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[i]“And listen they did. For the power that is greater than desire is rage. Even rage misplaced.” - 2920, Frostfall, v10[/i]
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[B]Name:[/B] Elara Metrick, denounced by the Arcane University, and sometimes called the [i]Witch of Chorrol[/i]
[B]Race:[/B] Breton
[B]Sex:[/B] Female
[B]Age:[/B] 25
[B]Origins:[/B] Chorrol, Cyrodiil

[B]Appearance:[/B] Possessing a middling height, Elara stands no more than 5’5’’, and scarcely more than that even with a tall pair of boots. She has a lithe, slender build, that reminds any observer of the graceful figures of the Mer, acknowledged ancestors to the Bretons. Exceedingly proud, she moves with the refined air of those born and raised in great privilege. She stands confidently, even when she should not, and maintains the strict posture that the matrons of her youth instilled in her. Retaining some of the flair of the nobility, Elara keeps her dark brown hair neatly tied into an elaborate bun, smoothly wrapped at the base of her neck, and secured with a pair of delicate silver pins. Her eyes are a gentle, pale brown and shine with deep thought. Lingering, they move slowly, carefully, analyzing, and registering every bit of information that they encounter. Despite the turmoil of her recent months, Elara smiles easily, if half-heartedly. Her emotions often appear distracted, forcefully polite, as if she only accepts any intrusion upon her person out of kindness. 

Fortunate in her exile, Elara remains a relative stranger to most physical hardships. Her fair skin is unmarked by any noteworthy scars and the worst injury she has suffered since her flight from the Imperial City is a twisted ankle. Outlawry has forced Elara out of her laboratory and her pale skin has darkened slightly under the open skies. Her soft hands are stained with ink, the product of hasty and frequent writing. Sleeping on the hard ground and under constant danger, does not agree with Elara, and she frequently appears tired. Dark circles grow under her eyes and her composure suffers. Cloaked in confidence, there is nonetheless something delicate to the young mage.

Her voice is silver, laced with the refined manners of her upbringing. Her voice rarely rises and maintains a sharp edge of politeness and civility. Once a lecturer at the Arcane University, Elara is a capable public speaker. She has a tendency to lecture, and her oration is marred by a fondness for long, increasingly complex multilayered comparisons and references to obscure academic publications. When Elara speaks, her hands move constantly and trace intricate figures in the air. Talk of magic fills her voice with unexpected intensity and a feverish energy that can be alarming to those unprepared.
 
Although she is a scholar at heart, Elara has long since abandoned the predictable, scholarly dress of a mage. In her new life, she dresses like a traveling merchant. Instead of an elegant robe, she wears a thick, tough woolen coat acquired in the aftermath of a skirmish with mercenaries employed by the Count of Skingard. Her tunic, liberated from a greedy merchant, is dyed a shade of blue and is of exceedingly fine quality. Her trousers, likewise gifts generously furnished by the aforementioned merchant, are dyed a matching color and trimmed with strands of pale blue thread. Unused to the elements, Elara often hides beneath a fur lined hood. Untrained in the use of armor, Elara lacks the strength or interest in wearing anything heavier than cloth.

[B]History:[/B] Elara Metrick is a Breton mage, formerly a member of the Arcane University she is wanted by the Synod and Imperial Legion for her rumored association with Daedra. She is known as the author of several controversial arcane treatises on the study of Conjuration and Mysticism. Recently, disturbing rumors have arrived at the the headquarters of the Imperial Legion that Metrick may have joined a group of rebels marauding near Skingard.

[i][center]2920, Sun's Dawn[/center][/i]

Born on the 25th of Rain's Hand 3E 24 in the town of Chorrol, Cryodiil, Metrick was the daughter of local judge and imperial notary, Rodard Metrick and his wife, Marguerite Phiencel. The progeny of two ancient Breton houses, loyal to the Empire since the dawn of the Second Era, Elara was raised fully in accordance with old traditions preserved from the rule of King Emeric of Wayrest. By the time Elara was born, the fortunes of her family had been secured by the inheritance of her parents. In the company of her beloved siblings, Elara was dotted on by kindly servants, and lived a peaceful life.

