| Relatives | Deceased |
|---|---|
| Languages | Common, Elvish, Sylvan |
| Affiliations | Last Lady of the Bramble Wood |
| Aliases | Palúrien, Wanderfey, Lady of Brambles |
| Marital Status | Widowed |
| Place of Birth | Western Reaches of the Bramble Wood |
| Species | Elf (Eladrin) |
| Gender | Female |
| Height | 6' 3" |
| Weight | 174 lbs. |
| Eye Color | Purple |
Lady Palúrien Taurënasse is an eladrin barbarian by training. She had to flee her home when her entire court was betrayed on her wedding day.
Physical Appearance[edit | edit source]
Palúrien is an eladrin who has always most strongly associated with Spring. Regardless of her season, she has long white hair and purple eyes. Her skin color shifts when she changes seasons from a green in Spring, to a Summer yellow, to a pale flesh tone like other humanoids in Autumn and a blue tone in her Winter aspect. She is above average height for an elf, and has a muscular build from her years of sword practice.
Personality[edit | edit source]
Despite her tragedy, Palúrien tries to remain friendly and light most of the time, although her first response to a problem is to consider violence. Her moods have been mercurial as of late, with her often waking in a different seasonal aspect each day. Her husband was the diplomat of the pair, and provided significant stability for them both, but since he was murdered at their wedding, Palúrien has no one she both likes and trusts well enough to check her more violent nature. Despite this, she is patient, and knows the value of delaying gratification for a greater result later. Her fury burns deep, but ever-present beneath the surface and ready to be unleashed on any unsuspecting foes. Her primary goal right now is increasing in personal power, but her secondary goal is to develop allies who would be willing to face the risk of certain death with and for her when she eventually returns to the Bramble Wood.
History[edit | edit source]
Lady Palúrien Taurënasse was born in the feywild to two other eladrin parents. They lived in a small elven city in a section of the wild known as the Bramble Wood, where she was to become the next lady of the wood upon the retiring of her parents from their roles of leadership. She was never truly content with this path, despite learning of it as a youth, and when she reached her majority in her hundredth years, she selected a name for herself that reflected a desire to go out and explore rather than remain and rule the wood. Yet, her plans changed over the years as she fell in love with Anarcalin Estecovanin, her Sun-bright Bringer of Peace. With him beside her, suddenly centuries of rule in a single place did not seem so terrible, and in fact seemed like it could be a glorious adventure in its own right. Their courtship lasted a decade before the wedding was set, and those years were the happiest in Palúrien's life.
The plan, following their wedding was to spend another twenty years or so in a gradual transition of power from her parents to the new couple, but this plan never came to pass. The Bramble Wood bordered many a dangerous part of the fey realm, and yet it remained mostly at peace with its neighboring realms due to the impassible brambles that blocked all but the most powerful of unwanted visitors to the domain. Yet, in a show of good will, the groom convinced Palúrien that a show of good faith would be warranted, and representatives of the neighboring territories allowed into the realm to witness the wedding and foster in a new period of understanding between nations. The sitting Lord and Lady agreed, and the barriers were let down to permit a few parties of attendees, but unbeknownst to all of them, it was not the guests that posed the greatest threat, but one of the Bramble Wood's own.
At least one of the must trusted guards of the realm betrayed everything it stood for that night. Whether this individual was suborned, or had long been conspiring with the dark forces that invaded, Palúrien does not, and may never know. But what is clear is that during the wedding ceremony the great barriers of brambles were turned from being a protective shield, to a thorned cage. Word of this change was slow to reach the wedding party as the ceremony completed and the guests stood to applaud. The first sign of trouble was when the walls, floor and ceiling of the chamber, all made from the living wood at the heart of the city all erupted in spikes, trapping everyone inside. Within moments of this, an impossible horde of shadowy creatures began to swarm the area, quickly overwhelming the few guards and the mostly unarmed guests. But that is when the worst of the foul happenings of the night began: rather than cause their victims to fall dead, these blows instead corrupted the forms of those they struck, causing a foul taint to spread across them and turning them into yet more foes.
