Elias grew up in Arde, a small provincial town in southern Neullais. He was a quiet child, slow to grow, slow to socialize, and slower still to open up. The son of well-liked bakers, his parents provided a loving and comfortable home for him and his 5 siblings. For as long as he could remember, his childhood revolved around his family, lending a hand to his parents in the bakery, hunting with his older brothers, and getting up to mischief with his younger sister, Rena. If you asked him today, he might tell you that he never found family important. That would be a lie.
By age 15, he and Rena had grown especially close. As her limp worsened with age, she spent more and more time slung across her older brother’s back, where she missed no opportunity to encourage him to be his best self. It was through just such encouragement that he had worked up the courage to confess his budding affection to a close friend, who had agreed to meet him at their favorite spot by the lake that night. Giddy with excitement, and picking up every smooth, flat rock in sight, he hurried home to help prepare supper. But before he had even touched the kindling in the oven, flames leapt from his hands, danced around him, and soon engulfed nearly half the room. Once his parents had helped to quell the flames, he fumbled about for a reasonable explanation -- perhaps he had used too much kindling, or added too much oil -- but they had both seen enough. Their son, no doubt, was cursed -- “black-blooded” as adepts are known in Neullais, and thus could bring nothing but disgrace and misfortune to their family, or worse yet, the town at large. If he wanted to avoid The Purification, a ritual no adept had ever survived, it was clear he had no choice but to leave at once.
The sky was already dark when he reached the Timid Hare Inn in the neighboring town of Ilson, where he dared stay no longer than one night. Rummaging through his pockets for some coin, his fingers found the smooth, cold surface of a skipping stone. At once, he thought of his friend. He imagined him standing by himself on the shore of the lake, the moon rising high above. He wondered how long he waited there -- what he would think of him. It’s better this way, he thought to himself. I’d rather be thought a coward, or cruel, than be known as an adept.
Elias drifted away from Neullais, spending many nights in overcrowded inns and a fair few in empty stables or barns. He headed northwest to the Kharmont Republic, where adepts were more welcome. No nation on Etlan could truly be called a haven for adepts, but a couple jeering stares sounded better than death by purification 10 times out of 10. He took up odd jobs, cleaning dishes or tilling fields. Having been thrown so abruptly from the life he knew and loved, it felt good to work with his hands again. However, he never let himself get too comfortable. He always knew the next incident was just around the corner. The longer he tried to bottle his powers in, the more frequently they erupted unintentionally.
It was two years before his journey west brought him to the great yawning jaws of the Voidmaw Mountains, where he soon made his way to the dwarven metropolis of Everhearth. There, he found his abilities as an adept were in high demand, and acquired an apprenticeship under a prestigious armorsmith. It took several weeks before he was comfortable enough using his powers to be much use, but once he broke through his mental blocks he improved quickly. He still drew the ire of some passersby who knew him for an adept, but he gained the respect of the Everhearth craftsmen - thus achieving a near political immunity in the city. These years he spent under the earth were some of the best of his young life.
Though he much enjoyed the company of dwarves, once he had learned his craft sufficiently to forge a set of armor for himself that would serve him well in the world, he set out again to be with his own kind. Unable to return to Neullais, his wandering eventually brought him to Duskwater, where he became fast friends with a local barmaid named Cia. It seemed she could use someone to look after her, especially someone who wouldn’t make a pass at her as often as she passed by. Elias was happy to oblige. In the months that followed, Duskwater felt as much like home as anything ever could.
Personal Skill - Soulfire: Elias has an extra(seperately rolled) 10% chance to crit