My OC: Elodie Skyshard
TTRPG: DnD 5e
Age: 50 years old
Race: Element-touched (Air Genasi) but Half-Elven, no Human heritage.
Height: 5’6”
Gender: She/Her
Class: Paladin, NG, Oath of the Free Sky (home-brew).
Story/Background: Elodie was born and raised in the Aerie of the Snow Eagles, the last safe nest of the Avariel hidden on the Great Glacier in the far north of Faerun. She is Half Elven: her mother is a winged Elf and her father is a Djinn.
How and why Shamal, a Djinn of Calimshan, found himself in the frozen ceiling of the world is uncertain. Elodie has always been charmed by the story that she was told: that her Papa, enchanted by snow and blizzard, was following the storms north. There he met Loriot, Elodie’s Mama, who, as part of her devotions to her Seldarine deity, spent much of her time observing weather patterns. Their reckless, all-consuming love resulted in Elodie, a flightless child born in a city of Winged Elves.
So…the Avariel. They appear briefly in the DnD 2e source books and then sort of fall away. The available information about the Winged Elves is that they, along with other the branches of the Elven family, the Tel’Quessir, came to Faerun from the Feywild tens of thousands of years ago. The Avariel, sharing their new skies with Dragons, immediately became a favored snack. They were nearly destroyed and were forced into hiding on the ground. After much wandering and torment, the remaining Avariel found their way north to Pelvuria, on the Great Glacier. There, discovering a mountain whose entire top portion had been sheared off by a Netherese sorcerer looking for a handy chunk of rock for his floating city, they established their hidden haven on the resulting plateau.
A long period of recovery and rebuilding followed. The Avariel raised their shining towers, constructed of a crystalline material that resembles glass but is as strong as steel. They established a society split into a militaristic component and a more spiritual/artistic faction. Each branch is respected and considered of equal value to their community. Young Elves take time to explore life in each before choosing their preferred path. The community leaders include representatives from both the militaristic and the artistic/creative groups.
The Avariel worship all of the Elven pantheon, the Seldarine, but their most beloved deity is Aerdrie Faenya. Whose domain includes the skies, the weather, and all manner of winged creatures. And who is fiercely protective of the freedom of her flying children.
The militaristic branch of the Winged Elves is fierce too. And proud. They do not exactly look down upon those who cannot fly, but they deeply pity them. They are ruthless in battle. Their belief is essentially that, if you are stupid enough to start anything with them, you are expecting a fight to the death. And it is a dishonor to you not to kill you if they can. So don’t mess with them.
That’s it. Pretty bare bones on the lore front. Which is great because, as part of creating Elodie’s backstory, I went on a very enjoyable deep dive, exploring what Avariel society in our home game would look like. And how growing up within it would impact/shape a character that was born a little different in an otherwise very homogenous community.
So, first off, in our campaign the last Avariel city is protected by a Mythal. Mount Sundabar, the beheaded mountain where the Aerie sits, is both hidden from prying eyes and kept habitable by this ancient and potent spell. Elodie grew up in a literal magical bubble: a gentle land of alpine flowering meadows, bountiful orchards, merrily bubbling streams, balmy nights, and kind winds. All surrounded by the equally stunning, but brutally harsh, landscape of the Great Glacier. With its wild blizzards, ice-caves, toothy ravines, and lots of unfriendly critters (Frost Giants! Yetis! Ice worms! Snow leopards! And, uh-oh, always the threat of foul Dragons!!!)
In thinking about what an insular community like this would look like – a society that had to fight so hard and so grimly to find a safe home and that, given the long lives and longer memories of Elves, would have spent centuries recovering from their trauma – I have settled on several defining characteristics for the Avariel.
They are a society that has, for a very long time, been focused entirely on survival. On the continued existence of their Kind, above all else. All other considerations would have been set aside: the priorities would be endless vigilance, being ever-ready for battle, and being willing to sacrifice all for the good of their People. Any behaviors that created internal strife and threatened the necessary unity of, and loyalty to, the group would be unacceptable. Early battle training and maintenance of a highly skilled warrior caste to protect the Aerie would be the focus.
