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Terellion Brightwing

Head Sculpt:
Real Skin
  • Face-up artist(s):
    Date of acquisition:
    February 2016
    Purchased on layaway from Mint on Card
    Reason for choice:
    He fit the description and personality of one of my characters.
    Best Points:
    He's sturdy. He has amazing arm posing. He doesn't flop over easily.
    Worst Points:
    The knees are awful. It's like they want to be double jointed but they just don't work that way. Very disappointing. He's also very smooth in his waist and shifts from side to side too easily.
  • Eyes:
    Long and black.
    Favourite colours:
    Blue, green, brown
    Fashion style(s):
    Fantasy - warrior
  • Name story:
    Terellion, or Tellerion depending which story you're reading, is an elven male, and as such, has an elven name.
    Character age:
    Character gender:
    Offsite roleplay:
    This doll's character is not available for offsite roleplay.
    Terellion Brightwing’s first indication that something was terribly wrong was the sight of smoke rising up over the hill in the distance. It billowed up over the trees on the horizon, and drifted towards the western mountains. He urged his steed, Bronson, into a quick trot, eager to find out what was happening. Was it coming from the town? His long, pointed ears both twitched once before leaning back. The smoke rose higher as he continued along the path. He saw the destruction as he crested over the top of the hill, stopping his horse long enough to survey the valley below.
    A fire was burning at one of the farms at the edge of town. He could tell by the placement just past the small stream with a bridge over, and behind a small copse of trees, it was the Windblade’s home and farm. Beyond that, a couple of other buildings burned in town, but from this distance, even though the town was small, it was difficult to tell exactly which ones. He urged Bronson back into a quickened trot as his mind raced to make sense of what he saw happening. It was an odd occurrence to have a fire at all in their small town, much less three separate buildings burning all at once.
    As he got closer he was able to identify that one of the other buildings was the elder Windblade’s residence. The old man had moved into the town, leaving his son the farm at the edge of town only a few years ago. The location of the smoke rising from the third building worried him. It was much too close to the town’s school, but the trees growing along the town’s center square obstructed his view. He couldn’t tell for sure where it was coming from.
    As he crossed the bridge and neared the burning farmhouse and barn, one of the people who had been running buckets of water stopped, and ran towards him. It was young Brylor Landcastle, who neither owned land nor lived in a castle, though his father was on the town council. He had finished school only two years ago, and was soon to be married at the next naming day, one of the four days each year that names were given. His bride had chosen to take his name so according to the town’s tradition, they would have to wait until the next festival.
    “What’s going on? Why are there so many fires?” Terellion asked before the young man had a chance to catch his breath.
    “The dragons-” Brylor paused to breathe, “They came and demanded that we hand over Tavion Windblade to them.”
    “Tavion? He’s just a farmer. Why do they want him?”
    “He’s also the appointed sword-keeper. He’s not here anyway. The sword-” Brylor’s frown deepened into the corners of his mouth even more. “It was taken.”
    “That’s how the dragons could attack.” Terellion mused aloud. There had always been tales of the sword, and as far as he knew, all the tales were true. The first tale was that anyone who touched it would disintegrate into a pile of ashes unless they were a descendant of the person who had forged and enchanted it centuries before. The Windblades were the descendants. It was always someone in their family who had to be appointed as the sword-keeper, which was a fancy way of saying they kept the dust off it and the glass case it was kept in. It was never used in battle, and it was only important because of the other tales about it. Otherwise, such a dangerous object should have been taken to the sea and tossed in to be forgotten.
    There were stories of how it protected the area. Some said it was responsible for the longevity of the people living in Hollowmont. It was true that humans generally lived ten to twenty years longer than the average lifespan, and elves with their longer lifespan enjoyed about fifty years more. Other stories claimed it helped the crops to be some of the most bountiful in all of northern Naren. Terellion couldn’t argue that the farms that dotted the small valley did very well during harvest, and that was extremely beneficial given their long winters. Still other stories said it kept all manner of dangerous beasts away from the town with its mysterious magic. It was well known that the dragons in the mountains that towered over the eastern side of the town were not the friendly type. There was no doubt the sword had prevented them from causing trouble before this. Even during the big war a few times back when the dragons took advantage of the fighting going on in other cities, Hollowmont remained untouched. There were a few people who believed it would be very powerful in battle, but Hollowmont was normally a very quiet town.
