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Aere's Intro Here. 83

[Name] Aerestian
[Age] 9233
[Gender] Male
[Species] Aisha
[Color] Christmas
[Owner] Maught
[Eyes] Emerald
[Level] 1

[Status] Single; looking opportunistically.
[Personality] Kind, protective, righteous (sometimes overly so), introverted, quiet.
[Bio] Aere is a solitary aisha, living almost entirely alone, aside from his petpets. He prefers it that way, although he welcomes visitors graciously and has been known to retain guests for as much as a year. Few stay with him for long, though. While most grow bored of the quiet serenity of his remote grove, he revels in it. He dreams of a day when he will meet a woman that shares his love of winter, and of solitude. He is responsible and courageous, having been forced to defend his grove from all manner of monsters that wander up from the Haunted Woods.

Ref here soon, yes? 83

[Fur] Warm brown with darker "socks". Golden-brown rings on tail, hands & feet, and ears. Golden stars clustered at paws, tail, and ears. Gold tips and rings on ear-stalk ears. Gold embellishment over right eye.
[Eyes] Emerald green
[Hair] Darker brown than fur, shaggy to shoulders. Bangs hang to just below eyebrows. Often pulled back into a small, low ponytail.
[Stature] A little on the short side, slender but solid.
[Voice] Tenor, bit of a Northern burr in his accent.
[Style] Thick green collar w/golden bell on front. Sometimes wears a thick white scarf with green and red tassels. Leather breeches and fur boots, long fur coat/cloak.
[Other] Takn marking on left cheek. Small, dark brown antlers.

[Fur] Warm brown with darker "socks". Golden-brown rings on tail, paws, and ears. Golden stars clustered at paws, tail, and ears. Gold tips and rings on ear-stalk ears. Gold embellishment over right eye.
[Eyes] Emerald green
[Other] Bears the tákn on his right shoulder. Small, dark brown antlers. Wears a thick green collar w/gold bell. Sometimes wears a thick white scarf with red and green tassels.

Loves
Christmas
Snow
Tea
Snowberries
Petpets
Good Books
Quietude
Music
Kindness

Hates
Cruelty
Warm Climates
Faeries
Petpetpets
Sticky Things
Mold
Cilantro
Pirates

Secrets
Knitting (not very manly...)
Gardening (in an icy wasteland?!)
His father (lab pet)
Swimming (he can't)

My name is Aere. I was born Aerestian Uht-Slydda, to Hvíta and Antony Uht-Slydda. I am the Guardian of Ískaldur, the Sacred Grove. I am also the last surviving member of the Tribe of Ísing.

Since the gods first touched the world with their hands and left their fingerprints on Neopia, Ískaldur has been there. It is the Sacred Grove, the forest of evergreens where Jól, the Child God, takes his sleep every four thousand years.

As long as Ískaldur has been, so has there been the Tribe of Ísing. When Jól created Ískaldur, he created Ísing to watch over it, and prepare it for his slumber. Before Jól gave his earthly body in sacrifice to earn the innocence of all Neopian children and condemned himself to forever roam Neopia in spirit, he cast a mark, the tákn, into the bloodlines of Ísing, to signal the chosen Guardian of the grove.

Before "Christmas", there was Jól, a sacred day in honor of the Child God's sacrifice. It was a day of gratitude and respect, but it was also something more. It was a day steeped in fate and magic.

However, four thousand years is a long time. Jól himself has become a legend, even among the people of Ísing. The Tribe had become arrogant and lax in their duty; it had been a hundred years and more since the last Guardian was born. He had died twenty years before my parents met, and the birth of the next Guardian was eagerly awaited among the high-ranking families of Ísing.

Hvíta, my mother, was a low-ranking daughter of a high-ranking family. The 14th of her father's 16 children, and the youngest daughter, she merited little regard. Her best hope was to marry up in one of the other noble families, though there was little chance of that. Hvíta means "white" in our language, and it fit her well. My mother was an albino, looked down upon by the people of Ísing as a mark of the gods' displeasure. My mother was kept out of sight, and presumably out of mind, for all of her youth.

