Alrum Eldran

Tall, silver haired (long), golden eyed weary looking elf.


Arum Eldran EK, High Elf, 190 cm, 90kg, 373 yo
20 str 17+3 /5/(1 master heavy, 2 ASI)
16 con 16 /
17 int 16+1 (high elf) /3/
13 dex 11
2 (elf) /1/
13 wis 13 /
10 char 10 /+0/
Hp: levelx d10 (81) + Con mod (36)=117
AC: 22
Prof. bonus: 4
feats: alert, heavy armor master, mage slayer, war caster

Fighting style: dueling: +2dmg on 1-handed weps

Skills: athletics, insight, perception(high elf), arcana (bg)

Armor: All armor, shields
Weapons: Simple weapons, martial weapons
Tools: smith tools
Saving Throws: Strength, Constitution

Language: common, elven, celestial, infernal, deva
Cantrip: booming blade, mending, green flame blade (high elf), frostbite
1st level: shield, absorb elements, prot. from good/evil, find familiar, thunder wave
2nd level: shatter, gust of wind, hold person
Equip: 70 gp
cloak of protection 1 AC, admantine splint 17AC (uc), shield2®, sunblade®

Ink (1 ounce bottle) 10 gp
Ink pen 2 cp
Mirror, steel 5 gp 1/2 lb
Oil (flask) 1 sp 1 lb.
Rope, hempen (50 feet) 1 gp 10 lb.,
Soap 2 cp —
Spikes, iron (10) 1 gp 5 lb,
Tinderbox 5 sp 1 lb.,
Backpack 2 gp 5 lb.,
Book 25 gp 5 lb.,
Caltrops (bag of 20) 1 gp 2 lb.,
Case, map or scroll 1 gp 1 lb.,
Clothes, traveler’s 2 gp 4 lb.,
Component pouch 25 gp 2 lb,
Crowbar 2 gp 5 lb,
Flask 2 cp 1 lb.,
Lantern, hooded 5 gp 2 lb.


Eldran always stood out with his height, unusual for his kind, earning himself the childhood nicknames of Talltree and Birdwatch. Born as the only heir of a smaller militaristic noble family, his path was set on following in his father’s footsteps. Despite living in an era of peace, his instructors at the military academy were not easy on their pupils. As the years passed in the academy, his aptitude to the magical arts made him a candidate for the order of arcane knights and was eventually chosen as the apprentice of Ail Gwyndellin, a renowned and highly active member of the order. Under her tutelage Eldran tempered his blade, infused his mind with the ethereal world. During one of their usual expeditions, they were the first to discover signs of a magic that was foreign and felt fundamentally evil to them. Although his master’s warning of these findings didn’t go unheared, no further evidence have been found, and any tracks they followed lead to dead ends. Only when it was too late, did the medans reveal themselves and unleashed the final piece of a terrible spell of darkness and blood. Empowered by the sacrifice of hundreds of his kindred people a hole was ripped into space itself, swallowing much of his city into another world. His own life was saved by a friend’s spell, that brought them out of the city before it’s destruction. It took weeks for the shaken and terrified people to overcome the following chaos. Much of the city, and many of the people were lost and the reassebmled elder council decided againts sending any more to unknown danger, despite the possibility that the already shrinking gates would be closed forever. Instead, they urged the recovery of the city, the mourning of the dead and the fortification of their magical defences. Having lost his family in the attack, and his master missing, Eldran could not agree to this decision. Gathering what was left of his heritage, he requested the help of his closest friend one last time, stabilising a smaller dimensional tear that let him follow the perpetrators of his loss, swearing to hunt them till the last falls by his blade. After a short but immensely painful travel through dimensions he arrived on the other side of the tear, facing a new, unknown world. After a short series of encounters, despite the difficulty in communication and culture, he was able to join the war effort againts his foes, who were already known by the residents of this plane. Fighting on their side, his skills were proven useful in dealing with the medan’s foul magic, his skills further improved and were honed to disrupt and prevent his enemies from evoking their dark powers. The following years were filled with battles, assasinations, skrimishes small and large, until finally the last of their cursed race was vanquished. After the threat was over, and the memory of war faded from the minds of humans they returned to their lives and continued their bickering among themselves. Eldran took part in the festivities following the war, and spent his time traveling around the continent after, trying to learn more about this new world, and maybe find traces of his own people. As he traveled, the years passed, and the few friends he made aged terribly fast, eventually passing away in but a handful of decades. The only person he knew and was still breathing was the Old King, but due to his disposition it was difficult to reach him, and with time his seclusion made him unapproachable. This new world changing so fast around him, and his purpose for vengence gone, loneliness weigthed heavily on his heart. He longed for his people and began to search for a way to return home. It was in his quest to find the way, that he met a wizard named Amarel, who shared his interest in dimensional travel. Together they continued their research, going through ruins of forgotten civilizations, studying… Old magic. As time went on, they grew close, eventually falling in love. But Eldran knew how fast humans fell to years, and so began to search for a sollution. Returning to his own realm could not have helped to extend Amarel’s life, and so he turned to other possiblities. Ironically it was the medans who weakened the barrier between certain planes, and so they came upon the Feywild, where in certain regions time was flowing in different ways, and it was there they found a home. They lived in relative peace, occisionally disturbed by the whims of the feywild. He made a living by lending his sword and knowledge to those in need, while his beloved’s arcane power provided them with comfort and a life of ease. Alas, although her years were extended exceptionally, Amarel grew old and breathed her last. A few months later, while still in mourning Eldran heared disturbing news from Salamira. A new curse was haunting the lands, and it reeked of the influence he knew too well. His oath, never forgotten, beckoned him back to a path of strife. Donning his elven armor, the last remnant of his ancestral heritage, wielding his shield, a war trophy won from a medan lord (although it wasn’t a game, and participation was mandatory), grabbing Shadeslayer, a sword gifted by the Old King for his service, and his cloak, woven by his beloved to keep him safe on his travels (and gathering other essential items for adventuring that woud be too long to list here), he sat out to hunt again.

Alrum Eldran

Mists of Salamira rufus_DM neverreadletters