Name: Tirian “Roy” Pherae
Age: 24
Gender/Sex: Male
Height: 6'0''
Race: Half Human/Half Wood Elf
Ability/Weaponry
Abilities
The Flames of Pherae: The first of two elemental magic possessed by the Prince of Durandal. Tirian can use this magic on whim with a kick back of burnt flesh. The level of damage received by the young man's body is directly related to the level of flame strength being used. Tirian can use this magic to cover his blade, however within minutes the sword becomes simply to hot to hold and effectively disarms him of any weapon.
Distant Thunder, Lightning from Desperation: The second and final elemental magic possessed by the Prince of Durandal is that of electricity. Tirian can charge his body with a current of electricity that increases his reflex and reaction speed with a kick back that directly paralyzes his body. The Prince can discharge the electricity into stream or bolt with the very same kick back of paralyzation. Tirian must be grounded as well, otherwise the current from his magic will surge through his heart and tragically end his life early.
Swordsmanship: The children, specifically male children are recruited upon birth to become soldiers of the massive Durandal army. Children are pitted against one another in a literal fashion of killed or be killed. There was no mercy in this ring of blood and one could see themselves beating their best friend to death. Those who lived were only pushed further until the will of an unbreakable soul had been forged. Once beyond the initial trial of hell those who survive are taught skills of an impeccable swordsman. At approximately age seven is when the children hold their first sword and begin learning what being a warrior with a weapon truthfully was.
Elven Traits: While Tirian has the resemblance of a human his muscular structure is that of an elf. The young man was blessed with the genetics of his mother which gives him abnormal agility, speed and strength. However Tirian does not posses eyesight or hearing of an elf which counteracts his deceiving figure and form.
Weaponry:
Falchion of Imladris
The sword of Tirian's mother, Allynn which was bestowed upon him after a sudden accident claiming the life of the heir-to-be of the Imladis empire. The sword is forged with the Imladis' most sacred metal Orichalcum that is only found in the underground caverns deep beneath the forests. This blade is tempered to withstand temperatures far above that of standard metals found within Pandria.
Auriel's Bow
True to Tirian's elven nature he developed a natural tendency for bow combat. This bow was curved and carved from a Lavaralda tree that had been petrified through the seasons of Imladris. Other than an increased draw speed and superior strengthening there is nothing special about this bow. Tirian however holds a sentimental value for this item. The reasoning, however, is not yet explained in the compendium that is Tirian.
Background:
ACT ONE
Birth of a Prophet; A Child's Destiny
It all started with a forbidden romance. That of human and elf during a time of supreme racism and hatred. Humans hated the wood elves of Imladris and the same could be said in the drastic reverse. Continued war and harsh battles lead to the ravaging the lush land of Thialea. Only within the recent years had the groups agreed to peace, yet the hatred continued. Tyrande Pherae of Durandal and Allynn Runetheil of Imladris found a way through that hatred and brought a baby boy into this world. This young prophet had not known it yet, but war would be fought in his name
“He's beautiful Tyrande. He has your hair.”
A stout man carried a solemn but proud tear within his left eye as he gazed down upon a newborn baby boy laying oddly peaceful within a shoddy crib. In an empire that hated elves, Tirian Pherae's life would forever been a deeply held secret between two people. This was a moment of bliss, untouched by the plague of human hatred.
“And he has your eyes Allynn. I will take him home. Claim him as an orphan.”
For a mother to be condemned with a life of never seeing her first born child was like almost not worth living. The pain had become ever so evident in those sky blue eyes of the elven female, and new found mother. With a subtle movement her slender frame turned away from the claimed child, hiding pain and sadness in her face.
“Then I take my leave Tyrande. Make sure Tirian grows strong, please.”
The red-haired mountain of a man quickly turned to face the back of a slender and beautiful elf with worry in his eyes.
“Are you sure? You just gave birth to new life.”
Allynn cracked a forced chuckle and continued the stride towards the exit offering only a snide comment before finally leaving.
“Us elven woman aren't as fragile as humans.”
Allynn exited the hidden grotto, covered with forest shrubbery and retreated with a defeated posture to her horse. With one final look back, the wood elf disappeared to the north. Tyrande bundled the baby boy and headed to the south, two souls parted by distance but yet held together a third soul; the glue. Tyrande rode hard into the afternoon, making it to Durandal somehow before nightfall had struck the canvas of the world. The gate keepers quickly allowed the heir to the Durandal throne in without question, eying the bundle of new life as Tyrande passed through with haste.
And thus would begin the life of a troubled child destined for violence, war and most of all. Hatred.
ACT TWO
The Ring of Blood
A mere five years had passed and it would seem Tirian was due for the hell that was combat training. Durandal hadn't grown to be the superpower they were through leisurely drinking tea and munching on biscuits. No, these warriors would beat their will upon easily molded children for the very sake of protecting their special way of life. Tirian had grown to be a gentle and quiet little boy, never quarreling with his father or those around him. The boy kept to himself most of the time and in a general sense did not have many friends despite his calm and kind nature. His world would soon come crashing down.