For all that, Hvíta Slydda was a beautiful Ixi. All the people of Ísing are Ixis. They believe Jól was an Ixi, when he had a body of his own. And no, you are not mistaken; I am an Aisha, not an Ixi.

My mother was not only beautiful, but she had a lovely singing voice and was an excellent harpist. She entertained herself throughout her youth by playing and singing, mostly the traditional songs passed down since the birth of Ísing. I was told her father often called for her to play for him when he was worried or sick. For all that my mother was an abomination, I think her father loved her very much.

My grandmother, however, died when my mother was but eleven years old. It was said she was struck down by the grippe, but my mother suspected her father's next wife, his fourth, of having a hand in it. This wife gave my grandfather only one child, and lorded over the household behind his back, making life particularly miserable for my mother. Mother said it was because she looked like my grandmother.

After five years under her stepmother's thumb, my mother was 16; old enough to leave the house. This she did promptly, making her home in a small house at the base of a mountain, near the outskirts of the Ísing village.

My father was a wanderer. He was not born into the Ísing, but was native to Terror Mountain. He had heard of Ískaldur, and was shocked and overjoyed when he stumbled upon it. No one has ever "stumbled upon" the Sacred Grove, however, so I think the hand of Jól was upon him.

Like my mother, I was an abomination. An aisha, born to the prestigious Slydda family?! And bearing the tákn, no less! The Ísing hated my mother and I, and my father, who went back to wandering when I was four.

My mother took me to visit her family once a year. It was awful. My grandfather was the only one glad to see us. Mother's only full brother, my uncle Lirvye, died mysteriously just after I was born. I think it was to prevent the birth of another abomination.

Everyone else in the household had grown as bitter and spiteful as my step-grandmother. Betimes my mother would sit and talk with her half-sisters, and I would be left to play with my cousins. They were angry and hateful. When she asked about my bruises and scrapes, I told mother that I had tripped. She began to suspect, I think, for after a few years I was not left with my cousins anymore.

As for my tákn, it was ignored vehemently. The Slydda family put forth one of my cousins, a son of my mother's third-eldest brother, as the chosen Guardian. His name was Utkya, and he was trained by the Tribe elders to be the next Guardian. I didn't mind so much, but he was very nasty about it and my mother got very tight-lipped whenever her family gloated about Utkya. She would tell me often, "Aere, love, when everything comes crashing down, remember that you bear the tákn."

Sometimes I wonder if my mother knew something of what was to come. It was rumored that albinos of the Ísing sometimes had the Sight. Perhaps Hvíta Slydda had a touch of it, though she never spoke of it if she did. In any case, three years after my mother died of pneumonia when I was 17, everything did come crashing down.

I was 20 years old at the time, and living on my own in the house my mother raised me in. She was three years dead and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of my father in over a decade. I was still the Tribe's abomination, and everyone took any opportunity to disgrace me. I was tripped, pushed into mud, forgotten, ignored, ridiculed, and insulted. Utkya, especially, went out of his way to make my life more difficult. I think it bothered him that I, his lowly cousin, bore the tákn, and he, the chosen Guardian, did not.

Despite the hostilities of my people, however, I could not hate them, and I found myself relatively happy. I was content. I had no need to be flaunted about as Jól's Chosen. I bore the tákn, whatever my family pretended, and if Jól needed me he would let me know somehow. I was sure of it.

So it was. On one of my infrequent journeys into the village proper to purchase necessities, I sensed something was not quite right. The streets were empty, save for a few lone figures who hurried on their ways fearfully when they caught sight of me. In a village that was usually bustling, it was definitely unnerving. I soon forgot my grovery needs and went looking for answers instead.

I knocked on the door of a nearby building, one of the lower-ranking homes. After nearly a minute of nothing, the door silently opened an inch or two to reveal the terrified eyes of a trembling ixi, his breathing panicky. I was immediately alarmed and on my guard.

