Ysana Leuthrysse

Ysana's appearance is fairly unusual for a star elf, in that she is considerably taller than most other elves, her skin has a purplish hue, and her eyes glow prominently at night and in darkness. Her hair is aquamarine, though by night it twinkles with the silvery hue of the moon. In most light, it is possible to see tiny motes of light, resembling faint stars, which appear in random places upon her bare skin, visible only from just the right angle. All of these traits seem to suggest a remarkably pure star elven bloodline, much as would have been seen in the earliest days of Sildeyuir before the immigration of western elves to that refuge, but her parentage only confuses the issue rather than resolving it (see and Parentage|Birth and Parentage]).

Her features are pleasing, but troubled; she has weathered many woes, and bears many burdens. Her voice is cool, and soothing, but can be commanding and resounding when needed. Her eyes are aquamarine, though it is difficult to see their true color behind their constant silvery glow, brightest in dark surroundings. Like most star elves, her skin bears a mark; hers is the Mark of the Eagle.

She is usually seen dressed in priestly vestments; in her faith, these are typically gossamer white robes, woven of spider silk interlaced with sparkling strands of spun moonlight--this is known as Mooncloth, and vestments spun of it bear a striking and brilliant pearly white glow. The vestments of any high priest include silver inlay and gems, usually moonstone; hers are unique, and bear many aquamarines. Her outfit includes many ornamentations, among them several eagle feathers, which she claims are ancient heirlooms of her clan, and bear tremendous power.

As a high priestess in command of a major temple, Ysana is gentle, but firm. She endeavors to ensure that all under her command innately understand their duties and need not bother her with trifling details; when making decisions, she greatly prefers to spend as long as is needed in deep contemplation to choose the wisest path, and thus does not feel right making snap decisions about even small matters. When pressed to do so, she is notoriously terse and dismissive, and can come off as aloof to the uninitiated. Her decisions, whether long-considered or off-the-cuff, are usually fair, and give no bias to any consideration but the greater good.

To those close to her--her priestesses, her friends and loved ones--she is a tiger, a fierce defender of her clan, and a pillar of stability in their lives, always willing to take on unlimited burdens on their behalf. She can be overbearing, at times, offering frank and uncompromising analysis of others' situations, but is always ready to help them, emotionally, with the fallout. Many credit her current ways ("bittersweet", as famously described by her once paramour Elwrynn Galanodiel) to a marked shift in her personality with the death of her husband and family, now over two centuries old, but still ever-present in her thoughts.

To those seeking her counsel as a priestess, Ysana is a font of patience. She will listen to any tale, any woes, and will always have deep insight to offer. While she does not have unlimited resources, she always seems to be in the right place at the right time for those most in need of her, where others simply wouldn't do; and, to those, she pays special attention to ensure the wisdom of the Goddess reaches them in their hour of need. Though she loves all creatures, her love for those chosen by the Goddess to walk paths as difficult as her own hold a special place in her heart; she prizes above all kindred spirits.

It is rare that she serves in the Maiden's Festhall, and rarer still that she takes a lover (the last having tromped off to Myth Drannor decades ago), but when she finds occasion to do so, she is a veritable firebrand. Some say (though never to her face) that she "goes into heat" every few decades, and her appetites are not easily quelled when this happens. Few men or women of any race can satisfy her, and she has even been known on occasion to sojourn into the Yuirwood or beyond to seek solace in these times.

Birth and Parentage

Ysana was born in 1035 DR, and has seen many things in her day. Born in the Eagle Clan stronghold of Kar'nathirr in Sildeyuir, Ysana was raised in a typical fashion: first learning to hunt, to survive on her own in the harsh wilds of the Sildeyuir, and then of the arts magical and mundane. She was not recognized as a particular talent in any magicks in her youth, though her skill with a bow was impressive.

Ysana's heritage is difficult to trace. Her father Vaendras Leuthrysse was an unusual sort, ever restless in the Sildeyuir and rarely staying put for long. He frequented the mortal world, not only Aglarond but points beyond, and became something of a philanthropist. He was a noble of Velprintalar, a wealthy patron of the arts, and particularly of music. He was known to be an excellent musician in his own right, with a beautiful singing voice, and an occasional paramour of Melordianix the song dragon of Relkath's Foot, likely for that reason.

