Uialeth Uí Bearáin (wee-A-leth WEE BEAR-aine)

After the Fall, many groups of deep elf refugees moved to reclaim and rebuild the upper ruins of their cities. Velltherin was one of many outposts converted to house a community of these elves who managed to clear the surface layers and reestablish some echo of their former homes. This township was lead by a council of families who sought to rule in the most rational, democratic way, and one of those families was the Bearáins.   For several generations, Velltherin was a prosperous and peaceful refuge for a healing people. They dug as deep as they could and organized expeditions to recover artifacts of their past and had even managed to reclaim some of their crystalline creations. Yet the darkness still held malice and a corrupting nature, and a shadow crept into the fringes of the community. It is still not known to the survivors what negative force seeped into Velltherin, but its evil influence took hold of many family leaders of the council. Riots broke in the streets. As the council gathered to stop the mob, the compromised senators turned on their fellows. Crystal blades ripped through throats and guts, children's skulls were dashed upon the stones, and Velltherin burned with arcane fire.   Some pure families survived, and fled into the Silver Mist Hills. The Bearáin family settled in Blackthorn Dale, establishing a quiet but safe trade in illumination and scribe work. Meltheiwin and Feinal made a decent living in transcribing books, illuminating certificates, and crafting unique ink. Their son, Ardreth, left not long after the family settled; small village life was too jarring after the carnage of their city and he vowed to someday retake Velltherin. A year after Ardreth departed, Meltheiwin gave birth to a baby girl, Uialeth.   The majority of Uialeth's childhood was spent in the comfort of her parent's scriptorium. Her earliest memories were always accompanied with the smells of parchment, ink, and leather, and the soft scratchings of quills. She learned illumination and ink making from her mother, and bookbinding and calligraphy from her father. The stories of a city she would never see and a brother she never knew were not told to her. Hers was a life happily spent in the quiet glades and cool moors surrounding Blackthorn Dale, occasionally traveling with her parents to sell ink, scrolls, and books to neighboring towns.   When she was twelve, Uialeth accompanied her parents on a journey to the river-port town of Wildedrift, a journey which required the family to travel through the rugged hills. On the return trip, the unthinkable happened. The night became more than dark, but near impassable blackness. Uialeth's screams were muffled by her mother's cold hand clamping over her mouth. A sudden light burst through the shadows, shrieks of rage and pain echoing from all around the caravan, as Feinal lifted a deep elven luminarch. The ancient artifact pulsed with blue light from within an arcane crystal. Uialeth's father threw the luminarch at her and told her to run. Her stomach churned with fear as she tried to protest, but her legs seemed intent on flight. The sounds of her mother and father running behind her began to fade and then stop, and Uialeth wanted to cry, to stop, to go back, but her legs drove her faster away from the caravan.   Feeling as though she had run for days, tears staining her dusty face, Uialeth stumbled into the market center of Blackthorn Dale, the luminarch still clutched tightly to her chest. Through sobs, she managed to relay her story to the Woodsmen, and a party was formed to retrieve Uialeth's parents. The wagon was shattered, its contents strewn across the road and down the steep hill beside it. Of Meltheiwin and Feinal there was nothing but blood.   The temple in town agreed to take Uialeth in as a temple maiden, allowing her to stay without pay so long as she cleaned and maintained the grounds. As she packed her parent's possessions, she discovered her brother's journals tucked away in a chest. From these she learned not only of his existence, but of Velltherin. They told of her family's life before the city fell, of Ardreth's hatred for the betrayers, and his frustration at their parent's willingness to move on, to forget and start over in this pitiful surface town. She considered trying to find Ardreth, for he was her only living family, but she had never even known she had a brother and the anger and resentment he clearly had made her think he might not want to know her. She was, after all, a product of this "dull backwater" that he so obviously hated. In the end, she decided to stay, to work in the temple for the town that was all she really knew.   For years, most of Uialeth's days were spent maintaining the temple grounds. She would get up early to clean the statues of the gods, set up their altars, light candles and incense, then sweep the courtyard, keep the garden, and take care of the crypts below. In the afternoons, she would practice her script and illumination, or learn to defend herself with Vaga, the priestess of Tarsaralei. Vaga insisted that Uialeth have at least some combat skills if the time ever came that she would need them. Uialeth would also spend the occasional day in the forests, picking through the outlying ruins in search of deep elven artifacts. From her brother's journals, she knew such treasures were sometimes recovered in ruined cities and she was keen to learn more about her heritage.   The ruins and forests were often dangerous, however, and though she had learned some techniques, Uialeth was not so prepared as she thought. She was searching through the remnants of an ancient palace when a hulking mass blocked her path. A minotaur, young but still impressively large, let out a soft, menacing laugh as he advanced through the crumbling arch. "What treasures have you found, little elf?"   Uialeth clutched her pack to her, thinking of her father's luminarch inside it, and backed away. The crunching of hooves sounded behind her and she looked in time to see a second young minotaur lunge for her. She darted away, leaping over a shattered wall, desperate to get away. There was little chance she could defend herself from these bandits, especially with no weapon. Uialeth wove a twisted path through the large redwoods, trying to lose them in the thick underbrush, but their stamping hooves and heavy snorting followed. A thick mist began to rise from the forest floor, giving her some hope of escape. Through the twisted roots of an ancient ponderosa pine tree, Uialeth spotted a crumbling stone wall and she sprinted for cover.   The scene on the other side of the wall made Uialeth halt in her tracks. Swords of all types rose eerily through the mist, their blades each marking some long forgotten grave. The fog condensed in front of her eyes, drawing her to the hilt of a tarnished claymore. The crashing and cursing of the minotaurs grew louder behind Uialeth, but a cold calm washed over her as she grabbed the sword and pulled. The blade came free of the soil smoothly and Uialeth turned to face her pursuers.   Just as their prey had done, the minotaurs stumbled to a stop and gapped at the graveyard, then at their prize where she stood ready to fight. They grinned mirthlessly, and moved to circle her, raising their weapons. The moss of the ground was slick with mist, their hooves slipped, and Uialeth saw her opportunity. Quick as a shadow, the deep elf danced behind one of the bandits, aiming for his wobbly legs. The beast let out a roar of agony as the tendons separated cleanly and he crashed to the ground. He swung wildly towards Uialeth, who was not quite fast enough to avoid it, and his hammer crushed into her hip, knocking her off balance. The second minotaur rushed at his target, intent on slamming her into the wall, but something strange began to happen. Silvery mist thickened around the cemetery, blinding its occupants, but the minotaur couldn't slow his charge and ran full force into the stone of the dilapidated wall. The crack and groan of crumbling stone filled the fog as the wall collapsed on the minotaur, crushing him beneath its weight.   Uialeth saw her chance and she limped as fast as she could in the direction of Blackthorn Dale. The strangled cries of pain and rage of the surviving bandit followed her for some time, but she knew he could not see her. Later, when Vaga and Sandor helped her bind her wounds as she told them what happened, they became convinced she had been aided by Nesmerleth. Graveyards are her domain, and the mist is her conduit to the mortal world, so Uialeth swore her life to the goddess of death from that day on. Though Vaga was a priestess of Tarsaralei, and Sandor a priest of Settraes, they helped Uialeth on her new path of dedication and Sandor taught her martial techniques with the claymore that had been the weapon chosen for Uialeth by her goddess.   As the Night's Sun festival approaches, Uialeth prepares the altars of Eanna and Aldanoc to receive the offerings of the villagers, her father's luminarch shining brightly from her belt.