But the Avariel are still Elves. And, even during their most tragic times, they still devoutly worship the Seldarine. And continue to yearn for Beauty and Learning. To cherish Nature and Art and the magical intermingling of the two. All these may be intangible gifts but, for the Winged Elves, they all symbolize freedom and safety and a true home. And thus are more desperately precious to the Avariel than much that is more concrete.
The Avariel, having developed a rather direct and, perhaps, slightly humorless approach to life (they almost all got eaten, can you blame them?), would recognize that, in their battle to survive, these more abstract parts of themselves were at risk of being subsumed by endless struggle. And that they needed to make a deliberate choice to nourish those aspects of themselves that may, in the midst of crisis, be otherwise dismissed as unnecessary luxury. They would have compartmentalized their society – again, a very direct solution to the problem that would ensure that less immediately useful pastimes would be protected and given space to flourish. And those in the community more naturally inclined to spiritual or artistic pursuits would be respected and content. An endearingly straightforward approach to prevent the ever-feared lack of harmony within the nest.
Over the centuries, the non-martial faction of the Avariel community would have grown from a sort of studiously and deliberately encouraged formality to a more vital part of the Aerie. As the Winged Elves grew in numbers and slowly, slowly began to feel more secure, some of the rigidity inherent in their survival-mindset approach would have started to thaw. The peaceful/spiritual group would have become more genuinely valued, both in general society and within the Aerie’s leadership. Over the past few decades, in the time leading up to the start of Elodie’s story, Avariel society would have evolved into a truly equal partnership between the martial and non-martial factions. And both groups, together, would have been inching towards becoming a more open and flexible and joyous community than ever before.
The Avariel society is a communist one in the sense of being classless, holding all goods and property in common, and distributing what is needed to all. This system has worked for the Winged Elves because they are a small, generationally traumatized bunch. They are largely cut off from different cultures and amply supplied with natural resources. Young Avariel are taught, early and consistently, about the value of self-reliance; both on an individual level and as a society. And instilled deeply into their youthful minds is the critical importance of service and loyalty to their community. They are rather Spartan-like in their disdain for the burden of excess luxury and do not collect much in the way of material possessions. They can appreciate beauty without necessarily coveting it or needing to own it. And, as all growing Elves spend time immersed in both the martial and peaceful factions, all Avariel are raised with a measure of military-style discipline that emphasizes an orderly, harmonious society as a vital tool of survival.
It helps that they have tremendous respect for the wisdom gained with age: their system of governance consists a Council of Elders. On the (infrequent) occasion that one of these beloved Elders passes out of this life, the Aerie gathers to select a replacement. The voices of all are heard but more weight is given to the opinions of older Avariel; decision and authority rest with them.
Similarly, the daily work of a small but thriving city is shared between all. Just not exactly in equal proportion. So, while even the most revered Elder will occasionally glide to the orchards to guide the growth of saplings, or lend a hand with some light street sweeping, this is generally recognized as a ceremonial gesture. To emphasize the equal standing of all in the community and to show respect for the labor of all the Avariel.
In practical terms, while all the Winged Elves are assigned to necessary menial tasks on a rota, more of these duties fall to the younger Avariel. As an Elf ages and becomes increasingly skilled in battle or craft or worship, they are expected to devote more of their time to these specialized tasks. To honing their particular gifts and to passing on their knowledge through teaching fledglings. And they are assigned proportionately fewer hours, say, polishing the Winter Glass of the city towers or cleaning bathing chambers. (This is me trying to find a practical, but not hopelessly idealistic, fix for the built-in classism of Tolkien’s High Elves. I, naturally, would love to take a long holiday in Rivendell, like any other hobbit. But it would be so bothersomely distracting: wondering who is washing those oh-so-luxuriant bed linens, and cooking those magnificent feasts, and scrubbing those artfully tiled floors…If you are near-immortal and get a job on Elrond’s house-keeping staff, does that mean that you are stuck cleaning toilets for eternity?)
