Thia Nailo

Daughter of Lia and Aust Nailo, older sister of Rolan


Age: 135
Hight: 5’6
Eyes: Pale amber
Hair: Silvery blonde

Class: Wizard (Evocation)


Like most of her kind, Thea had a knack for magic. She also liked it well enough, so saw no reason not to attend the lessons given by her parents. They had been indentured to the Silverthorn family for longer than Thea had been alive. No-one knew why, exactly, but it was clear the human family had some hold over Aust, for he would not leave, even though he more than had the power to do so.

She studied hard, and seemed to understand the lessons easier than the others. This was not as much fun as you’d think. Her brother, whom she’d hoped would at least be her ally against the human children, instead turned out to be a walking anti-magic field. No lesson, no matter how basic, seemed to sink in, so he was left to his own devices, free to roam and find mischief. She, however, was left with the human children. More than one generation of them. Joy of joys. They usually came to resent the ease with which she grasped her lessons, and then would spend the next decade or so making her life harder in any way they could. After all, she was just the child of the servants, and an elf, and could do nothing in retaliation. Every day she lived there, she was made painfully aware that she, because she was an elf, would never have the access to the influence and wealth that was available to the humans, No matter how smart she was, or how hard she worked, the world would never see her as anything but an elf.

Hope arrived on the day her brother was banished, oddly enough. The druid who took him in did a good job explaining to him the proud and ancient legacy of elvenkind, and when she would visit, Thea was also treated to these tales, and over time they awakened something inside her, a yearning to be free, to be an elf in more than accursed name. She would use her study time to find out more, to learn all she could about the history of her people, soon adding to the tales being told on her visits.
Over time, she grew restless, so when Rolan decided he was off to seek adventure, she couldn’t stay behind. Somewhere, there was a city, Liyanana, lost to all but the oldest elven legends, and this place, she knew, would be the key to the future of her kind.

This decision to leave was hastened by something of a scuffle at the most recent Harvest Festival. Taunted, as usual, for the points of her ears and the power in her blood, one of the lesser Silverthorn offspring had pushed her too far. He had laid his hands on her, offering to show the young Thea ‘what elf women were good for’. He received for his trouble a taste of elven magical power and scars that would never quite heal. Normally, Thea would have been shocked by her violent response, but on this day she simply felt free, for the first time. Together, Rolan and Thea would find this city, and make a place where elves could be proud of their heritage. Where all elves could feel as she did.

As time has passed, the rage that fuelled the young elf, that fanned her flames, was no longer sustaining. Deep down, she had known this, but resisted the self-reflection that would be needed to change her path. Luckily, adventures, and the discipline of the Grand Academy, were a good start. Thia was finding her approach to magic changing, and thus, the rest of her life as well. The book, that obscure, pre-fall text they had found, was showing her different magics, different approaches to her craft. Even in their travels away from Avissium, she would study and learn, letting the knowledge seep into her, changing her, opening her eyes to the possibility that not everything had to be burnt to ash.

Thia had always been ambitious when it came to magic, which was not unusual for a wizard. She had focused on study, on learning, on gaining power, often to the exclusion of all else. Thia had been angry, and thought that arcane power could help her channel that rage into something useful. But her rage had not saved her brother. Her arcane might had not been enough to protect him from giants. Once more she found herself looking on helplessly as he was harmed, powerless to stop it. That horrid day at the Silverthorn Estate came rushing back, and with it, that overwhelming anger, that desperate rage at being unable to protect her brother. Decades of fury welled up in her and spilled over, unleashing fire, and more fire, and still more fire, until the site of Rolan’s fall was little more than a smouldering ruin.

Although Rolan yet lived, Thia would find that her anger had largely burnt itself out, leaving behind a serenity she had not felt before. Her brusque nature had been replaced by a gentleness, a kindness that may well have been unsettling to those who knew her. These changes were enhanced by their journey through the forest, stirring the elven spirit that had lain dormant within her for so long. But it was the druid grove that would turn the tide, cement these changes, alter her path for good. Such peace and beauty could not help but stir her, refresh and heal her. Well, that and a certain druid who rather graciously took the time to remind the young elf that there was more to life than study. Renewed, Thia would return to Avissium a very different elf than when she left.

Thia Nailo

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