Olethros Oleuni the Legend of the Battlefield, Drillmaster of Battle

Role

Chapter 8

Olethros entered his father's Voralian estate walking proudly certain he was on
the right path, and could convince his father so. Men at the forge waved to him
and pointed towards his father's shop and office, which was between the manor
and the large smithy in the center of the courtyard. He ducked ever so slightly
as he crossed the threshold of his father's office, a slight smile on his face.

"Is it true, are you responsible for the death of the holy warrior Kayloren?"
His father didn't even look up from his writings on his desk.
"Yes." Olethros deadpanned without missing a beat.
"Is it also true you struck out at the noble paladin, Iliomyndil in a blind
rage?" The interrogation continued.
"Yes, he shoul-" Olethros began to respond with an explanation but was cut off.
"How... how could you? What is wrong with you?" His father replied, now looking
up at his son and searching his face for an answer.

Olethros sneered in response, anger now rising in him. "What? Will you now
lecture me as the paladins do? Will you scold me and turn your back on me for
doing my duty?! Do you not understand an oath, do you not understand dedication
to a cause, an ideal, something greater than yourself? You are a Noldarian Smith
for Galadriel's sake! You've given your whole life to its teachings!"

Perifanos interrupted, his own anger rising. "You took that oath for yourself!
You took that oath to erase some imagined stain on your family's honor! Never
mind that we are well respected in the kingdom, with two households, noble
ambassadors of the king and honored craftsman! Do you know what your oath has
caused? Do you understand the shame it brings us? Do you know how many times
I've had to explain YOUR actions? What would your moth-"

"DON'T YOU DARE INOKE HER NAME! DON'T!" Olethros bellowed hatefully at his
father, rage and untamed anger rising in his belly. His father nearly leapt from
his chair to meet his son's challenge, slamming his muscled fists on the desk
and cracking the heavy ironwood top. The old Noldarian had no fear in him of
white-hot fire. Olethros met the challenge and struck his father in the jaw as
he came across the desk. The two elves, both with an uncommon strength for their
kind wrestled and brawled with each other as they rolled around on the ground.
It looked as though Perifanos, the elder had the upper hand. He had his son in
a choke-hold, with his back on the floor, and his legs wrapped around Olethros'
waist. Somehow, Olethros wriggled free enough to land a savage blow with his
elbow just above his father's left eye. They both came off the floor and reset
themselves to continue their battle, when all hell broke loose.

It was at that very moment that Erinomainen, Olethros' grandfather, and a wizard
of transmutation walked through the door. "What reckless foolishness happ-"

Olethros' senses dulled as an overwhelming urge for blood rushed through his
body.

Role

Chapter 7

A writing from Perifanos, Noldarian Smith and Oleuni Patriarch to his son
Olethros.

Hello son, I hope this letter finds you well.

I know it has been some centuries since we have spoken, or seen each other. I do
hear of your exploits, and some of the wizards of Darsylon speak your name in
hushed curses, and in truth no longer meet my eye in passing. Although your
grandfather, Erinomainen did ask after you. I told him what I knew, and all he
said was, "Interesting choice," and made furious notations in a notebook of his.
It was, by my count, a third of all the words he spoke to me on their visit.
Your grandmother Cwympeira is well, she has heard of your exploits as well, and
the fame, or infamy you have brought the Oleuni name. She assured me you were
traveling your fated path, and regaled me with tales she had heard of you. Many
were new to me. I'll never understand the two of them, I suppose there is a
powerful love that brought them together. But, who are we, to know the will of
the gods?

I also have some less cheerful news. Your grandfather Anendotos has passed. He
died peacefully in his sleep, and healthy. In fact, he had spent a few hours in
the smaller forge, the one he built at the Voralia estate, at the west end of
the stables. The Noldarian priests came and interred his remains in the shrine
of our lord next to those of MY grandfather Katharos.

As you know, your uncle passed some time ago, and so both the Darsylon and
Voralia estates come under my administration. As such, I now request that you
come home. The Oleuni legacy must continue, and that means you must now assume
your duties as a noble, even if you refuse to resume your education in the
forge.

I await your answer, and hope that we might find a measure of reconciliation.