In many ways, the Avariel hold less in common with their Elven family than expected. They spent many centuries wandering the Realms, searching for a safe haven. During this time of great hardship, they did not often interact with other Elves. And they did not receive much in the way of help from their Tel’Quessir family. While the Winged Elves were trying to escape the ravages of Draconic attacks, their earth-bound kin were embroiled in what were, to the Avariel way of thinking, decadent, unforgivably wasteful, and bitterly hateful wars amongst themselves. When the call came for the Retreat, with the Sun Elves encouraging all Elvenkind to leave Faerun and settle in Evermeet, the Avariel did not hear it. Or, if they did, they had their own reasons for not heeding the summons.
Instead of close bonds with other Elves, the Avariel culture has been influenced by the people that they encountered in their long travels. Their songs, poetry, weaponry, even clothing styles, have been enriched by the many nations that they passed through before settling on the Great Glacier. And, once they returned to the skies, the Avariel formed ties of great friendship and loyalty with other flying folk. They share worship of Aerdrie Faenya, a love of nature, common enemies, and a cherished history of mutual support in the skies with the Snow Eagles and the Aarakocra. They are also allied with the Inugaakalikurit, or Arctic Dwarves. The Avariel have come to admire their only close neighbors for their ability to thrive in the brutal environment of the Glacier. They understand and sympathize with the great value that the Dwarves place on family and tribe. And have developed grudging respect for their hunting and foraging abilities; even bound to the earth, the Arctic Dwarves have impressed the Avariel. The Winged Elves have gained useful skills from the Inugaakalikurit, and, in turn, have joined them in their battles against the Frost Giants. Their shared and not-so-friendly neighbors.
With all of the Elven pantheon to choose from, how does a society where so much emphasis is placed on shared labor and sacrifice for the common good, where discipline and unity are so highly prized, come to worship a tumultuous deity such as Aerdrie Faenya? A rather unapproachable goddess known mostly for her fierce love of open skies and of the wild things that soar through her domain. After being forced to cower, flightless and hiding, for age upon weary age, the Avariel consider the freedom of the skies to be the most precious of all gifts. They believe that the Lady of Air and Wind has chosen them to receive this gift. And they adore her for it.
They also take Aerdrie Faenya’s preference for untrammeled liberty very seriously. Their Lady values freedom almost above all. And the Avariel, within their regimented, ever-watchful, and insular society, have formalized precisely what that means. With their own unique interpretation of what constitutes individual and group freedoms. Unsurprisingly, their views on the subject are very much focused by that same lens of fear of anything that may lead to strife within their small community.
An example: at a certain point in her story Elodie experiences a flash of envious hurt because a person she cares about is involving herself rather closely with somebody else. She immediately stifles that emotion, reminding herself that the person who she cares for is entitled to make her own independent decisions. And that by feeling envy she, Elodie, is impinging on this person’s rights. On her freedom to make her own choices. Which is not permitted. Theft of freedom from another is not permitted. Yeah, the Avariel, as a group, may have some issues with emotional repression…
Bodily autonomy is taken very seriously too. There is nothing prudish or judgmental in the Avariel’s approach to sex. Desire and its fulfillment are gifts of the Winged Mother and, as such, are to be celebrated. All manner of carnal play between adult Avariel is acceptable, whether that involves finding and bonding indefinitely to a single mate, or setting up a nest with a group of like-minded Elves. But consent is non-negotiable. And very much formalized. Forget shy glances, suggestive remarks, and flirting. If an Avariel wishes to mate, they will address the person or persons that they are interested in with a direct question: a clear and ritualized application for consent. Not very romantic but it does avoid any miscommunication (and, hopefully, any of the ever-dreaded conflict). It also makes for some enjoyably awkward encounters when my precious, clueless Elodie heads out into the wider world…
So, this is the community that Elodie is born into: vigilant, proud, defiant, suspicious, insular, and disciplined. Very scarred. But also: passionate, intense, hard-working, devout, increasingly more secure, growing joyful and open to new ideas. Their world seems full of hope and promise.
And then, when Elodie is just six years old, the Mythal that protects the Aerie starts to…fray. No one understands what is happening or why. But the Avariel’s ages-old protection is weakening. Their world is getting colder.