With considerable skill and use of magic, but not without cost, the wedding party fought their way free of the heart of the tree only to see the shadowy forces rapidly expanding across the entire city. Palúrien's mother fell first, intercepting a barrage of spikes being shot from a shadowy form at the entire group with a magical barrier, but toppling from the top of the tree to fall to the ground nearly a hundred feet below. Her father was next, his rage causing him to unleash forbidden wild fire magic while they were still within the heart of the city. While at first this seemed to clear a way, the shadows drew back only momentarily before smothering the fires, and snuffing any remaining light in her father's eyes. Still, his sacrifice allowed Palúrien and her new husband, Anarcalin to escape the city. Unfortunately, this was when it became clear to them that the protections of the realm were protections no more. Even turned from their original purpose, however, the brambles at the edge of the Wood could do no harm, nor impede the motion of Palúrien, for she carried in her the blood and the blessing of the Elven gods. Anarcalin, however, lacked this protection. His marriage into the family had been completed, but without a child to tie his blood into the magic of the realm, he had no way to pass through the now confining thorns.
There, at the edge of the realm, the two argued, Palúrien refusing to go through the brambles alone, and Anarcalin unable to force her. They could find a way for him to go through, she insisted. Perhaps one of the gate passages would be less blocked than the portion of the bramble wall they found themselves at. For precious minutes, she had hope, but as they neared one of the gateway arches, it became clear that the shadowy forces had thoroughly infested the place and were expanding inward. With pursuit behind, and more forces ahead, there was no hope of escape, not for Anarcalin, at least. Knowing that Palúrien would not abandon him while even the barest shred of life—and therefore hope—remained in him, Anarcalin made an impossible choice. Rather than wait until the dark forces closed on them, and there would be little chance Palúrien could escape even through the brambles, and rather than allow himself to be wounded and twisted into some corrupted creature of darkness himself there was only one option: to end his own life.
With the certainty of the situation, he hesitated only a moment, locking his eyes on Palúrien's and whispering a final farewell, before raising his shortsword to his own chest, and stabbing himself through the heart. Palúrien screamed, a broken sound of sorrow and despair, and she rushed back toward her husband, but too late. He struck himself true, and all she could do was held him in her arms as his eyes grew dim, the sun-bright fire within them fading for the first and only time in Palúrien's memory. But there was no time to dwell on her loss, as the pursuing forces were closing on her even then. She gave her husband a final kiss goodbye and turned, fleeing through the Bramble barrier, and escaping the death trap their realm had become.
Once on the other side, Palúrien collapsed in heart-broken agony. Her people, her land, her family, her husband were all gone, dead, or perhaps even worse. She could not know what power corrupted so many of her people, or whether the souls of those that fell before being struck by the twisted darkness were any safe from its evil. All she could do is hope and pray that at the very least those that died could not be turned into more forces for this great evil. She lay there for what felt like an eternity, or could have been as little as a few hours, wracked with sobbing and an inescapable feeling of guilt that she had escaped while no one else could have. But eventually, she fell unconscious, exhausted from her ordeal and the end of her adrenaline. Although elves normally do not sleep, her exhaustion, both physical and mental, driving her deep beyond the point where a trance would be sufficient.
In her sleep, she dreamed, as humans do, the events of the day returning to her mind with further, fresh details that she could not have witnessed first-hand: the thousands of deaths of her people, people she knew, loved, and cared for began to flood her mind. Horror after horror as eladrin, young and old were either slain or corrupted into indistinct shadowy figures, or both. Until, at the point where her mind was about to break, where the weight of it all was about to crush her mind and soul under it, a bright, white flame surrounded her, scouring away the darkness and leaving her safely surrounded by its heat. In moments, the vision around her shifted, becoming a broad empty white marble chamber where a tall, muscular elven man stood above her. He reached down to lay a hand on her shoulder, saying, "You have suffered greatly, child of Corellon. The darkest of deeds has been wrought today, and you have lost much, but you are not alone in the pain you feel now. Rise, for I, Shevarash see into your heart, and it is not yet broken." The man's hand moved from her shoulder, and Palúrien reached up to grip it, using the elven demigod's strength to help steady herself as she did as instructed. As she did so, the weight of the loss on her soul seemed to shift and lift from her, although she could somehow sense that this was only a temporary reprieve. But now, standing on her feet, she met Shevaresh's eyes, her gaze firm. This being, she recognized, Shevaresh, elven god of vengeance, loss, and hatred. A powerful foe of the drow and their Spider Queen above all else, and a fierce warrior in the divine pantheon.