    Terellion glanced at the burning house. “Did everyone get out?”
    “Yes, but you should go to the school right away. I heard there’s fire-”
    Terellion didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. He urged Bronson into a gallop along the hard dirt ground of the main street through the square towards the school. His hopes fell as he rode nearer, seeing that the fire had engulfed the school already. Most of the water being transported to the fire was being used on nearby buildings to keep them from catching as well. Terellion breathed a small sigh of relief upon seeing Deydesli. He rode to her and dismounted. She threw her arms around him as soon as his feet touched the ground. “Oh, Terellion, it’s so awful.”
    “Please, tell me everyone’s safe.”
    “Everyone got out of the school. The children are safe. A couple of them have scratches and bruises from having to evacuate the school so quickly, but they’re all off with their families now.
    “Even Cordal?” Terellion asked. He hoped Cordal hadn’t gone home to his burning farmhouse.
    “Yes, his mother came to get him. His father-” Deydesli paused, drawing back away from Terellion, “Have you heard?”
    “Brylor said something about Tavion not being here anymore, but then he mentioned the school burning so I raced here.”
    “He helped one of the Lords from the south steal the sword. The dragons arrived shortly after, demanding that we bring Tavion to them, but he had left with the lord. The dragons said he stole a dragon egg from them! If it’s true, I suppose it’s a good thing he left, but I feel awful for poor little Cordal. He’ll grow up knowing his father abandoned him and left him in danger with the dragons.”
    Terellion frowned, handing his horse’s reins to Deydesli. “I’m going to help with the fires. Give Bronson some extra oats for me, and we’ll talk later. There are more pressing problems right now.”
    Terellion worked throughout the rest of the afternoon, hauling buckets of water to the burning school and the surrounding buildings. As he worked he heard other news. The lord from the south who had come to take the sword ruled over one of the smaller cities south of the great city of Kingsfall. His name was Lord Miray, and his land was nestled between the mountains and the great Aduandel river. He had a reputation for ruling with tough laws, and steep consequences. Most lawbreakers were enslaved to work in the nearby mines outside his small city of Moressley. Few ever returned after being taken to the mines, or so the rumor was, even if they were only sentenced to a few days there. Terellion began to think that the sword may be gone forever if all he was hearing was true. Terellion was also glad he had taken one of the side paths next to the river for most of his trip instead of journeying on the main road to the town. The lord from the south didn’t sound like someone he would have wanted to run into.
    He later heard the unfortunate news that the elder Windblade had passed away in the fire. That left only Cordal who could retrieve the sword unless his father had a change of heart and brought it back. Cordal was much too young for such a task, having barely reached the age to start school this year. That left no one to go after the sword, at least, not until Cordal was older, and by then, anything could happen, especially without the sword’s protection over the town.
    Terellion knew the sword was just as protective underneath the town as well. He had originally arrived in Hollowmont a few years ago, leaving his hometown of Llyne behind to work for a new mining operation. Unfortunately, it shut down only a few months after starting due to rumors of something else being in the caves. Terellion had never seen any of the creatures himself, but he had read about the torukil, a pale, gaunt race that lived below the surface. They never went above ground. They had large dark eyes on their misshapen, long heads. They had no noses, breathing through a single nostril where the bridge of their nose should have been. Their mouth was a cluster of sharp teeth, and it was claimed they could move faster than the eye could see. Terellion was glad he never encountered one before the mining operation shut down. As the mine was located a distance outside of the town, near the mountains, Terellion hypothesized that the sword’s protection didn’t extend that far. Many of the new workers left, but Terellion stayed in town and started working at the school. He fixed things, and fetched supplies, usually from Westerfair, but sometimes he went as far south as Kingsfall. Occasionally, he assisted Deydesli with lessons.
    And now, he knew that soon, he would help build a new school.


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