The Eilorn Council of Faladrim

“Order is our light. Tradition, our anchor. May neither waver, lest the world itself unravel.” — Inscription above the Council Chambers of Naath

📜 Overview

The Eilorn Elven Council stands as the governing heart of Naath, and by extension, much of Faladrim. It is an institution as ancient as the Vermosa Trees that cradle the city — a conclave where politics, magic, and faith intertwine until none can tell where one ends and another begins. The Council embodies the Eilorn philosophy that magic must be governed, lest it devour the world that birthed it.

Composed of noble houses, scholars, and emissaries, the Council’s members hold their positions not merely by lineage but by mastery of the arcane and adherence to the elven doctrine of restraint. The halls of Naath are filled with their decrees — each spell catalogued, each ritual authorized, each secret weighed against the stability of the realm. Yet beneath the marble calm, Faladrim trembles with the quiet tension of a people who have traded wonder for control.

🕯️ Leadership

Lord Galadon, Ruler of Faladrim
Elegant, unreadable, and endlessly patient, Lord Galadon is both statesman and sorcerer — a strategist who moves through centuries as others move through seasons. Born of the high line of Eilorn, his rise to the Council’s throne was all but inevitable. What few suspect is how far his influence extends beyond Faladrim’s borders. His private correspondence with Tharivol Dennistein of the Eldertree Gateway hints at a quiet alliance — and a dangerous exchange of forbidden research concerning planar interference and “dimensional bleed.”
Whispers claim Galadon foresaw the Cursed Storm of Navar Forest, and rather than confront it, diverted its force toward another continent. Naath was spared, but the Realm of the Ancient Ones was damned. None within the Council speak of this, yet every member knows.

Lady Elanor, Keeper of the Fountain
If Galadon is the will of the Council, Lady Elanor is its conscience — or perhaps its memory. As guardian of Naath’s sacred Fountain, she presides over a wellspring said to mirror the flow of magic itself. To gaze upon its waters is to glimpse the fate of one’s soul, and Elanor alone may interpret what she sees there. Her centuries of service have made her both revered and feared; it is said she remembers every lie told before the Council, and carries those secrets like stones around her heart.
Her alliance with Ayred Felina, the royal seer, is one of quiet necessity. Between her waters and his stars, they seek to understand the cracks forming in Faladrim’s fabric — cracks the Council dares not acknowledge.

Ayred Felina, Royal Researcher and Astral Seer
Born beneath a rare celestial alignment, Ayred Felina lives half in the sky and half in the shadow it casts. His observatory rises above Naath’s highest branch, a tower of glass and silver vines from which he charts the patterns of the heavens. When his instruments first registered distortions — stars stuttering, constellations shifting out of rhythm — he warned the Council that “something vast and sentient” was bending time itself.
His warning went unheeded. Now he and Elanor quietly document anomalies while feigning loyalty to Galadon’s decrees. To Ayred, the Convergence is not coming — it is already here, disguised as the steady hum of the Fountain below and the silent flicker of stars above.

🕸️ The Eilorn Doctrine

The Council’s official creed holds that Necromancy is the root of all corruption. To them, death is sacred — to trespass upon it is to invite the decay that once nearly consumed Faladrim in the forgotten Era of Withering Souls. By Lord Galadon’s command, the practice was outlawed and its practitioners hunted. The condemned were executed in secret and buried deep beneath Naath in the Eylan Tunnels — a network of catacombs that doubles as a sanctum for the Council’s less public dealings.

At the tunnels’ heart lies the Necromancer’s Graveyard, a place of shame sealed behind runic gates and silent sentinels. The Council insists the site is merely a resting place for the condemned, but travelers speak of the air thick with whispers and roots that bleed. Among these cursed graves has arisen a horror of the Council’s own making — the Corpse Flower, a monstrous bloom that feeds upon death itself. It now tends the graveyard like a gardener of the damned, and though the Council denies all connection, many suspect its existence is the price of their hypocrisy.

⚖️ The Convergence Connection

Faladrim’s scholars claim the Convergence — the cosmic bleed between worlds — began beyond their borders. But buried within the Hall of Threads is a forbidden record: Ayred Felina’s original calculations proving that Naath was once the storm’s epicenter. The Council’s greatest “victory” — the deflection of the Cursed Storm — was no act of mercy, but of self-preservation. The very ritual that saved Faladrim may have anchored the Convergence elsewhere, condemning the Realm of the Ancient Ones to its fate.

Now, faint distortions ripple through Faladrim once more. Spells fail without reason. Dreams repeat like broken reels. In the depths of the Fountain, Lady Elanor sees reflections that no longer match reality. The Eilorn Council preaches stability while standing atop the faultline of creation itself.

🪞 In the Words of a Scholar (Extract from “The Roots Remember” by Archmage Kelion Tarev)

“The Council claims to guard Faladrim from chaos, yet it is chaos that sustains them. For every law they write, a secret festers beneath it. For every necromancer they condemn, they plant another seed in the grave they swore to guard.
Naath glows brightest before the dusk — and if the Convergence returns, it will find fertile ground among the roots of the Eilorn.”