Her more important matrilineal descent is impossible to trace. Nyaeve of Night (pronounced "nee-AHV") was a mysterious figure, an elf of uncertain lineage who wandered out of Sildeyuir shortly after Ysana's birth as abruptly as she'd wandered in. She was taken to be a dark elf at first, though one with the same twinkling skin and hair as any star elf. She was of a height with the star elves of old, half a foot taller than Vaendras, already tall for a star elf. She was mostly silent, but exuded sensuality, and had clearly come to Sildeyuir to seek a mate. Vaendras, being an adventuresome sort, was happy to oblige; theirs was a whirlwind romance, lasting barely three years before Nyaeve disappeared back to what she called "The Land of Night", the unknown realm from which she hails. Her legacy lives on only in Ysana.

Becoming a Woman

Though Vaendras was not the most traditional of star elves, his daughter was happily accepted into the clan, having proved her worth through the traditional trials, bearing the scarification process of the Mark of the Eagle without the slightest twitch or utterance, and hunting the greatest of mythical beasts of the Sildeyuir with the ease of the huntresses of old. She even tamed her first nightsabre at the tender age of 42, though, sadly, it and many who followed could not survive the rigors of her adventures.

The daughter of two famously restless individuals, Ysana was surprisingly comfortable living a traditional life as guardian of her clan's lodge. By the age of 100, she had become the youngest Chief Huntress of her clan, sharing the honor with other elves many centuries her senior. Of course, it would be untoward for one in her position not to become a matron, contributing her gifts to future generations. She undertook the Hunt of Syreena, an ancient tradition which could last years, in which she sought out her one true love, her soulmate, in the dangerous wilds of the Sildeyuir.

She traveled far beyond the civilized clan holds, far beyond the veil of known Sildeyuir, whereupon she encounter him: a wanderer, a seeker of truth, a Druid of the Fang: Erevar Oressyne, also known as Whitefang, the North Wind. Though many centuries her elder, Erevar saw in her a kindred spirit, one who could handle his intensity, his ferocity. She hunted him, as he prowled the wilds in his silver wolf form, thinking him a legendary beast who would make a fine trophy. When she caught up to him, he took her, and their love shook the twilight forests even back in their clan holds.

Love and Loss

Ysana and Erevar were wed in 1158 DR, with the latter moving into the clan hold of the former, as is customary. She bore two daughters, Nyaeve and Oreena, and a son, Marzhan. As they grew up, they showed great promise: Nyaeve, the elder, was something of a sorceress, while her sister Oreena seemed as gifted an archer as her mother. Marzhan was a quiet youth, but his affinity for animals hinted at a rare gift; he might be a druid, or at least a naturalist with some propensity for empathy and healing.

In a beautiful house woven of living trees, Ysana's family thrived. She was the envy of her clan sisters, her healthy daughters raising hell and breaking hearts even as precocious teenagers, her husband's passion for her never wavering in the passing years. But it was not to be.

In 1180 DR, the Eagle Clan holds were assaulted by a group of nilshai, unlike anything that had been seen before. Ysana rode out with the other Chief Huntresses to meet them, while Erevar defended their home and the clan holds at large. Ysana and the other huntresses were overrun by the attacking nilshai, whose magic easily outclassed their skill at archery and their mastery of the wild lands. By the time they returned to the clan holds, many homes were burning with fel flames that could not be extinguished.

Erevar was at the forefront of the defense, wielding the fury of earth against them, and making himself their greatest target. They lashed at him with strands of fel flame that seared pure agony into his flesh, but he did not yield. To distract him, they entangled his home with webs of eldritch magic, locking his young inside; the ruse worked, and they were able to lure him into an ambush, where they descended upon him and fed upon the energy of his soul, reducing his physical form to ever-burning ash.

Ysana returned to the clan holds, and started toward her own home, but was reminded of her obligations by the other chiefs. She stood her ground, and their solidarity was all that stood between the greater clan and utter ruin. Ultimately, the nilshai retrated, their fel energies spent upon the guardians of the clan, sparing most of the innocent besides Ysana's own children. When they were clear, she ran to her home, but was far too late; the house was burned to cinders, her husband along with it.

In the days that followed, the clan did all it could to assuage her, to mitigate her loss, but her pain ran too deep. She was changed in that day, and who can say if it was for the better. All her worldly ways and virtues had failed her. The time came when she charged into the dark mists at the edge of the Sildeyuir, intending to join her family in the afterlife, but it was not to be. Indeed, she died that day, meeting the same fate as hundreds of nilshai, but her sojourn into the next life would be short-lived.

