Teralan's page

About Teralan

"I had always suspected what my ancestry actually was. But I didn't wish to give up the good things I already had going for me. Family, friends, a home, an education. Your efforts to raise me, to make sure I did good and use my growing powers for the right reasons, will not be wasted. I will make you both proud of me, as I strike out into the world to find others like myself."

These were the last words Teralan Barlos said when his parents were laid to rest. He was still just a child in Elven years, but already he had far outlived his parents. That event took place almost 80 years ago. And here the Elf sat, in a bar in the city of Zathrum, reminiscing over a bottle of red wine.

He had been born to a Human couple. A mystery he still has yet to unravel to this day. At first, his parents, Darsus and Aria, thought he had been born deformed. What with his pointed ears, pale skin and unusually bring eyes the shade of violet, they feared for the worst. But, he grew quickly, faster than the other boys in his village of Heral.

When he came of age, and just as his parents were entering their twilight years, there was an incident in the village. Teralan had just been discovering he had a gift for magic. Moving things with his mind, calling forth brilliant lights and colors out of the palm of his hands. But one day, he decided to push his limits, and tried to call forth a fireball. TO help light the hearth and torches around the village.

It backfired horribly.

His whole arm caught fire, severely burning his entire arm up past his shoulder and just reaching his neck and rib cage before he finally dispelled the fire and tossed himself into a near-by river. The cool water did nothing to soothe the magic burns covering his entire right arm. Even now, as he regularly brought the glass of wine to his lips, he could feel the still-burned flesh flex and twist with his movements. It never healed properly, and any movement would bring a reminder of his foolishness.

Ever since then, he became a student of Magic, and had paid for his very first lesson. Next to nothing, compared to what happened to a rather cocky, Human young man when he was being taught Conjuration.

But, a story for another time. Draining his glass and setting his money down on the table, he adjusted the cloak and hood around his shoulders, checked himself for his book and scrolls, and strode out of the tavern, dubbed 'The River's Bend', and pulled his hood up. To keep his pale skin away from the searing sunlight, and in case the locals weren't too kind to Elves in their city.