Her father, Rodard, was a dour faced knight, gifted with a charm that disarmed the seriousness of person. A soldier in the Imperial Legion in his youth, he walked with a marked limp from a wound that he had received in a skirmish with bandits near Leyawiin. Possessing unimpeachable moral principles, busy as he was with his service to the Empire, Rodard instilled in his children a deep respect for the law. Gentle and kind even in his sternness, he passed his love of books onto all of his children. As custom wisely dictated, her mother, Marguerite, saw that Elara was educated by a series of tutors. Together with the children of neighboring nobles, she learned to conduct herself as a member of the peerage. The Lady Augusta Vesnia surveyed her upbringing and Elara fondly remembers her weekly lessons with the former courtier concerning the important qualities of honor, virtue, and [i]good[/i] taste. 

Reflecting the arcane touched blood of her distant elven ancestors, Elara displayed a notable talent for magic at an early age. Sparks appeared with the wave of her small hands. Strange shimmers surrounded her and filled the air with the unmistakable touch of magic. When Elara was ten, still but a child, she summoned her first familiar, a spectral bear. Delighting in her unexpected gift, her parents hired a retired mage to tutor Elara. Teekeeus, had been the head of the Chorrol Guild Hall before the dissolution of the Mages Guild. A proud wizard, even in his retirement, he was said to have softened somewhat in his old age, and the Argonian was a patient teacher. 

Secure in the safety of her familial estates, Elara noticed little of the Oblivion Crises as it unfolded around her. The Metrick manor, defended by a hastily assembled contingent of mercenaries, emerged untouched by the devastation of the extraplanar invasion. Unwilling to alarm them, her parents shielded their children from the suffering that afflicted Tamriel following the defeat of the Daedra. However, despite the best efforts of her parents, the Oblivion Crises could not be hidden. From the citizens of Chorrol, Elara heard stories of the Daedra, the cruel monsters that had invaded Tamriel. She saw evidence of the invasion all around her, the scorched remnants of Oblivion Gates. In the absence of discussion, she became fascinated with Oblivion, and greedily sought out all that she could learn.

Few, least of all her parents, spoke freely of the Oblivion Crises. Too much had been lost. Too many had been killed. Magic had become a dreaded device of the damned denziens of Oblivion. Servants dared only to whisper. Farmers were more concerned with the coming harvest and avoiding famine than discussing Daedra with a child. Nobles preferred to speak in shallow metaphors, unwilling to disturb the fresh tranquility with grim tales. The citizens of Chorrol wished only to move on and to forget. Alone in her wonderment, Elara's curiosity grew. Questions began to grow in her young mind. She found answers in her father's library, discovering a warped book that had fallen behind the shelves. Within the pages of the ancient book, [i]On Oblivion[/i], she found detailed descriptions of Oblivion and the Daedra who inhabited it. The careful words of Morian Zenas guided her and she began to consider the connections that existed between Mundus and Oblivion.

Her path became clear. She would not hide. She would not be separated from knowledge. She would not be afraid of magic. She would learn. She would master. And she would show the people of Chorrol that there was more to the world than mere survival. There was magic, so much magic.

[i][center]The College of Whispers[/center][/i]

In her thirteenth year, Elara entered the cynosure of Chorrol and formally joined the College of Whispers. Her parents were supportive. Magic was a fine profession and the College of Whispers was a reputable institution. Her passionate, desperate pleas had overcome any hint of worry on the part of her august parents. Bearing a heavy purse of coin, a gift from her proud parents to the College of Whispers, she was a welcome arrival at the cynosure. Any doubts about her belonging and any concerns about her young age that the older mages may have held, faded as her talents blossomed. Initiated into the arcane arts, she spent her days practicing magic, and her nights studying the writings of the the great mages. 

Recognizing her potential and keenly aware of the dangers of leaving a young mind to contemplate the mysteries of magic alone, one of the Masters at the cynosure, Undil Elsinorin, accepted Elara as a pupil. The seasons passed comfortably and the College of Whispers became a family to Elara. Immersed in life at the cynosure, she listened bright-eyed to the lively debates of the other mages. The nature of magic revealed itself slowly to her. The words of her fellow mages, candles of wisdom, shone brightly on the path to mastery. Knowledge brought her great joy and kindled by her small achievements, the fire of her pride began to grow. Magic came easy to her, as it always had. Elara learned to conjure, formerly, in the way of the old masters, summoning creatures from beyond Mundus. At the urging of Undil, she also turned her hands to more practical magic, gaining proficiency in the school of destruction. Keen to develop her arcane abilities beyond mere practical applications, Undil challenged his young charge with interpreting the heavy theoretical musings recorded in the ancient books found in the cynosure library. Encouraged by her progress, Elara began to examine the applications of Mysticism, and broader questions concerning the nature of magic. She found herself in magic and discovered her own voice.