The Shores of Eternity

She awashed on the shores of an island amidst the Eternal Sea. Assuming she had passed into the next world, she called for her husband, for her children, for anyone at all...but she was alone.

For days, she ascended the harsh, cold stone, slippery with the mists of the sea. Her ascent was the most difficult trial she had yet undergone; every time she thought she could rest, every time she felt the ascent was at an end, it only grew worse. The water grew colder, the rocks sharper, the footing more slippery, and the drop ever more perilous. She could not track the days, or weeks, or months or years she spent on that trackless ascent, and was at wit's end miles before she reached the summit.

But reach it she did. Abruptly, beyond the last ragged, frost-chilled stone, there was flat land, and grass. She collapsed, broken, bloody, and bereft of strength, onto the cool cushion of living earth, and rested. Unknown time passed as she lay there, not sleeping, but recuperating, her eyes fixed on the infinite stars above, their scale and number no longer masked by the limitations of the mortal mind. She counted a hundred million stars before she had finished a single sliver of the sky, and was interrupted.

"Wayward child," said the Goddess. She never saw her, but only felt her nearby. She knew seeing her might annihilate her soul, and hearing her voice was enough of a challenge to avoid losing herself in its infinite melody, her being pounded against the Goddess' unfathomable power as surely as the sea pounded against the shore below. "Thy pain is thy blessing, and thy curse. If thou wilt walk the Silver Path, solace awaits."

She turned to look, and the Goddess was not there. Only a path of glowing stones, ascending a gentle slope toward a massive temple, gleaming in white, infinitely far away. She walked the path, not knowing what to expect. She didn't do so out of love for the Goddess, or hope for her own salvation, or even out of faith that good things awaited her; she was pissed, and wanted some satisfaction from the only one around who seemed to be able potentially to take responsibility for what had happened to her.

She struggled against infinity, but the temple never came closer into view. "Child," said the voice, as pleasing as it was grating against her spiritual ears, weak even in memory of their once mortality, "I am not that way."

She turned and stormed off in a new direction, and then another, but made no further progress along the path. "Where the hell are you, you bitch?!" Ysana called into the infinite night. There was no further response.

Instead, she encountered a woman she'd never known. Her skin was deep brown, but sparkled in the darkness like the stars above. Her hair and eyes matched Ysana's own, her size and stature yet beyond her own impressive scale. She did not know her, but she did, somehow, in this world...

"My daughter," Nyaeve addressed. "The Goddess can only help those who help themselves. She is Hope Eternal. She does not show the way...she only guides your path. You must find your own way."

Furious, and through streaming tears, Ysana demanded, "why me? Why did you curse me to this life?" Even as she railed upon her mother with non-physical fists, she collapsed into her embrace.

"My own daughter. I walk the path of the Goddess. I must trust in the rightness of it. Not all are defended by the light. Some of us...some must be the defenders." She met her daughter's eyes, and it seemed comprehension began to shine in them.

"Will I always hurt so? Will I never find solace?" she asked, quivering in uncertainty even as she accepted her fate.

"You can see only to the solace of others, my daughter, and trust that you shall be loved by the Goddess. Loved, as you were by me..." she whispered as she faded into infinity.

Ysana was silent for a long time. "Silent, and from a great distance," she finished the thought, but just the same, she started mindlessly up the path, her footing sure, her determination set. She could not find love for the Goddess, she could not find any for her mother, but she was not going to let go of the love of her people, and for the world she'd tried so hard to defend. She wasn't going to let pain like hers be felt by anyone--not if she could help it.

What she found at the summit, she cannot express, nor can she possibly share the experience. It brought her a small measure of peace, the merest balm over the agonies of her soul. Beyond the summit, she found a path back to the earth, and awoke, cold, hungry, but very much alive in the Yuirwood.

20 years had passed. She'd been memorialized, her deeds not forgotten, but her presence no longer needed in her clan holds. She did not even visit them, passing out of the Sildeyuir as abruptly as she had reentered it. Instead, she looked deep within her soul, and found her own path. Her wanderings led her to Relkath's Foot, and from there, things would only get more interesting.

The Path of Silver