Mordathren's page

Mordathren met death early in life, when his mother fell victim to a sudden yet devastating disease. The loss was especially hard for the child, astonished by how even what seemed endless could so swiftly wither away. Seeing how his son was so deeply affected, the grieving father opted for distancing them both from his wife’s very memory, now tarnished by suffering, and exchanged their quiet elven homelands for a life in the big city of Isarn. A precocious child, the intelligent elven boy had to grow up way too soon, competing with the faster developing humans, and went to find a trade for himself as quickly as he could.

Mordathren fell in love with alchemy at first contact. The endless possibilities of transformation, the uncountable wonders made true by something as simple as the right combination of basic mundane materials, it was indescribably fascinating. He became an apothecary apprentice, devoting himself at first to the study of diseases. A short time later, he had learned enough to rival his master, and soon grew restless. Tired with the mundane use of alchemy, he began experimenting with unstable formulas, developing dangerous concoctions that were as ingenious as prone to provoke lab accidents.

The master apothecary gave up after the third time his house caught fire, so Mordathren joined a guild to continue his education. The dedicated elf was promising enough to earn a place in one of Galt’s once renowned universities. He was welcomed by likeminded individuals who were impressed by his talent. The right place, at last! He matured among free thinkers and philosophers, absorbing its ideals, holding intellectuality, reason and logic in great value. Within a few years, the studious Mordathren became recognized as a true alchemist and received leave to pursue his own research, much for the guild’s profit.

The excitable elf was exceedingly diligent and would provide the institution with valuable service. As the political climate changed, blowing winds of incoming conflict, Mordathren also acted as a consultant to militant groups and even participating in the field once in a while. He became a specialist in developing medicine, explosives and innovative defense chemicals as a mean to earn quick income that was later used to fund his increasingly elaborate main studies. Although such devotion was admirable, some of his fellow alchemists would sometimes wander if Mordathren wasn’t becoming way too absorbed in his work, but the early signs of trouble were then, as they often are, put aside by dismissive shrugs. Surely it was nothing to worry about. Must be an elven thing.

In reality, Mordathren’s obsession with the concept of transformation grew way beyond healthy proportions. Why heal the body when you could perfect it? After meddling with substances and ingredients, he started trying to alter flesh and blood, experimenting on his own body. The change was subtle, at first, but later even the most detached of his colleagues could notice how his behavior became more erratic and evasive, his personality increasingly anxious and callous as his research deepened, while the long, sleepless nights and substantial amounts of invigorating elixirs took their toll.

Then came the revolution, the first of many. Between the weight of tyranny and the desire for freedom, Galt rose at last only to descend into chaos. That day, majestic Isarn turned into a battlefield.

When the fight reached the guild’s district, instead of running to safety, the young alchemist took the opportunity to showcase the practical uses of his inventions. The bombs worked too well. In the end, all that was left was a spreading fire that lasted for days. Truth be told, this wasn’t entirely his doing – the angry mobs were well capable of setting everything on fire without explosives – but the consequences of Mordathren’s transformation, the apex of his insanely brilliant work gone awry, were no one’s fault but his own. Even though he argued that his handiwork was paramount in avoiding a greater disaster, and that given enough research he would certainly be able to remedy the berserk side effect, Mordathren was shunned for his irresponsible use of magic and forbidden to practice his craft. He left Isarn the next day, unwilling to meet his end at the guillotine.

On the road, Mordathren was branded a dangerous outsider at best, a cheliaxian sympathizer at worst, yet somehow he managed to escape Galt alive. The disappointment and crushing guilt that followed his banishment grew as his darker needs emerged more and more. Much like his homeland, the elf had become a shadow of his former self, witnessing the demise of his old personality, under deep addiction. He roamed aimlessly for a long time, fleeing the darkness of his own actions, until he met salvation in the most improbable way.

Not many people dared to accompany Mordathren during his darkest days, but those who did were really unique individuals. The most unique of all, a wise traveler that claimed she understood the elf very well. She knew what it meant to be driven by desire, a deep urge that couldn’t possibly be stopped. And it shouldn’t be, for this is the same force that pushes towards greatness. From her, Mordathren learned that his base nature wasn’t rotten, only badly focused. He was meant to pursue his studies, now if only he could do it better. I can show you how, she said. He accepted.
Mordathren wandered for years, slowly learning to control his addiction. Or, as the traveler that introduced him to the worship of Urgathoa put it, direct it properly. Channeling his obsession through faith pulled him out of the spiral of self-destruction. Gone were the maddening craves, the uncontrolled violence, leaving behind an unstable yet mostly functional young man.

The road led Mordathren through many cities, where he would earn a living the same way as before, peddling his knowledge, and would eventually leave for the same reasons as well, usually because someone took offense on his personal exploits, or because his self-control slipped slightly, revealing his base nature in some undesirable manner. Eventually this circle led him to cross paths with representatives of the Dark Archive, who take great interest in talented scholars who show no fear in dealing with knowledge that would make others wet their beds. The arrangement worked perfectly for Mordathren as well. He would have means to enhance his skills, improve his knowledge, and maybe finally not be expelled if he decided to do something with it.