“Tirian! You must do it! That or face death!”
The voice of a raspy man at wits end screamed up to a non-receptive little boy. Tirian had turned five and by Durandal law it meant he was required to participate in the initiation period. The door came barreling down as Tyrande grasped the arms of a boy entirely shut down within. Tirian couldn't understand nor could he grasp the pressure. A young boy barely able to open an adult door was being forced to kill, maim and murder.
“This is my only son.”
Tyrande drug the red-headed boy in front of a trio of armor bearing soldiers. Not a single word had been spoken. Only extended arms revealing scars of wars from the past. Tirian closed his eyes against the abrasive hands gripping hard enough to leave cuts. The trio of guardsmen carried the young boy to a cart that had already gathered upwards of fifty boy's. All the same age.
In order to survive the Ring of Blood; or rather graduate one must win ten matches with his peers. Tirian would be thrown into his first match a infant, unscathed by the harsh nature of reality. He would only survive by elven instincts alone and nothing else. Slowly as each match came the boy lost a piece of his innocence. By the last fight Tirian had shifted and grown over the month of hell into a cold and distant child of war. He stood before his father, almost proud of his accomplishments.
“You're going to be a fine soldier son, I couldn't be prouder.”
Little did Tyrande know, something devious and destructible had been brewing within the boy, flowing through his veins almost like blood. The one thing Durandal hated, loathed, despised, abhorred and detested was magic.
The very same magic waiting to be unleashed by one boy.
ACT THREE
Becoming a man; Facing the world.
Graduated from the Ring of Blood. Completed was his training. Now sixteen Tirian Pherae stood at the head of his group, and on-top of every boy within his training regimen. There wasn't a boy in this city that was touching his almost inhuman skills. It had become so apparent that the council had begun to speak ill of the boy. He moved like an elf, almost mirrored elven strength. But Tirian did not have the pointed ears. It would be this one trait which would keep him out of the council's grasp until solid evidence was completed. Despite the racism towards the elven people, one could not go around falsifying accusations. Durandal had been a democracy and one that abides by its' own laws.
Tirian had begun to feel extreme discomfort within. Unbearable stomach aches and feverish outbreaks. Some days his body felt too hot to even begin moving upon waking in the morning. Others it felt almost as if his body had been paralyzed or numbed to the touch. His pride did not allow him to speak out on these issues, as a soldier one had to be tough on the outside and emotionless on the inner part.
“Young boy. Over here.”
Gentle, soft and angelic. These words could not better describe the serene voice coming from a darkened alleyway. Tirian felt compelled to lend his ear to this unknown feminine voice.
“Please, unto this alley. We must share words handsome man.”
Any other day of the week Tirian would decline, and eventually turn to force if further persuaded. This day however, had been a good day. The sun had been covered with fluffy clouds and allowed for the temperature to be delightful. Everything seemed to point towards a genuinely blissful day. The red-haired boy followed the cloaked figure for a moment, eventually until the female revealed her pointed ears. Tirian instinctively pulled his had to the hilt of his sword, only to meet the gentle touch of a soft as silk hand.
“Please Tirian. I am not someone you wish to quarrel with. Hear your mothers words out.”
His eys quivered with fright and shock. His throat clumped together with sadness and anger. How dare this elven female speak of his mother. Wait. Who was his mother? Tirian didn't even know of his real father. His intelligence spoke of killing this elf. His heart, spoke other wise. He would listen.
“What do you know of my mother, elf?”
This caused a gentle and meek laugh from the beautiful elf.
“What do YOU know of your mother?”
This female had a point. Tirian did not know, or even what his mother was. His eyes met her own in a stare of evident realization. They had the very same eyes. Allynn met his eyes with a warm smile, much warmer than any star could produce.
“You...”
The elf simply nodded as her slender arms embraced the muscular frame of a man who had seen hell.
“I am your mother.”
The entire world slammed weight down unto the boy's chest. Every emotion a single human being could feel was being realized by Tirian. He had so many questions to ask and yet it seemed as if there had not been enough time.
“Grave mistake coming her Allyn.”
Tyrande interrupted the happiness of reunion with cold steel drawn and threatening the mother of the red-headed boy.. Tirian slipped to the side with watching eyes as Allynn quickly snapped back with an ice cold tone.
“Don't you think our son deserves to know who is mother is?”
Allynn felt disgust within her heart with eyes on the man she once loved. He was not that same person.
“You're not the man I once loved. You're a corrupted old pile of worthless bones.”
Tirian snapped those sky colored eyes to Tyrande with a sudden realization that these two were his parents and they seemed to be at war with one another, but why? His father wasted no time lunging forward with a quick slash that met nothing but resistant air. Allynn had seemingly vanished fifteen feet backwards.
