N S T I W
Eladrin devoted to Corellon, and charged to perfect his service through arcane mastery.
Eladrin Wizard, level 1 (multiclass invoker)
STR 12, CON 13, DEX 12, INT 18, WIS 14, CHA 11
Fortitude 11, Reflex 14, Will 14, AC (TBD but probably 14)
HP 23, Surge value 5, Surges/day 7
Eladrin Education: + Perception Skill
Trained Skills: Arcana, Nature, History, Dungeoneering
Feat: Acolyte of Divine Secrets (+ Religion Skill, Divine Bolts 1/encounter)
Arcane Implement Mastery: Tome of Readiness
At-wills: Cantrips, Thunderwave, Magic Missile
Encounter 1: Force Orb (tome: Orbmaster’s Incendiary Detonation)
Daily 1: Grease, Acid Arrow
Rituals Mastered: Floating Disc, Comprehend Languages, Silence
Personality: Quiet, but more in the “watchful” sense than the “withdrawn” sense
Revelle was born into a family deeply devoted to Corellon, but not actually dedicated to priesthood or other formal service. His parents and his older sister simply “felt the pull” in their hearts to honor Corellon in all things.
The pull in Revelle’s heart led him to live as a temple servant for ten years after finishing his formal education. He wanted to do more than simply honor the god; he wanted to understand. He petitioned five different times to be invested as a Cleric, but the church leaders’ divinations always indicated that was not the god’s will. Revelle tried to genuinely accept Corellon’s decision on the matter, but each rejection left him more dispirited until he felt he was having a genuine crisis of faith.
His last rejection came on the Spring Equinox – the day most sacred to Corellon – and mere hours before the Twilight Mass. Revelle’s heart finally broke, and he fled the temple in despair. By the time dusk fell, the eladrin sat weeping in a grotto near his childhood home, feeling all the more forlorn and helpless because he could not understand.
Revelle had not heard anyone approach, but he became aware of a warmth beside him, like someone was sitting there. He did not want company, but his throat was still too choked with tears to tell the visitor to go away. He kept his eyes shut and his head down, hoping that whoever had come to him would speak quickly and then leave. Neither happened. Eventually Revelle was unable to sustain his apprehension and slumped down into a new level of despair, hating himself for having imagined that anyone would have come to show concern for him here.
It was like the voice had been waiting for precisely that moment.
“It is in the darkness that you see the stars.”
Revelle had heard that saying nearly every day in the temple, and had probably said it several times himself to comfort others, but to hear it now was nothing but more pain. He grunted and turned away from the voice.
“That’s why, you know. Clerics are in the business of faith, but you want to understand and not just believe. It isn’t a bad thing, but it doesn’t make for a good Cleric, either.”
This prompted Revelle to look up, though he wasn’t yet ready to actually face the voice. “But then…how?” he asked the grass at his feet.
“Look at me,” the voice gently insisted. “You’ll never understand me if you won’t even look at me.”
Revelle turned his head and saw what looked like an eladrin, not much older than him…and then it became an outlined figure, traced by the light of falling stars, and the space between the streaks of light was filled with the dust of a million other stars…and then it was an eladrin again. Revelle’s heart filled with a holy wonder that made him lose control of his jaw, and it hung slack.
Corellon placed his hand on Revelle’s chest, and it froze and burned and soothed him all at once. (To this day Revelle marvels that there is no mark or scar from that touch.)
“I am where the arcane becomes divine,” the god sang directly into Revelle’s heart. “Understand magic and you will begin to understand me. Learn to direct its flow and you will find the road your soul yearns to travel.” Corellon then vanished, and Revelle sat in wonder until the sun rose.
Revelle spent the next ten years apprenticed to the wizard Thanion, and then another ten at the Arcane Academy in Eburneum, and then ten years after that as a direct pupil of the Academy’s headmistress Cadranniel. The headmistress had not seen such an ardent student in decades, and she bequeathed him her technique of magical shorthand which allowed him to occasionally alter the nature of his intermediate spells, to make them more versatile. (OOC: This character’s Tome of Readiness power will always be similar in damage type or other effect to the selected encounter power – for example, Incendiary Detonation starts out similar to a Force Orb.)
During his thirty years of study, Revelle has come to prefer spells that do force damage, since they look and feel more like “pure magic” to him. He also has a strong distaste for spells that do psychic damage or create fearful illusions – attacking a creature’s body is fine, but attacking its mind is appalling.
Of the three rituals he left the Academy knowing, he kind of regrets one. He mastered the Silence ritual because he was under the mistaken impression that it suppressed sound inside the ritual’s area of effect; he had intended to use it to help him study. It has helped him in that capacity a few times, when very creatively applied, but he wouldn’t have chosen it if he’d understood its nature correctly to begin with.
When Cadranniel released Revelle from his studies under her, she gifted him with a vial of residuum, because it could be used for any ritual he knew then or ever learned in the future. While Revelle definitely appreciates its versatility, he has never used it, and he finds it bothers him to think about how it was obtained. He cannot abide the thought of destroying a magical creation.