Physical Description

Before he altered his appearance with magic, he had dark brown hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. He preferred a more unnatural look and now has a dull purple skintone with golden tattoo markings across his body and left eye. There are two piercings on his lower jaw and double lobe piercings on each ear. He has black scilera, golden iris and black pupil for his left eye but his right eye, hidden behind an eyepatch, is grey and clouded over. Hair is a wavy white and is usually kept up in a messy bun. For clothing, he prefers darks colors and sensual looks.

Speech

Gentle accent, soothing voice. Knows all spoken tongue on the continent, which isn't too many but not many can say they do.

Mental & Emotional

Deals quietly with his mental issues and prefers to not seem bothered by them. He deals with some nightmares, guilt and unique issues because of his "ruined" eye.

Beliefs

Doesn't believe in any gods, ironically, like most elves. He has read about all the other cultural versions of deities and remains atheistic.

Daily Life/Health

He is extremely healthy if you discount his right eye which can sometimes cause physical issues. These are far too many to be listed.

Powers/Abilities

An extremely skilled spellcaster due to his mother's teachings and his time spent on the Board of Magic. Also an extremely well trained fighter with bows, swords, daggers and axes. He prefers the axe second to a sword and is rarely seen using the bow.

Background/Story

Írizäldí was born to an older elven mother named Ëallíarmen and would, like most elves, be an only child. He was never told who his father was, only passed off as an unimportant and forgotten fancy, which had never bothered him. His mother was extremely strict but not unduly harsh. She expected the best from her son and gave little room for error. He was raised with the idea put in place that magic was more than what he was taught, what he's always known. Sometimes it's better to keep an open mind about such things and not be so fixed in place when it comes time to change for the betterment of the future. After all, elves lived eons and they'd most likely witness the rise and fall of empires outside their haven. How long would it be until something finally impacted them?

Írizäldí took to his training in magic with an earnestness that made his mother proud. He aimed for a spot on the board of magic beside her and earned it during his 302nd year. As his years progressed at the seat of the board, he noticed his mother's appearance shift. Ëallíarmen's once lovely brown waves became tinged with grey and her face became weighed down in appearance. He worried for her but it was all explained as purposeful in the ways of what she thought suited her visually. He was suspicious. His mother never especially cared for her looks as much as the other elves did but he knew this wouldn't be something she would change. In all the years he knew her, he had never known her to alter her natural form. Íri became one of the best on the board and was trusted with important assignments, along with his voice being well heard when it came time to make decisions.

One day, his mother opened up to the board about what she had been doing, as her son sat listening alongside them. Ëallíarmen had spent years in secret studying the ways of darker magic, now finally ready to share her findings. Íri sat quietly as mixed emotions filled the room and a heated discussion began. He wasn't incredibly stunned or angry. In fact, he felt a pride in his mother for her courage and willingness to put her life on the line for such discoveries. However, his slight smile faded when his mother's voice rose and something else bubbled up from her throat, sounds like a rising choir of otherwordly voices. She appeared to visually struggle, grasping at the wooden table in front of her, nails dug into its surface; splintering. Ëallíarmen moved like ever fiber of her body ached, like every atom was desperatley chaining itself down but eventually, whatever she was fighting won over. It happened so quickly that shock prevented him from moving. His body was rigid as people were ripped limb from limb. Íri's senses faded in and out, a ringing hung in the air as his breath caught in his throat. His mother, his beloved mother was tearing into the body of an elf, on her knees like an animal. Flesh clung between her teeth with fresh red drops piercing her newly pale skin.

Perhaps there was something left of his mother, deep behind her blackened eyes. As she stood in the viscera in the stony silence, she gave him one final look before she walked out of the room. He, still sitting, peered around to find he was the only one still breathing. He heard people yelling, some were fighting. There were screams. He doesn't know how long it took them to kill her, just that they eventually succeeded. By the time he got up, fourty-two had been killed and he had lost his mother. He fell in the Board's hallway, clutching his face, knees in warm blood. It felt like fire for little more than a moment then it was gone, the pain leaving behind a useless right eye. Though he would try later to heal this wound, along with the best healers in Ellesméra, it proved fruitless. The first person that he spoke to with open eyes was a healer about a fortnite later when his healing techniques weren't working. The elf ended up dead the next morning, savagely mutilated and tortured. Then the guards that he spoke to, when inquiring about the incident, ended up strung from the royal courtyard with their limbs removed. He donned an eyepatch with a spell to block his vision on a hunch and no more death was seen. The deaths of the elves remained a mystery and he remained quiet for fear of getting exhiled. He told none of his mother's curse and has kept his lips shut until this day.

