I am of the stars. My name: Elethar.

My birth was my father’s death cry. Haldir, the Forgotten God, learned of Baldir’s treachery
and, after committing the universe’s first kinslaying, proceeded to sacrifice himself to shield
the material world from extraplanar invasion. His astral body shattered into a hundred
pieces, that proceeded to fall unto the material world. From the impact sites came we: The
First, Haldir’s Children.

It was not long until we managed to unite. Each of us held within him a fragment of Haldir’s
own soul, and that soul gave us all power beyond imagining. My brother, the firstborn, was
blessed with martial strength rivaling gods. My sister inherited Haldir’s kindness, and had
such healing powers that she could undo even the most divine death. The others were also
blessed, all with physical strength to rival archfiends.

But I was different. My strength lay not in my martial prowess, but my mental capacity. From
birth I saw the world differently: Places of power, the winds of magic around us, ancient
leylines crossing the power centres of the world. And along with that vision, came an
insatiable need to learn. I spent countless years in study, withdrawn from my brethren,
experimenting with this weave. I wrote down observations, experimentations, and
breakthroughs. I invented the first spells, and that gave me my title: The First Mage.

It was only the first of titles given to me, and the most flattering of them all.

With my magic, I created the demiplane upon which we Haldririn made our home. I made it
so that none would be able to sense or find it. My brethren, under the pressure of Gods, had
come to an… existential decision. That we would remain hidden from the world, let the
lesser races grow on their own, and only venture out as defenders against those too
powerful to defend against. Time and again I argued that such a position was foolhardy. That
the lesser races would be too weak to defend themselves against monsters, and that it
would be much better that we played a more active role as their caretakers, the gods be
damned.

I was always rebuked. Meanwhile, humans, elves and dwarves alike suffered. Orcs, Trolls
and other more physically imposing beings slaughtered and raped without check. I would
not sit idly and watch a massacre that could be prevented.

So I went against Gods and brethren alike. With mere drops of blood I uplifted the Azlanti
into protectors of the weak. Gave the young races tactics and strategy to exploit weakness.
Taught them magic so that they gain an edge over the dark.

For my efforts Gods and brethren decided that I was to be punished. The Gods especially did
not like my sharing of the arcane, as they wanted only their faithful to cast magic. As per
usual, the Gods lift not a finger unless it suits them.

So they issued an ultimatum: My head, or all Haldirin would suffer. My brother, the
Firstborn, dubbed me Betrayer, and himself Kinslayer, for that is what he was forced to do to
save our people.
I fought back.

With magic in hand, I was able to overpower my brother. Our duel split the earth and made
the heavens themselves quake, for even without magic, my brother was the epitome of
martial prowess, and he was armed with a blade capable of killing demigods. In the end I
stood over his unconscious body, and was faced with a dilemma. If I killed him, by rite of
combat I would have proven my cause just, and not even the gods would be able to stop me,
for they set such rules in the first place. But then I would have killed my brother, become
kinslayer myself.

I chose neither. I turned to the gods and shouted my terms: I would impose myself to exile
on the northern end of the world, where none thread, and leave my brethren to do as they
will. The laws my brethren set, I would have to follow. There was a silence, and then there
was light. A geas formed at the back of neck, a contract formed. I left my brother therem
whisked away to the cold north. It is there that I have made my home, where I have spent
eternity and more.

In my time of solitude I have learned much. It is a peculiar place, the maelstrom. Wild Magic
of magnitudes unheard of surges here, and I have had all the time in the world to study it.
Wild Magic may look chaotic, and it is, but in the chaos, if one has the time, may find
patterns. Patterns that make Wild Magic… manageable. It is by study and countless failures
that I have learned to keep it under control. My own castle was created by use of Wild
Magic, my concentration strained to its limits… But the results speak for themselves.

Despite our… differences, the Gods, knowing not to waste one with my gifts, have granted
me the role of the Time Weaver. It is up to me that world-breaking time paradoxes do not
happen. On that end I have in my arsenal the Timesplitter, a curved blade made out of the
tooth of an ancient Great Wyrm of Time, infused with the energies of the Wheel of Time. It
allows me to cut, lock, repeat, stop, slow and quicken time. I use its boundless powers
liberally.

My goal is singular and absolute: The protection of the material plane against the forces of
evil. For that goal I am willing to take any advantage I can get. Deaths are a statistical reality
that cannot be avoided. When the choice is between the death of thousands and extinction,
the choice is clear.

And that is why I orchestrated the events that lead to the near extinction of my race. Over
the years, the power of Haldir within the newer generations has waned, and the Haldirin
have become a shadow of their former selves. That would not do.

So, under disguise, I gave the Butcher that which he needed: The way into my own
demiplane. I allowed him entrance, knowing that would mean the slaughter of hundreds. All
of my race, except two.

I was very particular with when I gave him this information, you see. The day that my
nephews were to take their coming-of-age rite, where they had to venture outside of the
demiplane. As they exited it, I let the Butcher in, and watched him bathe in my kin’s blood.
Why?
I am bound by the laws of my brethren. The laws stated that we would not interfere with the
lives of the younger races, save to protect them from that which they cannot defend
themselves against. But laws are defined by the living. My nephews have discarded the old
laws of our kind, and have taken a more active role In the affairs of mortals. That which once
constrained me, now gives me freedom, if only a small amount of it. Furthermore, with our
brethren alive, Elric would never have ventured to make the Haldirthor whole again, and
that is needed if we hope to bring back the splendor of our race. Something necessary if the
world is to survive the Age of Reckoning that will soon be upon us. The spawn of Arioch will
soon war against each other. The evils that lurk in the darkest corners of the world are
stirring, sensing their time is coming. And worst of all, the Unmaker itself looms, making its
way to us from across the darkest depths of the fathomless universe. If it takes the death of
my people for there to be hope of survival, I will learn to live with it.

Because I can live with it.