Growing into adulthood steeped in the arcane arts, Elara came to share the belief held by her teachers that all schools of magic, including the often mistakenly maligned arts of necromancy and conjuration, were worthy of study. These early philosophical differences with the Synod grew into a deep sea of difference. The real enemy of the people of Tamriel was not magic, but ignorance. It was true that dangerous knowledge and magic had to be kept away from the public. It had to be safeguarded by those [i]properly[/i] devoted to practice of magic. However, the study of the arcane arts could not be constrained by fear or informed by ignorance. 

The mages of the Synod were wrong. The mages of the Synod were wrong and she would prove it. She knew. She knew that the knowledge she needed could be found in the Mystic Archives of the Arcane University.

[i][center]Before the Ages of Man[/center][/i]

Having learned all that she could from her teachers and books in the Chorrol cynosure, Elara traveled to the Imperial City to further her studies. Armed with a glowing recommendation from the Arch-Mage of the cynosure in Chorrol, she was initiated as an advanced student at the Arcane University. The Arcane University, the center of magical learning in the realm, was then, as it regrettably is now, the site of a bitter struggle between various arcane factions. Memories of the Oblivion Crises had left deep wounds. Magic had become a fearful thing to the people of Tamriel. Guided by this fear, the Synod, successor to the Mages Guild, had banned the study of Conjuration. The College of Whispers, bitter rivals to the Synod, sought adherence to no such restrictions. Vying for the favor of the Elder Councils, mages aligned with College of Whispers or Synod, were locked in a fierce struggle for supremacy at the Arcane University.

Driven by boundless intellectual idealism Elara waded happily, almost madly, into the increasingly hostile battle for the soul, the very heart of magic. Waves were no danger, no matter how high they might reach, so long as she could remain afloat, safeguarded by her own knowledge. Surrounding herself with likeminded students, Elara established herself as a member of one of the more radical factions of mages struggling to free the study of magic from the rules forced upon it by the Synod.

Surrounded by the best and brightest mages of her age, Elara found new satisfaction in her studies. In the comfort of the tall spires of academia, she progressed rapidly. A devoted student, Elara spent countless hours pouring over ancient tomes in the Mystic Archives. Under the careful tutelage of the professors at the Arcane University she advanced her knowledge of magic. She became proficient in the art of Alteration, having grown tired of the need to bring a candle with her to the library. Slinging spells at the other students in friendly bouts, Elara cultivated the ability to send lightening hurtling at her foes. Yet, for all her interest in these schools of magic, Elara remained most dedicated to furthering her knowledge of Conjuration and Mysticism. Freed from the stifling preoccupation towards the practical applications of magic that dominated most magical institutions, Elara committed herself to mastering the theoretical. She learned because she wanted to, not because she needed to. 

Her curiosity multiplied with each arcane publication that she enthusiastically devoured, some mages needed food, but Elara, she need only knowledge. Alarmed at the speed which Elara burned through her magicka, a senior professor at the Arcane University, Orbul gra-Burbog, tutored her privately in the alchemical arts. Intrigued by the study of the stars, Elara embarked upon a modest career as an astronomer. In the Orrey of the Arcane University, only recently restored to a functional state, she contemplated the geometry of the heavens. Studying the constellations scattered across the skies of Nirn, Elara attempted to divine the organization of the planes of existence. Between the darkly lit stacks of the Mystic Archives, Elara found comfort in the passionate company of her friends. 

Once she had settled into a familiar routine, Elara began to explore the Imperial City. She made regular visits to First Edition to purchase rare books. A small fortune in coin from her parents was spent in the Mystic Emporium. She purchased her first enchanted staff at Rindir's Staffs, certain that every proper wizard needed a staff capable of shooting lightning on command. Spurred by growing confidence in herself, she became braver still.

Having traveled with her parents in her youth, Elara was no stranger to the Imperial City. All the same, she saw the bustling metropolis with greedy eyes as an adult. The amusements were many, the distractions endless, and the young wizard found that were was much for her to learn. For once in her short life, she yearned to explore and so, casting off the last vestiges of her provincial background, Elara adopted the mannerisms and cosmopolitan fashion favored by the nobles of Nibenay. Friendships, like magic, came easily to her, and Elara soon found herself spending her evenings in Imperial City with a most amusing group of nobles. She made regular visits to First Edition to purchase rare books. A small fortune in coin from her parents was spent in the Mystic Emporium. She purchased her first enchanted staff at Rindir's Staffs, certain that every proper wizard needed a staff capable of shooting lightning on command. Spurred by growing confidence in herself, Elara became braver still...she contemplated a life of leisure. Drunk on her own social success, she began to consider that there might be more to life than magic and books. Such was her delirium that she briefly flirted with the idea of becoming a traveling minstrel. An ambitious endeavor thwarted only by her realization that she could not play the lute very well.