Perifanos, Noldarian Smith, Patriarch of the Oleuni Family

Role

Chapter 6

The ravens circled above the clearing, and a hush fell over the gathering. The
only sounds remaining were those of the natural world around them. The soft
rattle of late-summer leaves in the gentle breeze, the near-imperceptible ruffle
of raven feathers upon the wind, and the light chatter of the River of Time
across its stony bottom. The ancient priestess' rhythmic and primal chant broke
the silence as she came out of the river, a large, black-haired warrior guiding
her sightless eyes up the small grassy path. The pair approached a young elf in
the center of the glade, kneeling in the center of a flat, weathered stone. The
stone itself was carved with fading lines of a crescent moon encircled with
timeless runes, stories of ages long since passed over by the waters of fate. A
young priest, adorned with various rope necklaces of stone, animal bones and
uncut gems approached with a stone bowl of blue ink and a sharp bone implement.
As the ancient priestess and the large warrior approached the kneeling young
elf, the chanting stopped, and the young priest passed the bowl to the large
warrior. Silence once again follow as the crone reached out and placed one hand
upon the head, and the other upon the heart of the kneeling elf. She leans her
head back and howls, her sightless eyes wide with immortal vision, her braided
locks of long gray hair nearly touch the ground.

Mae cigfrain yn gwledda tragwyddol! (Ravens feast eternal)
Llongddrylliadau ninistr, gwaed yn gwaedu! (Havoc wreaks, blood reigns)
Mae tywyllwch yn amgylchynu! (Darkness surrounds)
Mae un llwybr yn golygu gwir! (One path means true)
Mae dau lwybr yn golygu ffug! (Two paths means false)

The crone collapses to her own knees and whispers a constant prayer again and
again as the large warrior tattoos the mark of his clan on the young elf.
"Porthwr cigfrain, cysur tragwyddol, gwaedu nid y cinfolk." (feeder of ravens,
solace eternal, bleed not the kinfolk). The young elf grimaces ever so slightly
just once as the tattooing starts. Blood begins to drip from his fresh tattoo,
but he does not flinch, does not move. Mixing with the blue ink, the blood forms
purple-black rivulets that chase down onto his bare chest.

Four hours pass, the crescent moon now rising in the east as the sun disappears
to the west, and the work is complete. The ancient priestess stops her prayers,
rises, and with impressive accuracy slaps her hand onto the fresh tattoo and
howls into the evening air. The gathered throng joins the chorus, and the ravens
break their circle into the forest.

Oleuni, Cigfran o Hafoc!

Role

Chapter 5

Olethros had regained enough energy to at the very least argue with his father
by the time they made it back to the estate. It was the same argument they'd
been having for years, only this time the raw emotion of recent loss stoked the
flame. Olethros didn't want to be a Noldarian, or even a smith for that matter.
He didn't care that it was his family's legacy. His father was unyielding, like
the blades and armor he so expertly forged. Either he would follow the legacy
and way of his family, or he would make his own way. The prideful and angry
youth didn't even say another word, he simply grabbed his sword and travel cloak
and left.

Had he looked back, he would have seen the sorrow and pain in his father's eyes.
He would have seen the unspoken words forming on his father's lips, words of
love, of reconciliation. But he did not look back, and the words remained just
thoughts as the proud father watched the proud son walk away into the early
morning light.

Role

Chapter 4

The iron bars seared his hands, but still he grabbed tightly at them, he was
angry, furious. His jailer tried to calm him, get him to see reason, but
Olethros just screamed at him, he would not be consoled. He didn't care that
he'd hurt them, he didn't care he'd beaten them so badly. The jeering, the
insults, it had just too much for him to bear any longer.

He had surprised the sailors, they hadn't expected an elf to hit so hard. But
years at the anvil, and summers on the docks had given him a deeper strength
than most of his kind. The first sailor actually fell with the first punch,
Olethros' fist connected between his nose and mouth, just to the right of
center. The crack of bone breaking in his face startled a cat that had perched
to watch the comings and goings on Voralia's docks. Teeth and blood slapped the
wood just before the thud of the sailor's head. The other two pressed forward,
no strangers to a brawl, but did not fare much better. Unluckily for Olethros,
four peacekeepers happened to come around the corner together as he struck the
last sailor in the gut, doubling him over, and then snapped his head back with a
vicious knee. More blood, more teeth, and three apparently lifeless bodies on
the docks were what the peacekeepers saw. Olethros stood over them, blood
covering him from head to waist, and dripped from his black hair. In the
torchlight of the docks, he certainly looked nothing like an elven noble's son.
The peacekeepers hesitated, but not Olethros. The fury of battle had taken him,
and he rushed at the half-stunned soldiers. The soldiers, however, were not
drunken sailors and were wearing armor. Olethros managed to tackle one of them
and drive him to the ground before everything went black, the result of a
well-placed sword-pommel.

