Wythri Majaera

An outcast from her family, Wythri wields raw magical power -- with unforeseeable side-effects


Appearance: 1.67 m, 50 kg, Red hair, Red eyes.
Wythri is a very beautiful Elf female who appears to Humans to be in her early twenties. (Actually, she is only just past her first century, though this is still considered young by Elf standards.) She is below average in height for a White Elf (though not for a Human) with lightly tanned skin, a small, upturned nose, pouting lips, and large, very expressive reddish eyes. She wears her bright red hair tied back in a tail or topknot with her pointed ears prominent. She is fond of wearing clothes of a flattering cut dyed in bright colors; she also likes affectations like capes and jewelry. She usually carries a satchel of random odds and ends that she’s picked up that she’s decided might be useful.


Wythri Majaera was born Wythrindael of the House Majestros in Pasion. This old noble Elven house had long been renowned for its affinity for magic. Some of the greatest mages of Pasion have come of this bloodline. Thus, Wythrindael proved a great disappointment when she showed a complete ineptitude for the arcane arts.

It was not that the young elfmaid lacked the drive to become a wizard. Quite the opposite. She studied and practiced diligently for years, trying to overcome whatever mental blocks prevented her from conjuring the most basic cantrip. Sadly, all her efforts were in vain. It was not that her spells would fizzle or misfire; Wythrindael was simply incapable over creating even a minor magical effect. Her family’s attitude toward her constant failures began as patient amusement but over the years soon turned into exasperated frustration. Eventually the Majestros House simply gave up on the child, keeping her locked away in one of the
family’s remote manors and hoping that no one would learn of their imperfect offspring.

Shamed that she had caused such disappointment to her House and family, Wythrindael continued to practice and study fruitlessly in the months that followed. She realized that something more than the usual training was required. The Majestros had in their possession some of the finest and most complete libraries on arcane lore to be found in the Western Lands. Wythrindael had studied in these libraries as part of her apprenticeship but she also knew of ancient vaults where vastly powerful and old books and scrolls on exotic rituals were stored. She had never been allowed to visit this chambers – firstly because of her inexperience and later because what was the point?

One day while the rest of the household was asleep or away, Wynthridael stole into one of the vaults within the towers of the manor. There were magical wards of protection on the vault but these enchantments recognized a Majestros elf and allowed her to pass. Through the day and the night, she searched through shelves upon shelves and racks upon racks of dusty tomes and parchments, seeking some sort of magical ritual that would grant her a real connection with the Flow. After several hours, she came across a very old ritual dating back to the years following the fall of the Demon. Though Wythrindael did not comprehend much of the text describing the ritual, she was able to understand that this was a ritual for permanently boosting one’s magical power.

Not wanting to waste any more time, the young Elf prepared a magical circle right there in the sealed library, following instructions and diagrams in the tome. Many of the directions were illegible to her so she gave her best guess. Other segments were so confusing or encrypted that Wythrindael simply ignored them. As long as the final result looked as close to the pictures as possible, she told herself, everything had to turn out just fine. It may be risky but any risk was worth it if she could master sorcery and win the favor of her House and family again.

At last, the circle was complete (more or less). Standing in its center, Wythrindael began reciting the incantation directly from the book. The words were hard to pronounce and in many stanzas she had no idea what she was saying. But she nonetheless spoke the words with strength and conviction, wishing with all her heart that this would work. It was not long before she heard a keening in the wind, growing in intensity as she chanted. A tremor began to shift the floor beneath and the glamoured torchlight started flickering and shifting colors. Wythrindael felt a power surging within her and her excitement grew. She hastened through the remainder of the spell, wanting to reach its conclusion and feel the magical gift take root within her…

The next thing that Wythrindael remembered was being dragged out from beneath a charred and collapsed shelf. The vault was black with char and ash and the stone walls around her were cracked and misshapen. A few flames still burned in the corner, dancing in unnatural hues of scarlet, white, and violet. Smoke hung over the ceiling, occasionally forming into strange shapes and patterns before reducing itself to wisps once more. Wynthrindael realized that besides the destruction around her, she had changed physically. She had lost a half foot of height, her night black hair had turned a fiery red, and her pale skin had taken on a more ruddy tone.

