiet demeanor. He would even come to be accepted among the clan, even if his siblings still avoided the freezing gazes he threw their way in his paranoia. Encouraged by his parents during his sixteenth summer, he even married the daughter of a neighbouring small clan's head. Finally he was being accepted as his father's son. All the while Asdamiel endured the nights, clutching at the axe his eldest uncle had gifted him after the wedding.

Kinslayer

Then came the day when his father collapsed in the great hall in the midst of a great feast; the hunting party had come back with a great brown bear and festivities were required to allow its spirit to continue its journey. After the shock of their leader's fall, however, no one was in the mood for drink nor dance. Asdamiel followed behind as his father was carried back to the ruling couple's rooms.

Sleep avoided the chieftain's son that night. Instead, he jumped at a quiet creak of the floorboards passing his room, heading toward a small sidedoor outside. Clutching his axe Asdamiel left his room to follow, heartbeat drumming in his ears.

He found his uncle outside. As the eldest son of the previous chieftain, he had given up his right to the seat in favor of a free life of hunting, drinking and dancing. The events of the evening, his father's sudden illness, gave form to dark thoughts as Asdamiel watched the older man from the shadows of the doorway. He pushed the thoughts away again and again, but they kept bubbling up, forcing themselves into his mind. Why wouldn't the man try to weaken father, to poison him like a coward? Why wouldn't he vie for the seat of power, which others of the clan competed for even as their rightful heir stood right before them?

A strange wrath bubbled from within him, pushing out the terror usually grapping him. It felt wrong, foreign, but he embraced it nonetheless. The anger, he found, gave him confidence. He was finally in safe, in control. It pushed the fear away. He tightened the grip on his axe. The hilt felt hot beneath his palm, the leather almost pulsing, driving him forward and out of the shadows.

Asdamiel was found the next morning sitting by the bank of a nearby river, a wet axe gleaming beside him under the dawning sun's gaze. He said nothing when told of his uncle's death, or of his mangled corpse found just outside the great hall's side door. He returned to the great hall with an odd, calm demeanor. It didn't take long for the old whispers of his strangeness to turn to quiet accusations of murder and suspicious glances when his back was turned.

Chieftain

Two years later the now eighteen years old Asdamiel followed with a curious eye as a stranger from the mainland, clad in dark wool and a grey wolf's fur on his shoulders, arrived on the clan's lands from over the Storm Sea. His name was Uodëundo, a wandering sage from the northern mainland, and had come in search for someone, so he said, but would not tell who.

Uodëundo, while initially distrusted by the clan, quickly came to be a trusted friend. His words came as easily as his smile, and the tales he told by fireside in the great hall regularly filled the room with tears as well as laughter. But none became as close a friend to him as Asdamiel. Indeed it seemed the young chieftain's son could scarcely leave the great hall without Uodëundo following close at his side.

It had been a year, perhaps less, when chieftain Meannoi fell ill once more, and this time no herb or poultice could aid him. It had hardly been a shock after years of collapses and bursts of fever, and there was already a line vying for the seat of the once mighty chieftain.

To the surprise of all it was Asdamiel who stood up against the others, challenging any who wished to be the head of the clan to duel him. The winner would become a ruler, the loser a corpse. And though there were still some who disliked the late chieftain's son, none could beat him in fair combat and by the laws of Aellasar and their clan, that made him the victor.

King

Ever since Uodëundo's arrival Asdamiel's dreams had turned away from his own demise by the hands of his kin. Instead his dreamscape became engulfed by the heat of a raging war. Clan against clan, chiefdom against chiefdom, brother against brother. An age of great strife neared Aellasar, and Asdamiel saw his home swallowed up by its flames.

Uodëundo had become an invaluable advisor to the young chieftain, and was rarely away from the great hall after kneeling before Asdamiel to swear his loyalty. Despite this it seemed nothing happened on the island without the man knowing about it. It was he who suggested to Asdamiel the reunification of the island, and the crowning of a new King of the Isle - the first one in centuries.

