Thilevaliir Alenuath

[lakhena]

Thilevaliir Alenuath
Race: Teu’tel’quessir (moon elf)
Origin: Leuthilspar, Evermeet, more recently of Evereska

Eyes: dark green, flecked with gold
Hair: black
Skin tone: pale, like most moon elves
Build: slender but toned

Appearance:
Thilevaliir appears no more than in her early 20s, by human standards. There is nothing remarkable about the young moon elven maiden -- she is average in appearance and quite average in height. Given her slender frame, she is sometimes mistaken for an elven male, a common occurrence in non-elven lands. Such mistakes she does not correct, finding mild amusement in the aftermath of when the truth is realized.

She wears her long black hair loose, hiding the pale tattoo of a full moon upon the back of her neck. No other visible marks adorn her body, though from time to time, she will streak her cheeks with silvery blue paint before a hunt.

Her weapons include a standard longbow, with a full quiver of black-feathered arrows, as well as a pair of daggers upon her hips. One appears old, with silvered runes written in Espruar upon the blade to 'remember.' The other blade is merely sharp and well-used, the serrated edges not always cleaned of the blood it's tasted.

History:
Thilevaliir is the third daughter of a lower branch of House Alenuath of Evermeet. This allowed her more freedoms than her sisters, who both became respected priestesses of the Luminous Cloud. Though Thilevaliir herself is mooncalled, she finds signs of the goddess more often in the moon filled glades, deep in the wooded valleys, and in the hidden groves that others overlook.

Thilevaliir was in Evereska, visiting a beloved cousin, when the phaerimm attacked the vale that was once thought to be impenetrable. With the screams of the dying, young and old, etched in her memory, Thilevaliir pledged herself in the service of the Daughter of the Night Sky, not as an anointed priestesses, but as one of her hunters - to seek and destroy all those that would despoil the land, to act instead of reacting, to strike the first arrow and drive fear into those who would dare conceive of harming what the elven people hold dear.

Patron Deities:
Sehanine Moonbow (primary), though she honors all of the Seldarine

Goals:
She is investigating the disappearance of one of the Seldarine's blessed in the Cormyr region, but is expected to report to the faithful in the region and aid where she is needed.

[lakhena]

The 12th of Eleint

I write to keep a record, that no others need follow my footsteps and wonder where I have been, what I have done in my time here, and what became of me. Perhaps that last may become a mystery, given to a newly initiated to unravel. Just as I must. Only one quessir here I spoken with at length of my intent, and though he gave me no name to call him by, I found him worthy enough to leave a black-fletched arrow in his care. He knows the one I seek, but nothing of why, nor what will happen afterwards. Despite this, he has given his word to inform me when the quessir is found.

In the meantime, I search for the wardens of these lands. I have seen signs of the Beastlord's foul minions, and they must be dealt with. Swiftly.

I must also remember to watch the one who calls himself a paladin. This man may fool others, but I know he tests the limits of what others will tolerate for the sake of peace. My arrows are ready and willing.

[lakhena]

The 13th of Eleint

I had to stifle a laugh today as the yet to be named quessir warned me that one of the local farmer's errant chickens could be a druid, listening to our conversation. As if druids hadn't better things to do than eavesdrop on the wordplay between two new acquaintances. He seemed disconcerted by the notion of taking another form and directly evaded my question. It makes me wonder what poor experience he had to make him so cautious of those who live and die to protect the lands and creature of the wilds.

I pray I do not make a fast dinner of these guardians with too much time upon their hands.

Elvorfin is perhaps another quessir that can aid me in my search. She appears trustworthy, but naive in the ways of our people, though her instincts are what I expect. She seeks the wardens of these lands, as I do. And for that, I gave her one of my moonblessed stones with a warning to watch for those of the Beastlord's following.

[lakhena]

The 14th day of Eleint

I shall have to give them all names, just as the "gentleman adventurer" reminded me of one I had been given years ago. However, the names and the faces of n'tel'quessir are dreadfully difficult to remember. If they have told me nothing of note to remember them by, I have taken to paying attention to what they wield, where they like to sit or stand in the town that sits atop the tomb of Lord Valindor's final resting place, and what they wear, as people here do not seem to change their clothes often.

The one who speaks our tongue told me many of his kind are jealous of tel'quessir. He was a font of information, some of more use than others. I find it humorous he thinks I would consult a half-Orc on the path to the Hullack. Did he live amidst the sy'tel'quessir and learn nothing of our hatred for those bearing Gruumsh's blood? I suppose he is young and human, and should therefore be forgiven this ignorance.

Fortunately, he has other wisdom that speaks in his favor -- for one, he seems to know the source of whatever anxiety our talented archer tries to hide.

