The Liberation of the High Elves

The journey over the Fvelone Sea was not easily trekked, but alas, Lysandris and Daerma Myrddin arrived to the White Tower of Lse Serin, upon the Elvish Isles of Ealtalos. With the help of the Sword of Votune , now.. the Sword of Avris welded by Lysandris, and Daerma the master of the spellblade, they repelled the forces of the Darkness, which have been weakened after they completed the Binding Ritual of the Darkness in the Shadowfell.
The elves are once again free from the yoke of the Darkness, and a semblance of peace has returned to the realm. Some wish to remain isolationists, others apart of the high counsel look to Lysandris as the fulfilling of ancient prophecies, as a reason to fulfilled greater ambitions by conquering the rest of Vagrax and restore the Elvish people to their former glory.
With the Sword of Avris, forged by the Gods, Lysandris is forced to slay an evildoer each day, in order to satiate the unquenchable bloodlust of the sword, which was only meant to be weld by Votune, Goddess of Seasons herself. As such, Lysandris has also become a feared slayer all evil on throughout the Isles of Ealtalos, her name strikes terror into friend and foe. Now, not only does she serve the elven people as the High Chair upon the its counsel, but also its high executioner as well.
Lysandris' power has only grown over the past year, as those upon the counsel whisper unsettling rumors, and question if she is truly in control of her own soul. For it is rumored, when she is alone, she speaks to the god-forged sword, and bends to its commands.

Shortly after arriving in Lse Serin, Daerma sealed his soul into his Phylactery to ensure his immortality. After his soul was preserved, weeks past, he felt his mind slipping. Forgetfulness started to grip him.
Echoing in his eternal mind, are the cackles of his former master Exethanter , as the stones collapsed around him as well as all the priceless tomes of knowledge of the Amber Temple Vault …
Daerma continues to slip from his former self day by day, who he was, is now a fading memory. None of his flesh remains on his bones, his eyes beam with dark energy; his joints, held together by the dark magic, just like his master Exethanter.
He has ominous visions; piercing red eyes within pitch black darkness, reflected in the shadowy haze of the Shadowfell. He has touched the Godstone of the Darkness, and he feels her hopelessness and despair. Deep in in his heart, he knows it to be true, until she is defeated once and for all, he will forever be hunted by her, to be enslaved by her to rule mortals under her banner, or destroyed.
The Darkness’s despair holds no limits to a truly eternal being, like a Lich. Daerma has no need for food or drink, but he has a new hunger that must be quenched. The same feeling he felt the Shadowfell, and the touch the Godstone of the Darkness… the souls of others… Whispers… lies… Am I going mad?
Those apart of the elven counsel fear the worst, as their mightily leader, Lysandris, grand vision for the elven people is waning, jaded by their battle-forged friendship. Now that Daerma has served his purpose, some on the elven council wish Daerma to be destroyed along with his Phylactery, or banished to the Abyss forever, as they believe Necromancy only leads to further corruption, and, after all, he is not a true high elf.

Date: 432-6-20
The ornate tapestry surrounds you, Lysandris, finely hung upon the high walls in the oval chamber. It depicts the mighty tales of you, and Daerma of your campaign over the past year liberating the elven people.
The low hum of the Goddess’s blade emanates in the chamber in Lse Serin.
You, alone, approach the Goddess’s sword, and the Sword of Avris, the Goddess of Passion, speaks to you into your mind’s eye….