The union between one of their own, Loriot, and a Djinn, is met, for the most part, with surprised tolerance by the Avariel. The birth of a fledgling, one without wings, is a shock. Still, almost none of the Elves are overtly cruel. They are mostly bemused. And then filled with compassion. Seeing a Wingless amongst them, one whose life and achievements will always be limited by her dreary inability to soar, they endeavor to be kind to little Elodie. And helpful to her Mama, who must deal with this burden. They do this, even as the cold of the Glacier creeps closer. And as their society draws in on itself in response. Regressing to more of a grimly battle-ready, less exuberantly joyful, state.
These are the two forces that shape Elodie’s mind. She is content and safe in her nest, beloved and shamelessly spoiled by her parents. But she is keenly aware that she is different and thus never able to join fully in Avariel life. And she feels the icy shadow of fear over her home. She grows up knowing that the Aerie is under threat and that nobody – not her laughingly indulgent Papa, not her grimly protective Mama, not any of the aloof and beautiful Avariel in her community – expects her to be the slightest bit useful in doing anything about it.
But Elodie is determined that she can, and must, be of service to her People. She genuinely loves her home and this motivates her almost as much as does her desperate need to prove herself a true Avariel.
Her Papa is always encouraging. He never expresses anything but confidence in his stormy-haired, stubbornly hopeful child. Still, he is far too often absent. Elodie idolizes her father but, as Shamal spends so much time far from the Glacier on unknown Djinn business of his own, their relationship does not mature as she does. Elodie retains a rather child-like, unquestioning adoration of Shamal. And a hunger for more of his presence in her life. Even as a full-fledged Warden, out in the world, Elodie’s need for a wise and approving father-figure touches her judgement and decisions in ways that she is not quite aware of.
Elodie’s relationship with her Mama is…complicated. They love each other deeply but there are certain griefs, regrets, and fears that Loriot does not speak to her daughter about. Elodie feels this silence like a wall between them. Her mother refuses to acknowledge that Elodie is different from any other fledgling in the Aerie. She speaks and behaves as if her determination – her will – that all is well, will truly make it so. Yet her anxiety emerges in her endless concerns for Elodie’s safety. Even though Loriot’s own mother was a respected warrior, leading the Sky Wardens, the elite fighting force of the Avariel, until her untimely but most heroic death in battle, Loriot herself chose the spiritual path.
Elodie’s Mama is a priest of Aerdrie Faenya, running the library at the great temple to the Winged Mother in the Aerie. She raised her daughter amongst the books and scrolls and instruments of weather-worship. Because her dearest hope is that Elodie will one day join her in the safety of the priestly order. When Elodie takes up her Grandmatron’s swords and trains to become a Warden, it creates…tension in the family nest.
But Elodie knows that she has much to accomplish. She must serve Aerdrie Faenya faithfully, following her Lady’s path as a divine knight. She must become the most skilled fighter among the Wardens, to prove to all that she is capable of defending the Aerie at need. She must avenge her Grandmatron’s death at the talons and icy breath of that vile Dragon, First Winter. But, most important of all, she must find a way to save the Aerie from the encroaching cold…
Elodie’s time in her Mama’s library is not wasted. While briskly scouring the shelves for anything that may help her with her task, she discovers mention of the Tears of the Seldarine. An ancient legend describing how, in a time long past, the Elven pantheon wept to see the suffering of the Avariel. Each of the twelve Seldarine shed a tear that was transformed into a jewel. Twelve jewels, imbued with divine power and grace. Together, they were intended as a gift to the Avariel. A mighty boon that would grant the Winged Elves strength to save themselves, to find peace and safety. But the jewels were scattered throughout Faerun. Never used for their intended purpose, the Tears were stolen, misused, lost…
Now the Avariel are once again under threat. Surely, with the Tears of the Seldarine, the Aerie’s Mythal can be restored and the Avariel home made safe once more! Finding the Tears, seeking them out amongst the vast lands of the Realms and the yet more vast expanse of years that have passed since the gems fell out of knowledge and into legend: that is a worthy quest! Elodie is certain that she has found her purpose, her way of serving the Aerie and saving her People! (Elodie tends to think in exclamation marks when it comes to anything of importance).
The Avariel at large are less convinced. They fail to see how a faded tale, more fledgling evening-fable than history, has any relevance to the current crisis. Still, after sufficient petitioning and cajoling by the irrepressible Air Genasi, the Avariel Elders permit Elodie and eleven other Wardens (the younger and more impressionable ones) to venture forth across Faerun in search of the Tears of the Seldarine.