By the time his father arrived, Olethros had spent all of the rage that fueled
him. The discussion with the peacekeeper Captain was long, but devoid of much
animation on either part. The Captain knew that Perifanos had lost his wife and
Olethros his mother. In fact, he had been at the service. Olethros was released
to his father, offered the Captain a half-hearted and mumbled apology, and
followed his father home.

Role

Chapter 3

Cabal

Most likely to go Battle, but could seek out Tribunal. This should mostly hinge
on interactions with other characters plus any immortal interaction. More
interactions that reinforce his bias towards magic and non-warriors should push
him towards the village. The idea really focused on becoming the best warrior
ever through "pure" means. More interactions with "good" and "peaceful"
characters should push him towards Tribunal. The idea here would be that his
swordarm can best be used for good by protecting the masses. This would
obviously require him to become orderly, something he would seek through
Ishuli. Way outside chance he goes Fort/Maran.

Religion

He will start by praying to/seeking guidance from Ishuli and her followers. Most
likely he will end up a devoted Ishulite with his focus being combat and
swordmanship. There are RP hooks that could develop that could send him down a
Noldarian path, and an extremely small chance if he goes Battle and all the wrong
(right) things happen he goes evil. In the rare event that happens, I will flesh
it out.

Role

Chapter 2

* Olethros' Family Tree
*
* Katharos Peraanantamaton Cigfran
* Minor Darsylon Noble Daryslon Noble W-Elf Ranger
* Noldarian Darsylon Royal Guard Battlerager
* | | |
* | | |
* Anendotos Erinomainen Cwympeira
* Est. Voralia Household Transmuter & Naturalist W-Elf Druid
* Noldarian Ishuli Nordewin
* | |______________________|
* | |
* Perifanos Lumenmaara
* Hard, Cold, Perfectionist Rebelious, Kind
* Noldarian Elf/W-Elf
* |__________________________________________|
* |
* Olethros Oleuni

Role

Chapter 1

Notes on Olethros

Olethros is in many ways a typical elf, suspicious of strangers and their
intentions and politely condescending. He is also prideful, bordering on
arrogant. He is softer around wood-elves, non-noble high-elves and some humans.
Because of a history with some humans (he was in love with a human woman at one
point) he will likely be more guarded against any kind of friendship with them.
He has a rebellious streak in the manner of a defiant youth railing against
authority.

He is somewhat resentful of his father's side of the family, minor
nobility of Darsylon, but for five generations, his forefathers have been
Noldarian Smiths. He thinks it makes them less than the other nobles, mostly
because he spent his childhood ridiculed for it and his flawed perception of how
he thought other noble families treated his. What he doesn't understand (and
didn't see in his youth) is this has very little to do with the fact that they
were smiths, and more that they were a self-made noble family, instead of born
into it. In some circles they are actually highly respected.

Grew up in a strict household, lots of focus on perfection, obvious preaching of
Noldarian teachings, shaping your own future and others. He naturally was
rebellious (1/4 wood-elf) and this caused conflict.

**Recommend viewing role entry Family Tree**

His mother was half wood-elf, and passed when he was about 90. Because of an
arugment with his father, he went to live with her family until just a couple of
years before he joined the academy. His mother's side of the family shapes who
he WILL become, while his father's side of the family is more likely to shape
who he WON'T become. Had the most affinity/closeness with his wood-elven
maternal great-grandfather, a former Battlerager, and also looked up to his elven
maternal great-grandfather because he was part of the Daryslon Royal Guard. The
two of them is where he gets his ambition to become the greatest
swordsman/blademaster in all of Thera.

Oleuni is his paternal family's name, meaning light.

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