[lakhena]

The 17th day of Eleint

Knowing no others in the service of Sehanine, I watched the moon rise to its full height in solitude, to observe the Lunar Hallowing. This eve, her face was marked with tinges of red -- an ominous sign for what will come or for what these lands already suffer? It seemed fitting, given what passed earlier.

So focused on whether my arrows found their mark in felling those abominations in Lord Valindor's final resting place that I lost sight of the other quessir around me. Tahlkathli blamed himself for nearly sending Lana early to Arvandor, but I know I am not without fault. I need to be swifter and truer to serve my lady well.

I have not made much progress with my purpose here, but I must learn patience and watch for more signs.

[lakhena]

The 19th day of Eleint

The one named Marister does not know what he holds now in his hands, the significance of it. So light a thing, and yet so heavy a burden for what it represents. I pray they understand my message, that there is still one among them to receive it.

A great leap of faith I took, in trusting it to his care, despite the warnings against him, the man. I can see why the other n'tel'quessir fear him. Words slide easily from his lips, without imparting much meaning. Safe answers he gave me to each and every question given him, guarded in their own way. Perhaps moreso than my own. And yet, I find the dance refreshing.

I will watch for another omen, while I continue my hunt. At least now, I have several names. Names without faces, but not for long.

[lakhena]

The bedding was lumpy, and when she reached for the blanket to ease the morning chill, it was just out of easy reach, partially covering her legs but too far to bother spending additional effort. The elf scrunched her nose, the sensation of something brushing against her face just enough to prevent her from drifting back to that comfortable state of half awareness right after rousing from an evening rest.

It ached just to lift her hand to try to swipe away the pesky piece of lint or whatever it was that broke her deep reverie. She ached everywhere, in fact. The gashes from the gnoll blades still stung, despite the ointments, tinctures, and excessive bandaging. She groaned, muttering softly about what Sorenthas might say about her sorry state.

Sorenthas. The name reminded her of one or two other things, and she cracked her eyes open. There was a large green cabbage, right beside her head. She blinked and looked to the other side. A cucumber. She pushed aside the cabbage and rolled over to her side, before slowly easing herself up. Those lumps were from some half-developed gourds she had crushed in her usage of them as bedding.

Thil'evaliir wasn't certain how she had come to lay in the vegetable patch, but she was certain the farmer wasn't going to be pleased to find the imprint of a bloodied elf amidst his lavender and potatoes. With a sigh, she picked up the errant green cloak tangled about her feet and deposited a pouch full of herbs she hadn't yet seen in that region. The small note accompanying her apology gift warned that seeping them in tea for too long might produce other effects beyond soothing the nerves.

It was time to find her companions from the night prior to ensure they were in a far better state.

{{ Folks are welcome to have seen Thil'evaliir in the vegetable patch in Greatgaunt and RP accordingly.}}

[lakhena]

The 26th day of Eleint

Tahlathki showed me one of the caverns where the orcbloods hid. They are numerous in the countryside, preying upon our people and those of this land indiscriminately, from the atrocities we uncovered. The half-blooded that lingers in the settlement above Lord Valindor's final resting place is a result of their cruelty upon one of our own. A sharp reminder why we must act without hesitation, hunt without mercy.

I have yet to find where those of the Beastlord gather, though signs of them are everywhere, for those who can read them. Perhaps the faceless one can show me. And even if he does not, I will discover them in time.

The faceless one. He is said to have attempted to draw the blood of quessir, accusations made by the one I found lingering in the graveyard and another. I know not if she is weak or half-witted, perhaps both. Perhaps they are both affected by something similar in nature. When I spoke with the one they called Fenix, he seemed to have full control of his senses, sparring with me in a manner few have. He seemed nothing like the man they accused.

But I know all too well how one's true nature can be hidden - behind a coy smile, beneath pristine reputation, or the mantle of sorrow. It is my charge to pierce these facades, to train my arrow where it must.

[lakhena]

The 10th day of Marpenoth

The circle now knows of the passing of one of their own, and their leader, the one named Taran has pledged his aid for the falling of feathers and the silencing of a song.

Though the wardens remain hidden, whispers on the wind from all I have spoken with save a discreet few, the Luminous Cloud has revealed the path to a shrine, hidden deep within the wilds, past woods and marsh alike, a stone's throw from giants who toss boulders as easily as I nock my arrows. There I have spent my evenings the past few weeks, save for these past few days, waiting, watching, and praying.

I interrupt my vigil and hunt with the others, for a man who boldly pretends to not be amongst the living. He makes a mockery of the vileness and threat of the undead, and yet his very actions have made it easier to see where the various adventurers and so-called heroes of this land stand. Some have taken up arms, some stand unconcerned, and yet others leap to the defense of necromancy. These latter I bind to memory, writing their names upon the tips of my arrows. Complacency is harm enough, but condoning and harboring those who ought be condemned for the most vile of acts is just as deplorable as if they had committed such acts themselves. They enable and thus, they are equally guilty.