Uodëundo could suggest, but Asdamiel remained hesitant in fear of the searing flames and bloodshed. At least that had been the case until an attack on one of the clan's families by the border. Another clan had declared war in the dead of night, and Asdamiel hesitated no longer.

That spark grew into the flames of Asdamiel's nightmares, but none touched his lands or his people. Instead he became the one who spread the chaos and destruction to any who would not bow to him. Change enveloped him, one noticed by the rest of his clan as well. Newfound confidence drowned over the fear. Asdamiel stood straighter, spoke louder. He had a taste of control, a faint glimmer of safety. Perhaps, if he could unite Aellasar, the nightmares would finally leave him.

A decade passed, but eventually the island crumbled beneath Asdamiel and Uodëundo. As soon as snows retreated and spring arrived, Asdamiel was crowned King of Aellasar. By this time all who had stood to oppose him had died or gone missing. Who were left might not have liked him, but even the most stubborn of the islanders had to admit Asdamiel's strength.

Immortal

It had been a vain hope, to think the nightmares would leave. No amount of running or fighting or conquest could defeat death itself. Aellasar stood united. Trade prospered between the island and the coastal kingdoms of Nalidin in the south. Yet the island's sole ruler found himself closer to that inescapable end every single day. The terror of his childhood had long since grown into an obsession, and avoidance of an agonizing death had turned into a search to defeat mortality altogether.

Word reached the King's ears of a wiseman who knew the secret to a life eternal. He had apparently been a wandering sage for most of his life, but settled in with another clan decades ago. But Asdamiel was less interested in how the man came to know his secrets, and more determined to do whatever it took to reach his own goal.

Consumed by fear and quickly reaching the point of madness, the King declared no action was too extreme so long as the wiseman would arrive to the Island alive. So it was done, and the older man was brought to Asdamiel bound and silenced, his home and clan left to burn behind him.

His name was Edëssale, and to the surprise of the King, who had heard how hard the man had fought before, he readily agreed to do the ritual. There was a dark, almost mocking smile hidden behind the wiseman's gaze throughout the many months of preparation. Even Uodëundo warned against going through with it, but for the first time Asdamiel pushed him and his advice aside. After all, his nightmares were finally dissipating, disappearing into the void where they belonged. After a lifetime of nightly terrors he could finally feel peace.

With the arrival of the next winter solstace the ritual commenced. Thousands gathered to witness history with their own eyes at Iedëlunwë. Edëssale's grim, spiteful smile forever locked in Asdamiel's memory as the sage asked, for one and only time, if the mighty King was certain he wished to go through with the ritual. Asdamiel agreed, impatient to reach the peace he had wished for his entire life.

Strange words older than the languages of man woke up something in the earth. Concern, then panic began to spread within the crowds when the tremors began. They shook the earth, as if the island itself was a wild deer fighting to get a wolf off her back. Asdamiel tensed when the wiseman placed his hand on his heart. For a single moment he sensed the lives of everyone around him. The lives, the very fires burning within Uodëundo, his family, and all of his subjects enveloped him, but none as strongly as the one existence he felt Edëssale reaching for.

It was then he realised the price of his wish. He understood why the sage, from whom he had taken everything, had agreed so quickly after the King had taken away his home and family. To become immortal one had to sacrifice an immortal, and the island beneath their feet had been there since the birth of the world. A fragment of creation given form, now butchered for the sake of a single human's obsession. Endless, maniacal laughter released from Asdamiel's lips in front of the horror he had brought upon the world even as the island roared and people ran away screaming in horror.

Immortal King of the Island

Pronunciation: /ˈɑʃdɑˌmiel/
Name Meaning: power + mind
Title: Tielëjoar

Born: Iedëlunwë, Aellasar

Desire: life and safety
Fear: death and pain