Unhurriedly striding the path of debauchery, Elara encountered a fellow traveler, Shara Omothan, a highborn Dunmer merchant of impeccable reputation. Furtive interest developed into a shared attraction following a spirited discussion of the Lusty Argonian Maid. Occasional meetings became frequent and lasted into the early mornings. A forceful whisper of attraction soon spun into a whirlwind of romance over several bottles of Sparkling Honeydew. Inexperienced in matters of the heart, Elara abandoned the cramped quarters of the Arcane University. Together with Shara, she lounged in the sunlight of the Elven Gardens, sipping sweet wine. In the highlight of their adventures, the pair squandered a small fortune at the Tiber Septim Hotel. Another fortune was spent at the Red Diamond Jewelry and the young women emerged decorated with precious jewels, that were just as quickly donated to the first beggars that they could find. The remainder of their coin was spent lavishly at procuring costumes and the two sauntered across the Talos Plaza District bedecked in ridiculous outfits that marked them as two ancient Dwermer wizard with prodigious beards. The two-week-long exploration of debauchery, culminated in several days of drinking at the legendary Foaming Flask, and ended only with a merciful short visit to the Imperial Prison. In short order, the two young woman had manage to scandalize both the Arcane University and the Omothan family with their brazen behavior. 

However, in time, the roaring flames of passion faded, reduced to pleasantly warm embers, and Elara dedicated herself once again wholly to the study of the arcane arts. Returning to the Arcane University, she accepted a minor position in the Mystic Archives, organizing and cataloguing rare books. Largely left to her own devices, she spent much of her time pouring over obscure books concerned with the declining school of Mysticism. She became a student to Master-Wizard Devas Fererus, a Daedric cult expert noted for his skill as a conjurer. Supervised by Fererus, she eventually presented a novel thesis proposing that and offered a complex structural explanation for the potential spells that could be derived from trace residue left behind by the Oblivion Gates. 

Pleased with her progress her teachers concluded that she had indeed progressed beyond the level of a simple student.

[i][center]Souls, Black and White[/center][/i]

Granted the title of Wizard by the Grand Council, Elara secured a sizable funding package and received a prestigious position as an arcane researcher at the Arcane University. Freed from the burdens of making an actual living, Elara pursued the arcane arts with renewed vigor. Before winter returned, she published a series of celebrated treatises concerning the often ignored school of Mysticism. Well-received, the manuscripts were nonetheless considered highly esoteric even among the notoriously esoteric academics of the Arcane University and few seemed capable of understanding the implications of her research. Far from dissuading the young wizard, confusion regarding her work only convinced her of its great importance. Building on her growing reputation Elara next began working on a book. The product of years of frantic research, her book, [i]The Gates of Oblivion[/i], detailed her lengthy research on the nature of the Oblivion Gates that had opened up across Tamriel during the Oblivion Crises. Praised by mages belonging to the College of Whispers, the book was heralded by critiques as a new leap forward in arcane research. 

Not all were so pleased with her work and Elara incurred the full wrath of the Synod and the offense of those unwilling to deeply examine the Oblivion Crises so soon after the great anguish had enveloped the lands. Elara escaped censure with a precious number of votes from her colleagues in the Arcane University. However, buckling under pressure from the Synod, the Arch-Mage of the Arcane University, Sabinus Varrid, ordered all copies of her book destroyed, save one, the original manuscript, which was locked deep within the Mystic Archives. Singularly unwilling to compromise on what she thought was right, Elara adopted an equally combative tone in return. In her public speaking Elara was daring, in her lectures she became outspoken, and compared to the other members of the Arcane University she cut at the Synod with a venomous tongue. Her fame grew as she engaged in a storied series of debate with the great mage and arcane scholar, Varian Aretino, a member of the Grand Council of the Synod concerning the dangers of Conjuration. Unyielding in the face of attacks from more senior mage, Elara remained unrepentant regarding her work and accused the Synod of obstructing the natural, even necessary advancement of the arcane arts. In Varian Aretino, she found a most hated opponent.