Gods protect you, young Aerestian. Come in, quickly. No-one deserves to be left outside in these dangerous streets," he said breathily, his eyes scouring the streets as he opened the door just far enough to allow me to squeeze through. I did so, and stood near the door as my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. The family had covered all the windows, and the fireplace held no roaring fire, as they usually did in the village. When I could see, I gazed around the large room. A mother ixi was huddled in a corner with her two children, a blanket covering them. She was praying silently, her lips moving as frightened eyes stared right through me. I turned to the ixi who had let me in, the woman's husband, presumably. "What on earth has happened here?" I asked worriedly.

The ixi sighed wearily, the tense fear in his face making him look older. "Sit down, please. Selene, get him something to drink, please." An old ixi I had not noticed before moved out of the shadows and hobbled to a different room, reappearing moments later to press a mug of warm milk into my hands. She looked up into my eyes hopefully, a pleading look on her face. "You bear the tákn," she whispered. "I am not so young and arrogant as the fools who spat at your feet. Please, Guardian, save us." I was a bit taken aback, but I patted her gnarled hands comfortingly. "I will do my best, old one," I replied. "Now, tell me why our people cower in fear in their own homes."

The male ixi nodded and took a deep breath to begin. "Not three days ago, the Elder Council announced that Utkya, your cousin, was nearly ready to take the title of Guardian. They said he has but one challenge to overcome. The villagers were overjoyed, and cheered for him as he entered the Hall of Elders with the Council to complete his last task. No-one else was allowed in.

After two days had passed and neither Utkya nor the Council had emerged, the Tribe grew worried and elected a group to enter the Hall to find out what was taking so long." The ixi let out a shuddering sigh and paused, eyes closed, before continuing.

They found the Council dead, brutally slaughtered by an inhuman hand, their bodies mangled. By the puddles of dried blood around them, it was obvious the Elders had died soon after they entered the Hall. Minutes after. Fearing the worst for the Guardian, the group followed a trail of gore to a prayer room, where they found Utkya and one of the Elders. Old Pavcik was dead, and Utkya was...changed. The sole survivor of the group that went in, he said that Utkya was darker, with terrible white eyes that weren't his and blood on his hands and mouth. That was just before he died. The survivor, that is. He came out scared witless with not a scratch on him, and then he just stopped breathing."

The ixi stopped and closed his eyes, his front teeth sunk deep into his lower lip. When he opened his eyes, they were full of horror and grief. "Utkya hasn't come out, but everyone who goes in stays there. All the villagers are terrified. If you value your life, Aere, go back to your home. As far away as it is, you might escape the notice of the monster Utkya has become."

I was quiet for a long while, sending a silent prayer to Jól for help, if he could give it. After a while, the male ixi got yp and went to comfort his family, his hands trembling very slightly as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

After another moment or two of silent speculation, I got to my feet and went to the door. Just before I slipped outside, I turned to the family. "Stay here. Don't go outside until I come back to get you," I said, giving them a smile as reassuring as I could make it.

Once outside, I gazed around for a time, simply observing. Anyone who had been outside previously was now inside, probably for the better. I strode off down the center of the street, the crunch of my footsteps on last night's snow the only sound. I headed for the Hall of Elders.

I was not quite there when I realized someone was walking behind me, a few yards back. I didn't need to turn and look; I knew immediately who it was by the way my spine tingled and a chill tickled the back of my neck. I fought the instinct to turn around, to protect my exposed back. He must have gained enough strength to leave the Hall and roam further away. I stopped walking and tried to relax as I called him by name. "Utkya."

The word seemed to hang in the air between us. I almost heard the monster smirk. "That name holds no power over me, son-of-Jól. Your cousin seems to have heard you, however."

I turned then, incredulous. The voice that had answered me was not that of my cousin. It was alien and distorted, sounding both high and scared, but also overlaid with a low, dark, smug voice. The creature before me was even more disturbing.

Utkya's normally brown eyes were white, the whites a shade of crimson so dark as to seem black. His body was blurred and shadowy, as though seen through smoke or a dark film, the edges of which trailed off of him like tendrils of hair. He moved with a weird sense of being broken, as though his body was dead while his spirit continued to use it. The menacing leer that split his features completed the image. I was shocked into silence.

Do you know me, son-of-Jól?" the monster asked, his head listing over to one side. I swallowed my fear with difficulty, wishing I didn't. My mother had told em the stories. I had thought them just that, but now he stood before me, exactly the way he had been described.

