Telperion's brown hair is short, giving full view to his grey, intense eyes.
Studious by nature, he spent his childhood in an almost obsessive quest for knowledge. No book was too long, too old, or too forbidden to escape his notice. A talent for magic was poorly pursued, a victim of his desire to always learn something new versus the arcanist’s need to learn something well. (He has not given up on this talent, however, even if he pursues it with a young person’s sense of abundant time.) With his expansive memory, he is always ready with a fact, example, anecdote or aside.
Unfortunately, Telperion lacks almost all the social graces of his race. He is excitable, impulsive, consumed by details and thus almost completely incapable of small talk or other conversation governed by social norms. He blurts, he thinks out loud, he equivocates. Thus, his company is tiresome to elves, and if it were not for his excellent fencing skills, he would have perhaps been disowned by the entire race.
But he is essentially good natured. He likes most people, feels a great deal of empathy for their pains and their passions, and can be counted upon to help. He has learned that while he almost always says the wrong thing, he most often does the right.
Telperion dreams of finding the adventure promised in the many books he’s read, of touching a part of history, of being, in his way, a hero. This thirst has led him past locks and through windows on numerous occasions, and he admits to himself that things learned without permission give him the greatest satisfaction.
Nevertheless, he is without greed or guile in almost every other way. He doesn’t lie, cheat, and has never stolen anything that he didn’t return after a few days.
Telperion’s parents lived in Southshore, in Korvosa, where his father earned a marginal living as a scribe and his mother tutored elven to the other races. Several years ago, Telperion was sent to live with “an old friend” of his father’s, Holgast of Kassen. It was hoped that the forests of Nirmathas (and being away from the stink of Korvosa) would enliven the bookish young elf.
But Holgast was no outdoorsman, and Telperion was left to settle into the old man’s routine. While at first monumentally bored with the pace of life (and quite displeased with the chores), Telperion soon learned that there was more to this aged human than met the eye.
Holgast’s instruction was frustrating. It was haphazard, and interrupted by naps, snacks and smoking. But Telperion learned, over time, that Holgast’s method had a unique structure that perfectly suited Telperion’s nature. Holgast would broach subjects, provide a few introductory tidbits, and then nod off, or become distracted by some mundane task. This left Telperion, his interest piqued, with the need (and the time) to research the subject himself. Even the chores proved rewarding. Many times Telperion would remove some soiled dish or flagon and find beneath it a scrap of interesting writing, or a book, or Holgast’s scrawled question to himself with a note to check a source in the library. Telperion could almost feel the sleeping wizard smile when the young elf crept off to follow these leads.
Soon these items referred to locked drawers or lightly enchanted tomes that would open only when some basic phrase of magic was spoken correctly. Eventually it grew into a game between the two, with ever more obtuse bits of knowledge hidden with greater and greater skill by the master and found with ever more speed by the student.
Not too many months ago, Telperion learned that his parents had died in a plague that swept through Korvosa. Orphaned, he now considers Holgast’s tower his home. He goes occasionally into Kassen on some errand (or as part of a scholastic scavenger hunt), but has made no close friends. Most of his time is spent with the books, the old man, and his dreams of adventure.
These dreams are strongest during the autumn lantern festival. Telperion sits in the high window of the tower, his legs dangling off the sill, and watches as that year’s select few leave town on their ritual quest. He keeps his vigil for hours on end, scanning the horizon for that first gleam of the renewed flame, brought out of an unknown darkness. When he sees it, his heart leaps, and he watches as that light gets closer and closer. He smiles, sighs to himself and says “Someday”.