“What will you do when Tirian uses magic? Had you never thought of that Tyrande! Your son would be slaughtered. Or does that even matter? Is your throne and fame worth more than his own life!”
Something snapped the older man, harsh eyes turning his very own son. That pride and happiness disappeared from those harsh yellow eyes of his. The hatred flowed freely even within his gasping breaths. Tirian felt something inside of him crumble as a sudden inferno of flames erupted from his every pores. Everything happened in an instant. Tyrande tried evading the flames to the best of his ability and Allynn quickly jumped to the aide of her son. An immense flash of light radiated within the area and Tirian had vanished from sight with his mother.
Allynn brought the duo directly to the front gates of Imladis, the elven capital she had recently become Queen. Both magic users fell unconscious as their body had simply used too much energy to sustain anything more. The explosion of flame magic had been dispersed evenly throughout the boy's body to allow for minimal damage.
ACT FOUR
New beginnings, Old terror.
The elven people openly accepted Tirian. It had been odd for the boy at first who had been raised in a society that had hated elves more than anything in the world; except magic of course. It took the boy time to grow accustomed to the new way of life and yet he could never shake the unbearable feeling that his father was never too far away to come after him.
Tirian, now twenty-one had been given the best life possible. The elven people had been tolerant and went as far as too train him in their own ways. The boy could openly practice his magic without fear of outright death from an intolerant empire. This peace would not last, the fate of his life and Allynn's would rest forever on this caravan. The queen herself had been called to the elven council to the north. If there had been any time to attack it would be now, and she knew it. The unshakeable feeling of atrocity welled deep within, it was her time. The most important thing was Tirian, he had to survive no matter what.
It happened so fast, a brigade attacking the caravan. Flames erupted as explosions covered the area. Arrows hailed into the caravans with deadly precision. Oxen fell to the ground lifeless and within seconds the entire traveling company came to a halting and forceful stop.
“Where is he you bitch. Where is my son!”
The voice had been none other than Tyrande's. Allynn shot worried eyes to Tirian who held a simple smile. There was no sign of fear in those warrior eyes of his. Without warning the red-haired boy drew Allyn's blade and exploded out of the caravan's roof and landed directly in front of a small army of no less than one hundred men.
“Son...”
His former father had scarring to the right side of his face from their last encounter so many years ago. Tirian spit to the side with clear disgust held in his stern eyes, brows furrowing and nose flaring. Every memory of being forcefully thrown into violence flooded through the young man.
“Not anymore.”
Words had been cheap. Actions here and now would speak louder than anything Tyrande or his men could ever hope to say. Static began to crackle off the boy's body as his magic settled into his nervous system.
“Six minutes. That's all you have before I kill each and every one of you.”
In reality Tirian had six minutes before his magic would totally paralyze his muscular system and prevent him from moving any further. Roughly seventeen kills per minute to eradicate one hundred men within that time period. It would be nearly impossible without flame magic as well. Tirian erupted forward with speed that left a visible stream of dust behind him. The first strike landed on his father, a palm strong enough to send the two-hundred and fifty pound man in armor crashing into a group of soldiers fifteen feet backwards.
The boy fought his heart out, protecting his mother to the very last second of his limit. His body collapsed to the ground with seven soldier still left breathing. One of which had been his father. Blades of steel came slowly towards the magic bearing son of Tyrande, aiming to strike down his life. They were pushed back by an hurricane like gale of wind as Allynn landed in front of her son breathing heavily. Blue eyes unmatched in beauty in all of the land cast back to her son with a saddened smile.
“Take that blade and life son. Run until you're ready to confront your destiny. As long as that blade rests in the hands of elven royalty Imladris will survive. I... I love you.”
Tears streamed down her perfect face. Tirian wanted to scream. Tired to scream. Brightness soon engulfed the area and Tirian vanished, leaving Allynn behind to face the cold steel of Tyrande. Her life had been sacrificed for Tirian's. The boy appeared in an unknown land on the outskirts of a major city. His body still paralyzed by the effects of his magic. However, tears rushed down his face as the sadness overpowered every inch of his body.
He would avenge Imladris and get revenge for his mother.
THE FINAL ACT
Towards The Future.
Three years have passed since that day. Tirian found himself on the western continent many miles away from his destination. The boy took on a new name, Roy and hid from everyone his past and heritage. Not a single soul on Furus would know he was the heir to Imladris' throne and the son of the dictator of Durandal. One empire had been thrown into darkness without a leader, and the other completely controlled. No more was the democracy of Durandal. Tyrande broken down the council and stripped everyone of rights. Anyone outspoken against the king found their heads on a platter. The time would soon come. An invitation from a traveling merchant and where should they end? The outskirts of an empire Tirian would be destined to silence.
Reason for Joining: Tirian joins for the sole reason of going back to Thialea and face the forces of Durandal and forever fulfill the prophecy of bringing down an evil king.
(Enjoy my hand drawn map lol)