You are the Night Man," I replied, my voice soundinh strange to my own ears. The creature laughed, a harsh choking noise that was eerie when overlaid with Utkya's sob.

Yes, son-of-Jól," he said. "I am Krezchstyr, the Night Man as you fools call me. And do you know why I am here?" He grinned wider, displaying sharp fangs that did not and never had belonged to Utkya.

I had to start speaking twice; the first time I could get no sound out. "You have been called," I finally whispered. "And you are here to slaughter us all."

The monster nodded and cackled its bone-chilling laugh, moving faster than I could react. It skittered forward with its broken-marionette movements, one arm striking at my head with deadly claws I had never seen on my cousin's hands. I was frozen with panic as pain exploded in the side of my head, sending me to my knees. Oblivion threatened to overtake my vision, hovering at the corners of my eyes. The monster's laughter faded, leaving only Utkya's tortured screams and frightened sobs to ring in my ears before I was swept down, down, down into darkness deeper than any sleep.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I awoke, I was lying in the snow, my cheek nearly frozen where it touched the ground. I was covered in a thin layer of icy flakes, evidence that I had been here for a while. As I pushed myself up to my knees, a wave of pain washed over me, closely followed by nausea. I shivered as I delicately probed the hardened blood on the side of my head. I remembered then, and I cried for my people. I didn't need to check. They were all dead. If I concentrated, I could smell death and blood all around me. They were dead, Utkya too, and the Night Man was gone. The village didn't feel dangerous anymore, just sad. Sad, lonely, and empty. I tried not to think of the kind family that had offered me shelter, of the praying mother and her terrified children. Of the old ixi woman who had begged me for help. Who had believed in me as no-one had since my mother passed away.

I was angry then, angry that no-one had been there to help. Surely many of the Tribe had prayed for help, for protection, but neither Jól nor any of the faeries had answered their call. All alone in the village of the dead, I raged at the powers that be for failing us. Most of all, I raged because they had left me alive.

When I ran out of energy and passion, I made my way to a house and huddled under the eaves. I didn't dare enter yet, until I was well-rested. In the morning, I would begin work on a funeral pyre. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted by grief and fury.

I did not sleep well. My dreams were haunted by the faces of the villagers, their hands reaching out to me for help, their voices pleading with me to save them. They were long dead, but I could do nothing to soothe their fears.

The following days were filled with loneliness and grief. I built a pyre in the middle of the village and began retrieving bodies from the houses. Some had almost been friends, others I didn't recognize at all. I cried for some, like the children. I gave up trying to sleep at night and spent my time cleaning the houses I had emptied. One by one, each house was emptied, cleaned, and closed up. I made sure to cover the windows and chimneys, so that animals wouldn't get in.

Finally, a month later, I burned my tribe. As the flames roared and hissed around the bodies of the villagers, I vowed never to return to the village of Ísing until I was a Guardian with the power to protect it.

A week later, I began my journey. After packing only the necessities from my home at the outskirts of Ísing, I set out to find the Sacred Grove itself.

The Sacred Grove is hidden and protected by the powerful magics of Jól. Though the Tribe of Ísing live in the valley of Ískaldur, very few have come close to seeing Ískaldur itself. Only the Guardians have ever been allowed into it.

Having never been educated in the history or practices of Guardians, I was clueless as to how to find Jól's garden. I had heard my mother's stories, though. Following the half-baked advice of myths, I made my way deeper into the valley than I had ever been. The snow here was deeper than I was tall, and I was glad for the snowshoes my mother had left me.

After what seemed like weeks of fumbling about in the snow, I hit bare rock. The skeleton of the mountains had risen to the surface, bare of any covering. It was easier to traverse, but much colder. However, a few days more and I didn't have to worry about cold any longer.

I was frozen to the bone, struggling against wind and falling ice, when I found the Grove. It took my breath away, the way it seemed to just appear before me. The deep green of the trees stretched away from me to the base of the mountains at the end of the valley, protected from the snow. The bliuzzard seemed to part around an invisible globe that encompassed the trees. I was speechless as I entered, brushing my hands gently along the boughs of the evergreens. The felt strangely warm to the touch, and seemed to brush back, almost as though welcoming a friend.