Her family was (not surprising) furious at the damage Wythrindael had wrought and the loss of so much irreplaceable knowledge. Ashamed, the young elf maiden admitted what she had hoped to accomplish and then sought to cast a simple spell to prove that it had worked. She tried for a simple light spell and conjured a pair of butterflies made of golden fire. The small creatures, glowing brightly, fluttered from Wythrindael’s hands and into the air where they burst in a pleasant cascade of rainbow colors. The elves of Majestros House were at first surprised then guardedly hopeful. Perhaps something could be salvaged from their wayward daughter’s recklessness.

Wythrindael’s lessons resumed…but it quickly became apparent that whatever magic she had gained was not ‘true’ wizardry. She continued to struggle with actual spells, only succeeding in producing something close to the desired effect about half the time. The rest of the time she was succeed but the spell effect would be odd, such as casting a basic levitation spell and having two dozen small pixies appears to hoist her up….or summoning a small flame, which would be bright green in color and give off smoke that smelled of strawberries….or throwing a simple messaging spell only to have her voice sound like a gruff male speaking Dwarvish. Her family realized that Wythrindael was not practicing real magic but was directly manipulating the Flow. This was confirmed when she suffered her first Wild Surge and accidentally turned her instructor into an owlbear.

The Majestros Elves were horrified. If proper magic was akin to woodcarving, Wythrindael’s sorcery was like banging chunks of wood together in the hopes of the right shape somehow showing up. And if you struck poorly, something would break and splinter. This ‘tainted’ magic was almost worse than no magic and Wythrindael’s family made certain that she knew it. If she simply had had no aptitude, they could have just hidden her away as a quiet embarrassment…but how would they be expected to hide this level of chaos?

Wythrindael found herself banished from Majestros lands and told not to return to Pasion until she had her dangerously unstable sorcery under control or cured. She was advised to leave the Elven kingdom and travel to the Human realms where she could do little damage. The young girl’s heart broke to leave her home and family, hard as they could be to her, but she also felt she could not disobey. She packed up her few belongings along with money and supplies from her family and departed her homeland. She did not dally in Pasion long but (following her instructions) traveled to Demoria. The Demorians were said to have no meager talent in the arcane arts and Wythrindael hoped to find someone to help her master her insane magecraft. She eventually found herself in Warford.

For a while, Wythrindael (who had changed her name to the shortened and slightly altered version that she felt was easier for Humans and blurred her connection to the Majestros House) was at loose ends in Warford. She had no real skills other than a long schooling in arcane lore. While she was very intelligent, she was never particularly strong or hardy…and there did not seem to be much need for a pretty elf girl with no skills but some unpredictable magic (of which she rarely spoke of). Finally, she was able to find work with a local sage and hedge wizard named Hugo Eldamoth, a older Human who needed help around his library. Wythri helped organize and tidy up the man’s house and shop…and after a short while, Eldamoth began sharing some of his lore knowledge with the Elf. Within a few months, Wythri was helping answer questions and research tricky problems with her mentor.

Eldamoth even started trying to help Wythri learn more about her magic. The elder sage had heard of Wild Magic and taught Wythri everything he knew. She would practice very minor magics under his tutelage, though with each Surge she would lose confidence again. Eldamoth was nothing if not encouraging and patient and he never failed to lift her spirits and get her practicing again. He could tell that the girl had a vast potential for magic. Perhaps not traditional magic but he never doubted that she would become a powerful spellcaster in the years to come. His gentle confidence and support – a far cry from the frustration and shame she met with back home – made Wythri believe that she just might become the magician she dreamed of growing into.

After a few years in Warford, Eldamoth learned of the growing township of Foxton near the Platinum Hills. He decided that a change in scenery and a more rustic setting might be enjoyable so he and Wythri packed up the library and traveled up the Pilgrims’ Trail to the small city. Eldamoth fell in love with the town immediately and used the money he had saved up to purchase a small home on the outskirts – one which he and Wythri renovated to include a new library and magical workshop.

Business was slow at first but picked up as Eldamoth began making friends and contacts with the townsfolk – as well as establishing a good reputation (and something of a formal friendship) with the Lord Mayor. The sage’s reputation as an extremely knowledgeable scholar, a reliable minor mage, and a generally good man grew swiftly. Wythri kept to the sidelines, acting as Eldamoth’s assistant, but she was recognizable as old Eldamoth’s pretty Elven apprentice, who was always at the man’s elbow when he needed her.