He wasn't allowed to see his mother after the questioning. They tossed her body outside of Du Weldenvarden for the animals to tear her apart, refusing to give her an honorable cremation. After the guards had stopped watching over her body, he went to see her. He chose to bury his mother's bones, what was left of them after the beasts came to feed, in a peaceful location where he felt she could finally rest, and possibly, remove his unique issue. This didn't end up stopping it but he felt in his heart, his mother wasn't the cause of his torment and the deaths of all those they lost that day.

Around the time of Galbatorix's betrayal, Írizäldí disappeared, seemingly killed along with many other elves. He had left with a heavy heart seeing one of his closest friend's pupil's turn against them. He could no longer stand to see anymore bloodshed, choosing to walk the land of Alagaësia and pour his heart into adventures and discoveries. Íri believed his mother was on the right path and knew if she had help, she wouldn't have fallen. He chose to walk in his mother's footsteps and continue her work. Her dark pamphlets lay in his saddlebags as he sought out answers on how to control the very things that stole her away. All the while, the lingering feeling of a coldness behind his eyepatch reminded him of such thing's past outcome. The next hundred or so years were spent in isolation, learning from his mother's mistakes. In his travels, he stumbled upon an ancient crypt hidden away in the folds of the Hadarac desert. There lay a dragon egg of deep purple hue along with two others. He stepped softly forward, reaching to touch each one. After his hand touched the second egg, he felt a burning pain in his palm. Gasping, he fell back to witness the Gedwëy Ignasia in the middle of his left hand.

A peep came from within the egg as a male dragon whose name would soon be, Kahn, pecked at the shell lining. Írizäldí took the baby under his cloak and carted the other two eggs away from their tomb. He finally made a return, alongside an adolecent dragon and two unhatched eggs, several years after Eragon had surfaced and dragons started being born again. Galbatorix was defeated and Ellesméra has grown yet again, peaceful. He attempted to make peace with his friend, who was bitter over his seeming abandonement during their time of great peril, after learning that he truly hadn't perished. Írizäldí wasn't even aware his friend had fallen in battle and was resurrected before he finally made it home. Although it took time, the two found some form of reconciliation among familiar company.

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Írizäldí has since been mostly focusing on his usual spellwork study, with the added interest in elseworld portals. He helps with the Riders if they truly need him but mostly, he sticks to himself. People don't tend to notice his absence, as he's not the most popular elf or Rider. A half year ago, he was traveling with Kahn toward the Hadarac when he was overtaken by elseworld magic. Because its origins are from another world and time, his own magic proved useless and he was captured. His captors called themself the Vale and they held a cult-like mindset. They were previous followers of Galbatorix and said his "son" was owed the throne. Even some of the fallen king's previous spellcasters were involved. In order to make their wishes a reality, they wanted to force Írizäldí to fight for them. They were aware of his unique attribute, their "leader" having a vision of his capabilities. Íri would be very useful if he could just be controlled. He was subjected to hours of mental battery, his wards being peeled away bit by bit. He put up a far bigger fight than they expected due to his knowledge of magics unknown. In the end, his attempts at control were useless and his servitude was inevitable.

He fought for them over a period of months, being sent to fight riders and dragons. He killed one and nearly killed another. Íri, again, proved difficult to control and would veer oddly in their plan, having some form of minute control. Thanks to the efforts of a younger Rider, their leader was convinced away from their hold. The Vale decided to throw Írizäldí straight into the center of Ellesméra and kill as many elves, riders and dragons as possible. He was unsuccessful with all and was downed after some time. He was held down and healed of their control. With the Vale seemingly ruined, he healed for a bit before returning to "normal." This event has deeply affected him and he feels lost in his own head. Though he is very aware of his reputation and is used to being an outcast, the silence after his return bothers him. He has gone back to his previous adventures without properly processing it, instead choosing to laugh and smile away all that bothers him.

Trivia

• Very unusual for an elf, being as he can hardly stand his own people and prefers the company of other species.
• The slice in his left ear was given to him in a physical fight from a disagreement.
• Though he's not fond of socializing with most people, he loves it when his few loved ones stop by and "interrupt" his work.
• First name is pronounced Ear-Eh-Zahl-Dee. Last name is pronounced Trah-Gh.

Stats

Personality

Extremely outgoing but seldom liked by his own race. When around any other kind of people, he can fall into the best of graces or have everyone hating him within minutes. Quite charming at the right moment. Tries to enjoy as much of his life as possible and not focus so much on the hurt of the past. Considers himself a realist but appears as an opptimist. Thinks himself to be quite funny, always filling in the quiet moments with jokes and banter. Has the proclivity to be selfish and this doesn't seem to bother him. He has very few people he cares about and anyone else can kick dirt. Though he still manages to disappoint those closest to him. Very stubborn and highly intelligent but not terribly wise.

It is...highly probable that from the very beginning, apart from death, the only ironclad rule of human experience has been the Law of Unintended Consequences. - Ian Tattersall