For all the controversy that surrounded her, Elara was generally indifferent to the research squabbles and the nervous suspicions which preyed upon the professors of the Arcane University, save when it affected her research. She remained cool, aloof, and impervious to the infighting, only Varian Aretino's intemperate outbursts could, and often did, provoke her. Aretino, the haughty arcane ideologue presuming to tell her, the consummate conjurer, how to study her arcane arts. In light of her achievements, Elara became an object of jealousy. A woman to whom things came, or seemed to come easy, could not be taken seriously by those who expended enormous effort and conviction on the minutest details. Mages rooted in tradition struggled to embrace or even accept her heterodox approach to the arcane. Her pride was insufferable, her confidence nauseating, and not just to members of the Synod, but even to the faculty of the Arcane University.

Blind to the forces that had begun to coalesce around her, Elara's titanic ambition drove her headlong into relentless frustration. Faced with obstacles, she retreated from the other mages and turned the totality of energies to her work in her private laboratory. She toiled ceaselessly, sleeping, she herself said, only two hours a night, wasting only an hour on meals, and other domestic necessities. Spurning her critics and all calls for academic restraint, Elara presented a novel theory concerning the geometry of the Planes of Oblivion. Courting disaster yet again with her brazenly ambitious work, only the intervention of her old friend and generous patron of the Arcane University, Shara Omothan, saved her from ruin.

[i][center]The Black Arts On Trial[/center][/i]

Unrepentant, but grateful, Elara retreated to Mystic Archives. Vanishing into the extensive library, Elara buried herself in her research once again. Nursing a bitter anger, she proclaimed that she would not be silenced, and adamant that progress could not be be made without great daring, she sought to abandon the limitations that she felt the other mages had forced upon her. In 4E 15, Elara entered a thesis on the theory of teleportation in a competition announced by the Arcane University. It was returned with comment on its negligible worth. Despairing, Elara became a virtual recluse. Thwarted ambition seethed poisonously in her increasingly deranged mind, and sensibilities. However, her prodigious, and by now temporarily warped, energies found a new conduit which would drive her irrevocably forwards. 

Inspired by the seminal work of Morian Zenas, a Professor of Transliminal Studies at the Arcane University, Elara sought to communicate with the Daedra and to conduct interviews with the powerful creatures in order to discover the true nature of Magicka. This proposed line of research was received with remarkable hostility. Gentle suggestions from the Arch-Mage to shift her research to more palatable areas of study were impolitely refused. Aggressive letters from the Synod laced with barely concealed threats were simply ignored. On the 12th of Sun's Dusk, one of her few remaining research collaborators, Lurio Cines, was sent to the Imperial Prisons and Elara could see that the net cast by the Synod was closing around her. 

Determined, Elara hastened her plans. Orders to cease her experiments immediately were ignored. More angry letters were exchanged with the Arch-Mage. More threatening letters from the Synod were burned. A bookshelf was repurposed as a brace for the door to the her laboratory. Her ritual to summon a Dremora Lord across the infinities to Nirn was stopped at the last moment. Interrupted by the Arch-Mage and the entirety of the Grand Council of the Arcane University, Elara did not resist. There was no point. Her research had been ruined. Her work had been wasted. Months of preparation turned to ash. Years of research destroyed by cowards. She did not grovel. She did not beg. And she did not apologize. Aghast at her remorselessness, the Arcane University, her colleagues, and her friends, handed over to the Synod. Stripped of all of her appointments, she was branded a Daedric cultist, and called a danger to the safety of the good people of Cryodiil. The Synod accused her of perpetuating an abomination against the Nine Divines and the Arcane University was silent.

Shackled like a common criminal, Elara was imprisoned in the putrid basement of the Synod's cynosure in the market district. Awaiting her trial, Elara became convinced that her guilt was the only conceivable sentence. Fear, pitiable fear, and ignorance, hated ignorance, had corrupted her colleagues.

The Synod was wrong.

The Arcane University was wrong.

She would never forgive them.

[i][center]Liminal Bridges[/center][/i]

Imprisoned. Betrayed. Abandoned. Left to rot by the arcane institutions that she had dedicated her short life to, Elara grew afraid. Languishing in the darkness, she decided that she would not accept the cruel judgment of the ignorant. She would escape. She would continue her work. She would live. She had to live.

