Elitu (eh-lee-too)

The tunnels beneath the Worldspine covered a vast area, and the massive armies of Helmforge and Sol’iria had travelled only a small portion of it in their journey to Ethaea. Various passages shoot off from the main tunnel, leading who-knows-where. Others yet are hidden behind heavily woven tapestries depicting long forgotten wars from eras erased from history by the victors. With so many thousand people wandering through a mountain tunnel, it was hard to keep track of everyone. In particular, three unassuming soldiers, barely more than militia, ducked out of the advancing column into one of these side passages, hoping to perhaps find something to plunder. Deep down under the mountain in the silence of the darkness, where the passage of time goes unnoticed, they walked. For what felt like hours they continued, through labyrinthine passageways untrodden for untold centuries, until they were beyond even the dull rumbling of many thousand armoured boots marching together in the distance. Finally, exhausted and their water canisters almost empty, the adventuring soldiers came upon a massive stone door, covered in intricate carvings that told of an age long since forgotten. An age filled with technological and magical marvels, yet wrought with war. The door itself was broken, each half cracked in two by some unknown force, the pieces lying haphazardly in the frame. Cautiously, the men clambered over the enormous hunks of stone, into the room beyond. It was a large room, yet mostly empty. Various stone tables lined the walls, alternating with fire-pots about a half-meter across that danced with live flames - probably fed by magic. Twisted gargoyles extended from the walls, their talons seemingly reaching for the men. An indescribably old carpet, its colour now lost to the ages, ran from the doorway to a low dais at the opposite end of the room. The men halted when their eyes fell upon this, for atop the dais, was a sarcophagus. It was fairly plain, carved simply from the stone around it and adorned with plain red and gold cloth. Someone had left a bunch of black roses, delicately tied with red ribbon, on the top of the tomb. Somehow, both the roses and the cloth were undisturbed by the ravages of decay. In fact, it was almost as if the sarcophagus lay frozen in time. The men averted their eyes. This was not something they could even hope to understand. Instead, their greedy gazes were drawn to a golden statuette that stood between two bronze incense censers on an altar before the tomb. With a quick exchange of grins, the men hefted the statue and fled the shrine. As one, they leapt over the cloven stone door - and were confronted by the sight of the sarcophagus. Hearts pounding, they turned and climbed over the door once more to find that they were again face to face with the frozen casket. One of the men gestured at the statue, pleading the others to leave it behind. And so they did, convinced that it was cursed. Once more they fled the chamber to find themselves still stuck inside. Finally, they despaired, sinking against the broken door pieces, the golden statue lying discarded at their feet. They sat there for what felt to them as days, wondering aloud between bouts of sleep if they would ever escape, if Helmforge had won the war. None of the friends noticed the petals of the roses slowly falling, breaking free of the flowers. It was after their fourth sleep, when their rations had finally run out that one of the friends noticed the progression of the roses. There were but three petals left on the entire bunch, and although the men knew not what it meant, they were men capable of logic. And logic dictated that they had disturbed whatever had kept the room frozen in time. The final black petal fell to the cold stone of the sarcophagus later that day. As it did, the fires in the shrine went out as one, plunging the room into darkness. After a few moments, there was a resounding crack, followed by a deep violet light spilling out from the stone sarcophagus as the lid slid aside, just a little. One of the men screamed in terror as a tendril of shadow whipped out from the gap and struck him through the heart. It left no wound, but still he fell silent, lifeless, a faint white glow escaping his mouth as though it was a last breath. There came a hoarse intake of breath from inside the tomb, followed a moment later by a feminine laugh. It sounded hoarse and weak, almost as if its owner was unused to using its voice.
'And who are you, that you would disturb my slumber?' Asked the voice. It pealed throughout the chamber and echoed in their minds - powerful, yet beautiful.
The men did not answer.
'Did you not hear me, humans?' Asked the voice. In the dim light, the soldiers saw a hand, soft and delicate, reach out of the sarcophagus and grasp the edge of its lid. Then, as if made of paper, the lid was thrust aside. Violet light exploded into the room, followed by a mass of writhing darkness that spilled over the edge of the casket. The soldiers, fearing that they should meet a fate similar to their friend, turned and fled, attempting once more to escape the room. Alas, they were met only with the now familiar sight of the sarcophagus, except a woman now floated a few inches above the altar. She was tall. Very tall. Her flaming red hair billowed out behind her, as if she was under water, standing in stark contrast to her pale white skin unmarred by imperfections. The woman appeared to be garbed in the very darkness that surrounded her, weaving a close-fitting dress about her form. She smiled, and suddenly she appeared harmless - almost motherly - though fear gripped the hearts of the men and they backed away from her regardless. When they refused to respond to her, the woman's expression hardened and she floated gently toward the cowering soldiers. A tendril of shadow darted forward, grasping each man firmly by the throat before lifting them into the air before her.
'Let’s have a look at you,' she said, almost alluringly, as they rose. One delicate hand grasped the man’s hair and pulled him toward her before sealing her lips against his. The man’s eyes widened in shock and he struggled against the woman’s grasp, but try as he might he could not free himself. A long moment passed as his remaining friend watched in horror and finally, the woman relinquished her grip on the first man, allowing him to fall lifeless to the floor where his head struck stone with a sickening crack. Her eyes, a deep violet with slits for pupils, slid over to the last soldier, desperately fighting to escape. She smiled, lips curving in just a way that would have been considered highly beautiful on a woman in Helmforge.
'Do not fret my love,' she crooned. 'I have a special task in mind for you.' The woman moved forward to face the exit and lifted the man before her. She kissed his cheek tenderly and raised a palm against his chest, her fingers just barely grazing his torso. He exploded an instant later, blood and pieces of entrail splattering violently against the doorway. The woman smiled, completely untouched by the gore, before striding forward, her footsteps finding purchase on thin air as she crossed the threshold. There was a sound like glass shattering and time seemed to stop for a moment as she stepped through the ward surrounding her tomb. Finally free of her shrine, the woman laughed - a long, joyous peal that rang throughout the corridors.
'Blessed freedom!' She whispered, joy spreading across her lips, followed by a phrase from a language so long gone as to be forgotten by the very stone. There was a brief pause, and then the ground rumbled ever so slightly. Elitu’s lips parted in a satisfied smile and vanished into the darkness that wreathed her body as the stones beneath her feet began to crack and split. A single claw, nearly a foot long and as thick as a man’s fist burst through the rock.

Divine Domains

Goddess of the Night, Elitu's domains also extend to shadows and dark places.

Divine Classification

Goddess

Gender

Female

Eyes

Almond shaped with violet irises

Hair

Long, sleek, crimson

Height

7'