ELN338: ★ Ivan 🌿 Lightbringer

He doesn't know when, but at some point before his first memories, Ivan was separated from the family of his birth. Instead of being raised among the gentleness of springtime, he was spirited away by harsh winter winds and swallowed whole by the storm. It was the guardian priests and priestesses of Strynhalde's elder tree that found him, nestled there among the roots; perhaps some snowbound spirit had taken pity on the little kittom, dropping him somewhere it knew he would be found?

With no other family to claim him, the guardians of the elder tree's temple bestowed upon him the surname of "Wintifir"- in honor of the elder tree that sheltered him, however briefly. They adopted him as one of their own, raising him within the temple, and taught him their way of life. Before he had even grown, Ivan could recite the elder tree's prayers and perform the temple rites with perfect accuracy.

But... was that all there was to life?

Although he was grateful for the elder tree's blessings and the love of the priests and priestesses that had so carefully raised him, he couldn't help but feel that his calling lay somewhere else. Somewhere out there, beyond the snow-tipped spires of Strynhalde's horizon. It's said that all elder trees spring from the roots of Yggdrasil- that they are all one great, connected organism. It made sense to Ivan, then, that the world of Eyre is more connected than people say. That a kindness done outside of his temple, outside of Strynhalde, is in its own way honoring the elder tree that had sheltered and blessed him for so long. He heard stories sometimes, from elnins who would stop in Iorumund as they made their way south to Ealei. Stories of suffering, of fear, of pain- stories about a world that needed a hero.

And then... He was outside, sweeping the snow from the elder tree's roots. A voice from the great tree's highest branches called to him, soft as snowfall; then a gust of frigid wind blew past him and away from the shrine, ruffling and tugging at his fur as though it wanted to pull him along with it.

"Someone needs your help," it seemed to say, "Go."

This was the sign that Ivan had been waiting for his entire life. Against the protests and warnings of his guardians, he packed up what few possessions he had, and left the shrine of Strynhalde's elder tree behind. He would begin his journey by going south, crossing the ocean to Ealei, and from there he would begin his search. He didn't know who needed his help- whatever spirit had spoken to him from the boughs above didn't exactly specify. The only thing to do, then, would be to help everyone that he possibly could. If he kept that up, then surely someday he would find and help that "someone" who so desperately needed him.

There's only so much that one elnin can do, with a mere Villager rank no less, but Ivan still carries out his mission with the dedication and seriousness of a trained champion. He's not fighting daeva, though- his battle is quieter, softer, like the snowtouched voice that bid him on this journey to begin with. Somehow, Ivan always seems to appear where and when he's needed most, with a helping paw, a strong back, and a shoulder to cry on. Eyre's troubles are not limited to its monsters and miasma; the small battles matter, too. Against the quiet pull of loneliness and fear, Ivan stands strong. His back to those who he would protect, his eyes forward and full of hope, no matter what the odds may be. After all...

Hope does not abandon its champions.