Days passed, days passed, and she remained imprisoned, covered in the dampness and filth. She feigned illness. She wept honestly and the fool of a guard released her shackles. The sparks from her magic struck him before he knew what hit him. She hoped she had not killed him, but there was no time, there was no time to make sure. Jumping from a window into the streets of the Imperial City, she found it was night. She landed poorly and her ankle burned. The darkness was a small fortune as she limped out of the Imperial City. 

She fled to the South, stumbling across the wilderness, hunted by agents of the Synod. Despised by her former colleagues in the College of Whispers, hated even, she did not falter. Her convictions grew. She accepted her moral superiority to the cowards of the Arcane University. She embraced the inescapable fact that she was alone. Certain only in her own arcane talents, she began to blame the Synod and College of Whispers for all her troubles. Weeping, cold, and hungry, she cursed the corruption that had afflicted the entire Empire. The Fourth Era was shrouded in darkness and was full of evil, ignorant fools. She was assailed from all sides by vile monsters that had stolen everything from her. Her books. Her friends. Her love. And worst of all her, her research.

Sneaking through villages, messages from the Imperial Legion haunted her. Descriptions followed her. News began to circulate concerning the wretched servant of the Daedra, a pitiful slave of the creatures, who had escaped justice in the Imperial City. Her old foe, Varian Aretino of the Synod, called for her head. Panicked, Elara ran further. Losing her map to a sudden torrential rain, she turned to West. Despairing, she ran faster. She could taste the flames. She could feel the noose around her neck. She could see the sword hanging above her head.

Her luck finally ran out near the outskirts of Skingrad.

[i][center]The Firsthold Revolt[/center][/i]

Trying to buy a meager parcel of supplies from an irritated merchant tired of being accosted by beggars, she was confronted by a group of city guards. An eagle-eyed lieutenant had recognized her appearance from a poorly drawn rendition affixed to one of the many missives sent out by the Synod. Starving, Elara put up a pitiful fight. In short order, she found herself bound, gagged, and unable to do little more than listen to as the guardsman cheerfully told her what terrible things would befall her before she was handed over to the Imperial Prison. 

Weeping with fear and rage, Elara had little time to notice the rebels that fell upon the guardsman with unbridled fury. The fighting that followed was fierce and bloody and men died screaming. In the chaos of the battle, Elara managed to free herself with the dropped dagger of a guardsman.

Free at last, Elara cast the thoughtlessly. Thunder rolled over the battlefield. Cold eyes alight with sparks of lightning greeted her. She was too weak. She was too tired. And she was too angry. She wanted them to suffer. She wanted them to die screaming. All of them. She lost control. The threads of her magic tore into bits. Inhuman words echoed across her mind. Frayed pieces tied her to the Storm Atronach. Her concentration faltered. She felt a strange force push back against her. An inhuman mountain of arcane energy. Will forged out of stone, now uncontained. She was an inconvenience. A tiny bug to be smashed. A most rude enslaver. A weak, small thing of no great consequence.

"Little wizard," the creature said, slow thoughts smashing against her like a falling boulder, sending her crumbling to the ground. Elara tried to run. She tried to crawl away from the mass of stone and lightening that followed her.

"Vengeance," the Daedra said with deep thought, turning towards the Imperial soldiers.

Elara buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to see. She was afraid. She heard desperate order shouted. A muffled battle cry rang out. And then the screaming started. Thunder echoed between the trees. Lightening scorched the air. The sickly sweet smell of burning flesh filled the clearing and drew near. Broken bodies tumbled across the ground. Pitiful screams were silenced by the hammer of stone.

The Storm Atronach took a menacing step towards her. A stranger dressed in furs darted in front of her and raised rusty sword. Unmoved, the Storm Atronach swung widely, indifferently separating the head of the rebel from his body. Time. His death bought time. Collecting the last of her will, Elara wove a final spell. The heavy fist of the Daedra loomed above her as she released the arcane energies she had hastily shaped. Only the wind touched her face as the banishment took effect.

"Good luck, little wizard," the creature said as it faded away, a smile creeping across the jumble of jagged rocks that resembled a face.

Elara had been saved. She had killed. She learned that she had been saved by a small group of rebels lead by Akamon the Redguard. She met Isobel Aurelia soon after and certain that returning to the wilderness by herself promised a death as cruel as any offered to her in the Imperial City, she decided to join the band of rebels fighting to free Skingard.