Then – after about three years in Foxton – Eldamoth caught a frightful illness while out harvesting herbs for his potions. He suffered violent wracking coughs, searing fevers, and a physical weakness that seemed to eat him from the inside. Wythri never left his side, tending to him as best she could. Though Eldamoth came very close to death several times over his weeks of sickness, he survived and eventually recovered thanks to the ministrations of the local priests and especially of Wythri. Sadly, since he was an aged man, he was never able to fully recover physically. His strength and endurance was greatly diminished, leaving him drained and weak and unable to spend more than a couple hours a day outside of bed. He was forced to give up his meager magic since he had neither the energy nor the mental focus to cast spells anymore. Painful coughs would continue to bother him, especially if the air was too wet or too dry or too dusty or what not.

The man’s mind and memory was still as keen as ever, though, and he resumed his work as a sage for the town. Unfortunately, his weakness meant that turnaround for information was taking longer. Wythri began taking up more and more of the business, developing – to her surprise and delight – her own reputation for being a storehouse of knowledge. She still consulted Eldamoth when she needed to (and when his rest could be interrupted) but could usually rely on his impressive collection of books. She even began using a bit of her Wild Magic when it was really needed, though she tried not to use it for frivolous requests.

Now, just over a year after Eldamoth’s illness, Wythri continues work as a young sage and researcher. She is known to be reliable and thorough in her research and has lately begun delving into mercantile fields. Only a few townsfolk (including the Lord Mayor) are aware of her magical talents but those people know her to have no small amount of power at her disposal. So far, Wythri had been fortunate enough not to have suffered a public Wild Surge and is very careful to keep that possibility a secret. In the meantime, she combs the old texts in her mentor’s collection, hoping to find some tidbit of lore that will either ‘cure’ her of her tainted magic or give her the measure of control she needs to return to her beloved homeland at last.

Personality: Wythri is a kind-hearted and good-natured Elf who has not allowed the troubles in her life to completely discourage her. Though fate has cast a number of obstacles in her path, she maintains a confidence (mostly thanks to Hugo Eldamoth) that eventually things will turn out right in the end. She is generally quite optimistic and cheerful and gets along well with most people. She enjoys the opportunity to use her skills to help people out, offering her services less for coin and more for a sincere thanks.

Wythri cares very deeply for her Human mentor Hugo Eldamoth and continues to tend to him when he needs her. She thinks of him as a benevolent father figure and would do anything for him. She is one of the few people who address him by his first name.

Like many Elves, Wythri does feel that life is meant to be enjoyed and maintains some of the hedonistic tendencies of her race. However, life among Demorian Humans, especially with the simple moral ways of Eldamoth, have taught her to temper her natural tendencies out of respect to the local culture. Thus, she enjoys casual dalliances with some local boys but is not promiscuous. She likes going out to party but only after her work and chores are done. In other words, Wythri takes advantage of life’s pleasures but understands when doing so is appropriate.

If there is one aspect of her life that causes her any amount of stress, it is her Wild Magic gift. Because the library at the Majestros manor was destroyed during her ritual, no one knows what spell she cast to grant her this sorcery. Wythri is terrified that she might (at best) continue to bring shame to her family with her ‘tainted’ magic or (at worst) be the cause of some further act of destruction. Thus, she is quietly obsessed with finding some way to either transform her Wild Magic into true Wizardry…or grant her the power without any of the dangerous side effects. So strong is this desire that she has been known to be foolhardy in her pursuit of this goal.

In addition, as she has begun using her Wild Magic more often, even in little ways, the power has started affecting her mind. Like many Wild Mages, Wythri’s personality and emotions can be extremely erratic, most often after casting Wild Magic spells. She has managed to keep this a secret for now in Foxton. She knows Eldamoth is aware of her Wild Magic and the potential effects but she trusts him. A few months ago, she had used her magic to chase off a small pack of mountain wolves who had ventured down in search of easy prey. Shortly afterwards, Eldamoth was forced to track her down in the forest because she had suddenly decided she was a Druidic squirrel. Wythri is greatly embarrassed by her erratic mindset but cannot really control it. The more magic she uses, the more unhinged she seems to become.

Wythri Majaera

The Chronicles of Foxton Lonewalker