Name: Aramil "Cor" Vale
Age: 25
Race: (Half) Elf
Gender: Male
Class: Wrathful Hammer Runepriest
Deity: Corellon

Appearance: My, my, describing myself would seem incredibly haughty of me, hm? But rather than let some ignorant peasant try to capture my appearance in words, probably butchering the common language, why not let the one in question do the describing? Many have called me 'good-looking', 'dashing' even, but I can only say I have a simple kind of beauty. Simple brown hair, simple brown eyes. Boyish? No, but neither have I been worn with age. A smile that can make woman and men alike swoon, but these too are not my words. My elven blood has no shame in my face. My ears are neither horn-like nor human, the perfect balance of pointed and curved. And though I am aware that my human blood urges a beard onto my chin, I won't impede it. Rather than hide my flaw, I would rather show it proudly. The same way a scar may be flourished and glorified. It only grows uglier in the dark. (Plus who would want to hide something that looks this good?)

Personality: I have, many times, asked acquaintances to describe myself in one word. Many times have they paused, letting me linger in their contemplative silence, and though I have asked many people, both human and elven, their answer is always the same. Narcissistic. I'm not even sure these people are aware what the word means. How can anyone describe one such as myself as vain and egocentric? If any thing, I favor the entire population, man and elven kind, in my bedside prayers. My eventual ascension back into the immortal realm is not done for myself, but for every living creature (besides the horrid drow and equally repulsive orcs, may they remain in their squalor mud pit forever). Sure I may smile when complimented, even urge others to do so, but this is not uncommon. I can't help it if people are naturally drawn to me. Corellon's power courses through my veins after all. I am a modest man, humble in upbringing. I believe myself to be kind, level-headed, charismatic with a noble heart. Faithful and dedicated, just like everyone else. The only difference between you and I is the artistry I dedicate to my life. Oh, and my godhood of course, but honestly, I think myself to be part of the common man.

History: Let me tell you an interesting story. You may call it legend but never a myth. It is a known fact that deities have the power to materialize in the mortal realm, take on a familial form as an avatar (blue skinned cat-like humanoids? What nonsense do you speak of? Corellon would never take the form of something so bizarre!) to their greater being. Well, it wouldn't be surprising that Corellon would descend into the mortal realm to fight against Gruumsh and his army, a tale I'm sure you're familiar with. Controlling the orc fiends is quite a task, even for a deity. Anyway, in this one battle Corellon was ambushed by a team of orcs bearing the insignia of Gruumsh. Niyakhi the Blighted, infamous orc bowman, dead now I assure you, unleashed a cursed arrow which, despite Corellon's graceful agility and impeccable reaction time, could not dodge. It struck him center in the back, not too inches from his heart. The arrow shattered into black dust that seeped into his skin, stained his blood and severed the unbreakable connection he had with his astral form. Corellon was ripped from our realm and the battle was lost.

Legend has it that Corellon's avatar died in that battle, but few know the truth. A shard of Corellon's spirit was split from his core that day the moment the cursed arrow hit it's mark. Where his avatar fell and died, from his blood was birthed Paelias Tejal of the Skyborn, an eladrin who wielded unearthly magic, whose arrows flew true as if guided by an unseen being, whose blade always found his enemy. Coincidence? I think not. Hardly anything happens in life that can be considered coincidence.

Many scholars believe Paelias is Corellon's fragmented spirit given form. Paelias' devotion to Corellon was almost unreal. He traveled to every place of worship, from grand cathedrals of Corellon to meager roadside shrines til the head priests knew him on sight, slayed anyone who dare defile Corellon's name, took pilgrimages one after the other. He often began long journeys 'til hunger and thirst nearly claimed his life, scouring the undeveloped wilderness, searching endlessly. No one could stop him, save the limitations of his mortal coil. He was constantly venturing forth well into his waning years, almost as if he were searching for Corellon himself, seeking to return the shard that was retained in him.

He never did, of course, or else this story would have ended with a happier tone. It would fall to his descendants to carry on this task. Eons of Corellon's spirit withering in mortal flesh. Generations have passed with Paelias' will turning into fancy stories to keep children brave and cunning, quite a popular hero made quite a popular story, but the truth of the matter is it was seen only as a story. Who would believe that Corellon had manifested himself in our realm? Eladrins became elves and elves deviated into half elves. Corellon's spirit is nothing more than a flickering light, but it does exist. Paelias to Aramil Vale. A humble half-elf with nothing more but symbols and lines to prove his connection to Corellon.

Aramil was but a mere child when the story of Paelias drifted to his ears. An insignificant whelp born from overly religious zealots, holing himself inside the cramped confession booth of the town's church (in order to avoid the evening's studies) while his parents gave thanks from the worn pews. Bored of the mundane lives of layman, growing more restless with each passing day, the only thing Aramil had going for him were his skill with the runes. He scribbled all over the church walls, scratched symbols into the backs of the wooden seats, even sneaked a doodle or two into the pages of the holy manuscripts. He was scolded endlessly by the monks and clerics of the church. Until one day, half drugged with sweets and amidst all of his childish antics, he stumbled into the ancient reliquary and was suddenly overcome with a great wash of light. Gentle yet all encompassing. Reality became muffled as if filtered out. All he could hear was one voice. It spoke to him quietly though clearly, as if he were speaking to himself with hands drawn over his ears, and only said one word: Return.

It may have been 'retrieve' or 'join' or 'get-off-your-lazy-ass', but the point is clear. Return, he asked? Return what? Return to Corellon. Return the spirit that was abandoned thousands of years ago. This very spirit that was now dwelling inside him. Was it a coincidence that though his father, once gifted with magic instantly lost touch with his power once he wed to a human wife? Was it coincidence that he was told by every clergyman to be thankful for his ability because runes were said to be manifestations of divine power? Was it coincidence that Paelias' tale be told to him that exact same day? It wasn't hard to put two and two together. After this, how should I say, epiphany, little Aramil was changed forever. Corellon, mustering what strength his lordship regained, perhaps even fueled by the mystical energy within the reliquary chamber, spoke to Aramil, pleaded to reunite with his greater whole. Aramil was overcome with religious fervor. From that day forth, he would be known as Cor, but a mere fragment of Corellon.

So here he is. And so here I am. Where Paelias was able to conjure Corellon's strength through sheer will, I suffer through my ancestors ignorance and can only create a mere shadow of Corellon's power with my runes. I can bless, I can strengthen, but not much else. Even a fool can see the shard of Corellon's spirit that was severed that day dies with me. And so I shall dedicate my life to completing what Paelias failed to do.

This is privy information you see. Paelias openly declared his connection with Corellon and thus was assailed day in, day out by Gruumsh followers, by Lolth's drows and any other misfits with nothing in mind but disrupting the status quo. His strength was what kept the assassins at bay, but it was not natural causes that took his life at the end. I won't make that same mistake, especially as Corellon's strength in me is feeble at best.

Equipment:
Warhammer
Light Shield
Scale Armor

Ability:
At will- Word of Diminishment, Word of Shielding
Encounter- Rune of Mending, Executioner's Call, Twisted Eye
Daily- Rune of the Undeniable Dawn