A creature born into great privilege, Elara has slowly acquired a taste for social change, feeling a deep gratitude towards the rebels who saved her from a fate that she rarely wishes to imagine. With the passing months, the disgraced arcane researcher has channeled all her disappointment and bitterness into rebellion. Guided by her own anger and the assumed aspirations of her saviors, she has turned her scholarly pen, prodigious intellect, and arcane talents towards the pragmatic concerns of revolution.

[B]Personality:[/B] Steeped in the arcane, Elara is in character sober, austere, preoccupied, and by force of intellectual concentration, often quite chilly. Although she hides it well, she is, in fact, a woman of generosity of spirit, when her circumstances permit it, which is unfortunately seldom these days. While accepted by the other rebels, Elara has, from the start been something of an oddity among them, and often remains aloof from her comrades. As such, arcane tomes and research remain her true sanctuary.

A cloistered academic, secluded from the world for much of her life, Elara views the world through the strange, rather mad eyes of a scientist. Doubly shielded by a lifetime of aristocratic privilege and an adulthood spent in the lofty towers of academia, her perspective can be unpragmatic to say the least. Old habits remain ingrained in the fibers of her very being and the customs of the Breton nobility are always close to her heart. By virtue of her privileged background she has become something of a tireless optimistic. An intellectual idealist, she is dismissive of risk and consequence in equal measure, feeling that any good idea is worth pursuing through the gravest of dangers. Reflecting this belief, Elara remains singularly unwilling to admit the heavy cost that she and others have paid for her arcane research.

Proud, arrogant, and convinced of her own genius, the young Breton mage can be frustrating to deal with. She is certain, quite certain, that she is right, and that others, especially the Synod, are necessarily wrong. Strong-willed despite her gentle background, she is surprisingly scrappy for a noblewoman, as long as matters do not stray into the physical domain. Stubborn, she is unused to refusal, unfamiliar with rejection, and struggles with the idea that other people can and often will tell her no. She possess a quick, sharp mind unbound by orthodoxy and an excellent memory, a roaring river of arcane knowledge, that threatens to wash away the uninitiated and unprepared. Even in rebellion, Elara remains devoted to magic and is consumed by her need to learn more. Bristling with self-confidence and bursting with intellectual energy, she continues to be terrifyingly single-minded in her pursuit of all things magical in nature.

Raised among the nobility, Elara is graced with refined manners. She is cordial, a gracious host, familiar with the correct way to use a fork, and a capable conversationalist, at ease entertaining strangers. Learned on a great number of topics, she is opinionated, and annoyingly happy to share her opinion, even when not asked, with only an impish smile offered as warning. Reflecting the values of polite society, she is concerned with appearances, careful not to offend, and quick to offer ways for others to save face or to smooth over disagreements. For all her many flaws, Elara is generous and well-disposed, seeing little reason to treat others poorly. However, she has little patience for stupidity and is decidedly intolerant of willful ignorance. Outside of conversation, she is fond of idle pleasures, and she particularly enjoys sweet wine accompanied with music.

Burdened by recent events, particularly her narrow escape from captivity, Elara feels an unwelcome fragility encompassing her person. Her spirit endures, but tarnished by fear, it grows dims. Unending doubt, a tapestry of uncertainty woven from the hateful critique of other scholars, nags at her. Uninvited guilt, summoned by the fear she has seen in the eyes of her friends as they looked upon her, attacks her. Repellant shame, given life by the anguish she has forced upon her honorable family, suffocates her. Her soul rests on the edge of a precipice and Elara suspects that the fall would shatter it. Shrouded with disquiet, she is markedly evasive and guarded. She is reluctant to discuss her estrangement from the Arcane University. She buries her regret beneath boundless ambition, hiding her fears with new ideas, silencing her sorrows with the fresh song of revolution.

Fortified by her rescue, Elara has rallied to the cause of the growing rebellion. She is committed with the devotion of a fresh zealot. Faced with the struggles of the common people of Tamriel for the first time, Elara is earnest in her desire to change Tamriel. However, her selfishness has left faint cracks in her newly adopted persona. The sense of justice which guides her hand is decidedly idiosyncratic. She writes with such venom because she takes personally the hurts inflicted on the downtrodden in society. She has transferred the slights and shafts of neglect, which so excoriated her, the betrayed genius of the Arcane University, to the miseries of the unprivileged. Into the pages of her war bulletin for the oppressed, the poor, the have-nots, the helpless, the powerless, she pours all the spleen of her rejection.   