"Good," he said. "Now you must choose, Palúrien Taurënasse, lady of the Bramble Wood, will you allow this burden of loss to be taken from you? There is one willing to accept it, and you into her embrace. But with it you will have to give much more of yourself. Or, will you take it back, along with everything you loved?"
Palúrien swallowed, wavering slightly, but thinking back over her life, her love, and how she would never want to give up any bit of her feelings for Anarcalin or the rest of her family or her people. "Lord Shevaresh, I would take up the burden, but... I am afraid I lack the strength, that it will break me and I cannot bear it, not alone."
Shevaresh's reply echoed through the vision around them. "Then it is good that you are not alone, for I am with you, and I can lend you my strength until you find within you enough of your own to carry it without my aid. A foul evil has been perpetrated here this day, one all too similar to the great betrayal of the Spider Queen and her ilk, and it must not go unanswered."
Fury and loss burning in her own eyes and heart, Palúrien nodded. "And I will answer it, even if it takes me decades or centuries to do so. I swear it."
"Then I swear to you, Palúrien Taurënasse, that I will aid this quest, though I can tell that the drow, foul as they are, are not the culprits of this perversion, it is well worthy of my intervention. Your blade shall be blessed to cut down any foes that stand between you and this vengeance. But more, I promise you this: Even should you fall, you will have aid and support in returning to the fight. So long as your task remains unfinished, the magic of mortals to restore you to the fight shall not bear its customary cost. Even should your body be destroyed, so long as your name is remembered, and your vengeance not yet accomplished, I will preserve for you a path to chase it. Do you accept this charge, and the burdens along with it?"
Palúrien does not hesitate this time. "Yes, lord, I will fight with my last breath to see the forces which caused this evil to infest my lands destroyed, and I will fight beyond that so long as you grant me the power to do so." As she speaks, she feels the burden of loss settle onto her once again, but not all of it, only as much as she can bear and still function.
"Then you must begin by seeking strength, for you lack the power to face the threats arrayed before you. Seek passage to the material realm, where you will find many opportunities to grow in power and experience until you are ready to face the challenges here. Know also, that you should not do so alone. No matter your personal strength, this is not a battle you will be able to face without allies. Seek them out, and when the time comes, bring them back here. When you are ready, or if you are lost, commune with me once more and I will offer you what guidance I can. But know this, the Brambles are now aligned to allow anything into the Wood, but nothing out. Any who travel in with you must need succeed or die trying." Sheravesh then placed one hand on Palúrien's upper arm, and the other on her forehead. "Now go, with my blessing."
Palúrien nodded, and feeling a sudden lurch in the pit of her stomach, she blinked once, twice, and returned to herself lying on the ground just outside the Bramble Barrier. Slowly she rose, brushing her wedding finery off and gazing briefly at the wall of thorns before turning away. If the material plane was where she must go, then she'd better get going. She offered a brief prayer of thanks to Sheravesh, before striding away with a renewed sense of purpose and a firm goal in mind.
And that, is how she finds herself on her way to join whatever campaign she ends up a part of.
Languages[edit | edit source]
Common, Elvish, Sylvan
Powers and Abilities[edit | edit source]
Palúrien's tactics are fairly simple. She chases foes down and strikes them with her greatsword or other bladed weapon. She's trained with axes and hammers as well, but finds the feel of a sword swing far more satisfying. She was blessed by the Seldarine demigod Shevarash in her eventual pursuit of vengeance. She knows it is a long-term goal, but she has hundreds of years to perfect the pursuit of sufficient power to realize her goal, and she knows she currently lacks anywhere close to the strength to return and properly cleanse her home of the evil that has infested it.
