Cael is a tall, lithe, feminine individual. They have dark brown, almost black hair that is tied into a long, thick braid which falls over their shoulders. Their braid has a single green feather tied at the end of it, with feathered earrings of the same blue-green colour. Eyes are a deep brown with green around the irises. Their skin is a tanned brown, with scars on his left cheek, right shoulder and chest above the heart. They wear dark leather armor, thigh high leather boots, and black leather archery gloves. Facial expression would be neutral, but with eyes that are slightly bitter. 

The Fell Blade: A pitch black blade with an intricate but primitive looking handle. In the center of the hilt is a carving that looks like a reptilian eye. It is a rather large longsword which looks like it should throw the wielder off balance when wielded one handed, yet is carried as though it were weightless by the Warden. 

Early Life

Countless generations of rangers have guarded the world from the Shadow. Malevolence has taken many forms around the land- but all that time ago, it was a blade forged with its own evil intelligence. Though the method of its creation has been long since lost, the only reason it has not done more damage to the people of this land is thanks to one ranger, the Fell Warden, who sacrificed his future- and that of his descendants- to bring the evil presence to heel. 

Although he did not know what pain it would bring to those who came later, his descendants never questioned it. They know what could happen if their will wavered for merely a second. And hundreds, perhaps a thousand years later, the blade’s newest guardian exists in much the same way. It is known to other rangers to bring great misfortune upon those whose bloodline it infects, and as such, most Fell Wardens grow up isolated even within a community. Fell Wardens often die younger than most as well, living long enough to sire an heir and train them. In the case of multiple children, the one with the most aptitude is chosen as the Fell Warden. Not everyone has the mental fortitude to bear the burden, and even formerly strong minds can break under the pressure of the Shadow.

Such was the case with the current Fell Warden. There were two children born to the last generation’s Fell Warden, Cael’s father. The firstborn was a boy, Miron, and the second a younger girl, Leithor. Soon after Leithor’s birth, their mother, Galarien, vanished. According to their father, Dagron, she passed away, but Miron was not so sure. However, he was too young to question this.

It was expected that the firstborn would be the one to carry the Fell Blade, as was custom. He was trained with the sword nearly from birth, and displayed great martial prowess. The jewel of his family, as evidenced by his given name, Leithor’s older brother knew the weight he would one day carry. He knew, even, that his heart was not built of the same indestructible mettle as his sister. The mental aptitude to turn away darkness did not come as easy to him as it did to her. But even so, in his heart, which was perturbed with doubt, he couldn’t turn away from his destiny. After all, if he bore the burden, she would not - he could spare her from the darkness their bloodline had carried for so many generations. 

The time eventually came for the Fell Blade to move to its next wielder. When Miron was reaching his teenage years, and Leithor not far behind, their father passed away. While the circumstances surrounding his death were mysterious, to any Ranger the cause was clear - the Shadow had stolen his years. This would be the fate that would one day befall Miron. 

But the Fell Blade would have three sacrifices that day. For it was not Miron who was meant for the blade, but Leithor. What greater way to pull in the perfect wielder, what better training against torment and grief, if not to steal their entire family from them first? 

Miron took hold of the blade, his younger sibling watching as he immediately began to fall to its influence. Dark veins crept from the hilt to his hands, up his arms, to his chest, up his neck, turning his eyes black. Before her eyes, the brother whose strength she idolized transformed into something unrecognizable. Something that didn’t even recognize her- something that wanted to devour her. Alone, unarmed, and scared, it was all Leithor could do to fend him off, in the fight receiving the deep wound to their right cheek from his claws. Be it luck, be it fate, the Fell Blade dropped from his hands to hers, and found its way deep into his heart. Blood poured from the wound onto her hands, splattered onto the ground and stained her clothes and mind. From that moment on, unbidden, unwanted, Leithor became the next true Fell Warden, a darkness within her worthy of that cursed blade. 

Youth/Young Adult

The stigma of the Fell Blade meant that the young Warden trained largely away from other Rangers. While they lived in close enough proximity, others avoided her. This didn’t stop the brave or curious from straying near - or perhaps they pitied her. One such Ranger, Túrion, likely out of a sense of sympathy for the youth, trained her in swordsmanship. Túrion’s daughter, Míriael, a bright girl with light skin and curly blonde  hair, often joined them. Youths so often search for companionship, and this was Leithor’s first real friendship. Perhaps friendship is not strong enough a word - Leithor grew to love Míriael as though Míriael were the sun in the sky. It’s easy to dismiss the love that two young people can have for each other, but when one lives under a night sky perpetually blotted out by darkness, love can seem like the one tether to hold onto. Leithor, a girl haunted, and Míriael, a girl brighter than the stars, balanced each other out in the way night and day do; moon and sun, sadness and joy. At the time, Leithor knew she loved Míriael, but could not find the words. Even at that age, she knew the blight the Fell Blade could bring upon anyone she kept close. So did Túrion, and it is only natural he would choose to protect his daughter from the cursed Warden.

It felt like a double betrayal - the paternal figure she had grown to trust, and the girl she had grown to love so deeply, gone both at once, leaving her once again alone. Túrion made it clear why, after sending Míriael back home one day and keeping Leithor back. 

This is goodbye, Fell Warden. I cannot allow your curse to befall my daughter.

Without being able to tell Míriael the truth about the feelings she kept deep inside, Leithor fled. 

I am filled with darkness- a sickness I will never recover from.

Now completely on their own, Leithor changed their name, burdening themselves further with a name they felt could fit their curse - Cael Delor. A sickness. A horror. Not one who could be set free. 

This was the kind of treatment they grew to expect from fellow Rangers. Isolated, embittered, Cael Delor pursued their path with vigor, slaughtering monsters and fighting the Shadow as fate demanded of them. The blood of monsters fed the Blade, as per the agreement with the first Fell Warden. Meanwhile, the poison of isolation flowed through Cael. Once bright and agreeable, Cael became taciturn and bitter. This put even further space between them and possible allies. As they grew into adulthood, this anger grew into a burning desire to end the curse forever, to spare their descendants the kind of pain they had suffered. 

The search for the truth began. 

Adulthood to present

Unkind years have passed, seemingly taking all the time in the world while also taking no time at all. The weight of the future, and the necessity of the Fell Warden to have an heir, sits on Cael’s shoulders like many heavy stones. It is not a future they want to pursue, not a destiny they ever desired, but rather one that was unwillingly forced upon them. The search for a way to end the Fell Blade forever consumes their every thought. The Corrupted monsters that blight the land continue to feed the Blade’s hunger, and all the while, a man’s voice whispers in Cael’s dreams - 

If you gave me everything, I could free you from it all.