There is a growing darkness to the young woman, violence recently awoken now festers, and unfamiliar feelings shroud her thoughts. Her prodigious intellect, once only drive by hope, can now be directed most cruelly at others. Anger, once foreign to her, now comes unbidden. Confident indifference has faded, informed by most bitter experience. Rejected by the Arcane University, betrayed by her friends, and mercilessly condemned by the Synod. Hatred once a poisonous drink, has slowly become a sweet wine from which Elara sips, and with each passing moment she dreams of revenge. A whisper caresses her spirit, weaving tales of a land freed from the superstitions of the past and the hateful ignorance of the weak.

[B]Favored Attributes:[/B]
[indent][i]Major:[/i] Intelligence
[i]Minor:[/i] Willpower[/indent]

[B]Favoured Skills:[/B]
[indent][i]Expert:[/i]
- [u]Conjuration:[/u] 

- Mysticism:
[i]Adept:[/i]
- [u]Destruction:[/u] 

- [u]Alteration:[/u]
[i]Apprentice:[/i]
- [u]Alchemy:[/u] 
[/indent]

[B]Spell List:[/B]
[indent][i]Conjuration:[/i] Conjure Familiar, Soul Trap, Command Daedra, Conjure Storm Atronach, Expel Daedra, 
[i]Mysticism:[/i] Reflect Spell, Reflect Damage, Dispel, Absorb Magicka, Spell Absorption
[i]Alteration:[/i] Magelight, Stoneflesh
[i]Destruction:[/i] Lightning Bolt, Chain Lightning, Lightning Cloak[/indent]

[B]Equipment:[/B] 
[indent][i]Staff of Sparks:[/i] In appearance, an ugly-looking staff of blackened and gnarled oak. Clearly damaged, the staff nonetheless appears functional and reverberates with plenty of arcane energy. When used offensively, the staff showers the target in sparks.

[i]Scissors:[/i] A sharpened pair of iron scissors, useful for cutting all manner of plants, sharpening quill pens, and snipping threads. While certainly not intended as a weapon, in a pinch Elara could use the scissors to defend herself.
[/indent]

[B]Belongings:[/B]
[indent]
[i]Leather Knapsack:[/i] Inside of a simple deerskin pack Elara keeps her prized journal, a quill, a carefully sealed bottle of ink, a couple of potions, and a small amount of gold wrapped in a pouch. 

[i]Traveling Supplies:[/i] Having landed on the doorstep of the rebellion without much in the way of useful property, Elara has acquired a motley collection of supplies thanks to the generosity of her new friends. Tied into a loose bundle, she carries a simple bedroll, some preserved venison wrapped in oiled paper, a full water skein, and a couple of straps of leather.

[i]Money:[/i] Elara currently has a paltry 25 septims to her name, kept carefully wrapped in an unremarkable bag of cloth.

[i]Elara's Journal:[/i] An elegant handwritten journal bound with Netch leather and Ruby Ash wood. The contents are in an unfamiliar script in an unknown language that at a glance appears to be derived from the Daedric alphabet. Scattered across hundreds of pages are many complex diagrams annotated with numbers and strange symbols. The title page, however, is clearly marked in Cyrodilic: [i]Elara's Arcane Journal[/i].

[i]The Doors of Oblivion:[/i] Elara possess an ancient and well-worn copy of the infamous book, [i]The Doors of Oblivion[/i]. A rare tome written by Nai Tyrol-Llar, the author details the journey of the great Conjurer Morian Zenas into Oblivion and his exploration of the realm of the Daedra. Filled with notes and diagrams in her own hand, it is clear that Elara has owned the book for some time.

[i]Amulet of Luck:[/i] An enchanted amulet said to bestow the bearer with good luck. It was given to Elara by her former paramour, Shara Omothan, as a reminder of a particularly amusing stay at the Tiber Septim Hotel.[/indent]

[B]Birthsign:[/B] Born on the 25th of Rain's Hand 3E 24, under the sign of [b]the Mage[/b], Elara possesses a remarkably deep resoiver of Magicka.

[B]Miscellaneous:[/B] Fond of written words, overly some might tease, Elara has made a habit of leaving scathing critiques at the scene of rebel raids. In harangues shot with a rabid fury, she vents all the outrage and neglect which has soured her own sense of worth. She speaks in a language only the truly poor could cleave to: words tempered in starvation, sentiments carved out of despair, anger forced by interminable subjection to injustice and tyranny. With a pen in hand she ceaselessly attacks the cruel Count of Skingard and the corrupted social order of Cryodiil.

[center][i]“I have done badly, I could do better.”[/i][/center]
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