It is almost certain that Loriot exerts herself and makes a plea to the Elders to keep her wayward, fanciful fledgling as safe as possible, even when embarking on such a perilous journey. Perhaps this is why Elodie is assigned to the Sword Coast for her mission. An uncouth location certainly, but less hazardous than, say, the terrible land of Red Thay where one of the Tears is thought to have been taken.
No, Elodie is tasked with following up on the barest echoes of a whispered rumor that two of the Tears may have once been held in the lost Illefarn capital of Aelinthaldaar. This ancient Elven enclave was destroyed during the Retreat and the fate of the holy gems, if they were ever there at all, is unknown. A new city stands on this site now – a mostly Human settlement with the uninspired name of Waterdeep. How much trouble can the overeager young Warden encounter there?
And this is where our campaign, and Elodie’s story, begins.
So that is my first-ever OC. A Paladin, a Raptor of Aerdrie Faenya, and just a sweet cinnamon roll who can kill you real dead :). She is earnest and believes in the good in everyone, and is very dutiful, and sees the world in black and white. And she has ever so much to prove. So you know it all goes really, really well when she leaves her hidden haven, dedicated to the goal of saving her home and her People. I love her so much! I could go on. Oh wait, I have..for many many pages ;). Elodie’s chronicles of her own adventures being an extremely detailed and comprehensive tale; they constitute the definitive record of our game. Not to worry, she is an admirably self-aware and reliable narrator. Ha!
I don’t have any art of her. Yet. But hopefully soon…
This is definitely not me jumping up from my chair squeaking and hopping around the room like an excited flea :). Ahem.
But, remembering what someone recently said about how much they like picking soundtracks for their characters, I thought that I would include some music that helps give you a feel for my OC. That is definitely one of the great delights for our home game too: finding songs that elevate certain characters or enrich specific moments in the story. My Spotify playlist for the campaign grows unwieldy and I have adopted the annoying habit of interrupting music-listening with the excited exclamation of “ooh, this will fit so-and-so in the game so perfectly!”. But it’s super fun, so I’m not stopping.
Here is Elodie’s main theme, at least, for her as she is as a fledgling on the Glacier and then beginning to explore the wider world around her.
Carol of the Bells, Lindsey Stirling.
This is a song that I like for Elodie and her Papa, both what is beautiful and what is troubling in their relationship (English translation is below):
Ikar, Michał Wiśniewski, Etiennette Wiśniewska.
Ikar
Icarus
There is a place somewhere on this Earth
Where beauty has no shadow
There is thought without falsehood
There you will find yourself
I know that there is a flame in your mind
You want to know the answers to everything
But I think that you know this for yourself
Age follows its own path
I have a few issues with this world
Which of my cards did cheating Fate deal me?
To whom do I address my application for survival?
Who wants to deceive me?
Do not let anyone tell you anything
I am here to guard you from harm
Listen well to the voice of your heart, My Love
You always have me beside you
I know, I know, you could even now
Raise up an amber palace here nearby
I know that you would like to give me everything
But I do not know if I want this
No! No! That is not what I wanted
But I have not forgotten how bad things can feel
I know how closeness dies
If no one holds her tightly
Maybe we should go to the ends of the world together?
Like Icarus, learn to fly together?
But do not deceive our wings with wax
Do not land in the depths
Maybe it is worth stopping for a moment
Like a tree that bends before the gales
Root into the earth and never let yourself be broken
Come what will
There is a place somewhere in this world
Where beauty has no stain
There is a world that does not divide
Somewhere where everything has its time
Somewhere there is simple faith in love
There is that which we dreamt of
There is a force of goodwill
Somewhere, nothing hurts us.
This is a song for Elodie and the rather fraught relationship between her and her Mama, and the Avariel in general. CW for imagery of suicide. (Again, English translation below):
To Nie Ptak, Małgorzata Kozłowska
To nie Ptak
She is not a bird
She bustles about in her colorful dress
Now and then she turns her head
Sending a smile
You could swear that
Yesterday you saw her wings
When she hid them under her dress
But she…
She is not a bird. Do you not see?
She is not a bird
Not a bird
She is not a bird. Do you not see?
“I love you” says each of her smallest motions
But you are looking for feathers amount the colorful frills
Because you are sure
That yesterday you saw the shadow of wings
That is why you built a cage
But she…
She is not a bird. Do you not see?
She is not a bird
Not a bird
She is not a bird. Do you not see?
That day when darkness steals your heart
She will be in the window laughing but through tears
She will release the blackness of her hair
And transformed into a raven she will leap
So that in a moment she can return through the same window
But she…
She will be a bird from paradise because that is what you wanted
A bird from paradise
A bird from paradise
A bird from paradise because that is what you wanted.
These last two songs come later in the story. For context: our party ventured into a haunted mansion to fight the spirit of a Hag. This vile creature, posing as a kindly old woman, ran an orphanage in North Ward that she essentially used as her own personal larder. While her physical form was tried and executed for her terrible crimes in Waterdeep decades ago, the Hag’s spirit created a dark domain in Shadowfell where she continues to torment the ghostly children that are trapped there along with her rapacious self. While we successfully ended that nightmare, none of our party emerged from Shadowfell unchanged…
We got separated (because of course we did) and Elodie was attacked by something that looked like a fragment of darkness rising out of the shadows around her. She fought it off but was left feeling very weak. And another one of our party saw a shadowy figure, very much resembling Elodie, flitting along behind us as we hurried to exit the destroyed Hag’s crumbling domain. It got lost in the cinematic destruction that surrounded our escape from Shadowfell. So that’s probably alright…
Nope. Once back in the Deep, her strength restored by a good night’s sleep, Elodie finds that she no longer has a shadow. It is simply gone. Again, this is probably not a major worry – she just looks more radiant than usual 🙂 But she also starts having troubling dreams about being lost in a hellscape of burning heat and mercilessly searing light. Desolate and confused while still trying desperately to follow her Lady’s path. And, finally, of finding a soothing darkness from which she can emerge to hunt. To track evil-doers who need to be brought to her Lady’s justice. This series of disturbing visions culminates in a nightmare of violence and gore: of stalking a small figure, ambushing him in a dark alley as he emerges from a tavern, and mercilessly striking him down. To this music:
Who Did That to You, John Legend.
After reading the next day’s newspaper account of the brutal murder of a Hin as he walked home after an evening of drinking, Elodie panics. Convinced that she is somehow losing herself to rage while she sleeps, and turning into a marauding vigilante. It takes a little longer for her to start to understand what is actually happening (no judgement – we had a lot going on in our campaign while this was playing out!). And, before she begins to figure things out, she manages to alienate Shadow Elodie. Who turns away from her and towards…someone else. Someone who promises her loyalty and friendship and guidance and all the violent justice that her shadowy little heart desires (this mysterious and tempting Someone is a whole other plot-line in the campaign). Elodie is now trying to rebuild the mysterious connection between herself and her shadow. She believes that it is her responsibility to prevent further harm from being caused by whatever it is that she inadvertently brought back from Shadowfell. Whatever it is that has melded itself in its confusion and need with the part of Elodie that it stole. Plus, she wants to fix Shadow Elodie. Naturally. This next song really captures that story line:
Czarna Polana, Kayah & Atanas Valkov.
Czarna Polana:
The Black Clearing
I am near
You no longer need to be afraid
In me you will find everything
Because that is what I am able to give
When you are close
The world does not terrify me
And when you give me your hand
I will become whole
I do not exist without you
Without me you do not exist
Without me there is no you
No
Without you there is no me
Without me there is no you
Without you there is no me
No
There is no me without you
Without me there is no you…
Always close
We no longer have to be afraid
You and I are One
As long as life lasts
Co-existing
I do not exist without you
Without me you do not exist
Without me there is no you
No
Without you there is no me
Without me there is no you
Without you there is no me
No
There is no me without you
Without me there is no you…
I am near
You no longer have to be afraid
In me you will find everything
Because that is what I am able to give
When you are close
The world does not terrify me
And when you give me your hand
I will become whole.
Tears of the Seldarine 
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