It was only slightly warmer in the Grove, most likely due to the lack of wind. The stillness and quiet was soothing. I thought frequently that the trees were whispering to me, reassuring me. It felt familiar and right.

At the center of the Grove, I found a clearing, and a tree. It was a small tree, a bit bigger than what most Neopians put in their homes. I approached it curiously, drawn on by something most peculiar. The tree was glowing with the colored lights of a hundred or more small orbs, resting in the branches. They were the right size to cup in my hand, if I had been so inclined. They shone with a beautiful and delicate light, prompting me to gently brush one with a fingertip.

Quite suddenly, the whispering of the trees became more distinct and less like a dream. I could almost catch snatches of what might have been words. At the same time, a voice filled my ears. It was deep and strong and rich, calling up an image that I had seen only in the few portraits in the cillage: Ordrik, the last Guardian.

We've been long awaiting you, young one. You have been delayed, I think."

Y-yes," I replied out loud, startled. "My people have been murdered by...by a monster."

The voice was quiet for a time, radiating sympathy somehow. "That is unhappy news. We are sorry for you," it finally said quietly. "But you are here now, as you should be, and you must learn quickly to make up losttime. In each of these orbs rests the memory of a Guardian. From us, you will learn the skills and duties required of you. Are you willing?"

Yes," I whispered again. And so my training began. It was difficult, but wonderful. The Guardians were kind and encouraging, and I felt I belonged here with them, with those who shared my destiny. In the solitude of the Grove, their company began to repair the hole ripped in my heart by the Night Man's attack. Weeks became months, filled with the history of the Grove and its Guardians, as well as the magic necessary to protect and maintain it. I learned swiftly, propelled by the thought of finally taking my place in life.

I spent my nights in a small cabin that was hidden among the trees, my slumber restored by the peace that the Grove bestowed. Sometimes I imagined the trees were singing me to sleep, their lullabies the whisper and rustle of boughs moving against each other. I heated my cabin with the bare fire of magic, without wood, and the Grove provided me with food. Whenever I had need of it, there was game to be hunted, or wild plants to be gathered. It wasn't easy, but the Grove kept me safe and healthy.

It seems impossible to think such time had passed so quickly, but a year later I approached the Guardian tree to recieve my lessons, and I recieved something new. I was informed by Joria, the 15th Guardian, that I had recieved a turning point in my education. Her voice was warm and grandmotherly as she told me I was to recieve a companion, to aid in my magic. A week later, while I was out hunting, I noticed a small creature huddled at the base of a tree.

She was a furry little thing, but she shivered so that I worried she might be sick. She was of the hooved species, though I had never seen anyhing quite like her before. She was about the size of a small dog, her legs short and stocky. Her face with slender and graceful, despite her solid build, and her horns swept over her head majestically. Her eyes were soft and brown, and she looked tired. It took a few minutes to convince her that she was safe, but I eventually gathered her into my arms and carried her home. She took an immediate liking to me and took to following me everywhere. I was afraid she would freeze, but she seemed to grow accustomed to the cold, and her fur grew in thicker to help her stay warm. She kept me company, and I named her Firthen, meaning "snowball" in the language of Ísing.

Since then, I have continued my studies. It appears I have some considerable skill for magic, and the Guardians have been pleased with my progress. I lead a happy, if lonely, life. Firthen keeps me company. However, my heart longs for the warmth and comfort of my Tribe. I know I can never undo the slaughter that the Night Man wreaked, but I continue to hope that someday, somehow, people will return to the village. And I, Aerestian Uht-Slydda, Guardian of the Sacred Grove, will be there to protect them.

Elhau
Elhau is a lupe and a kindred spirit. He's a guardian also, though he guards dreams and the worlds outside reality. I don't completely understand it, but I do understand Elhau. We get along well.

Lucafin
Luca is a bit of an odd bird of a lupe. He spends all his time alone in the mountains, composing music. I sort of like him, though; he's very relaxed and calming. And his music is great! He's good company for those who don't mind silent companionship.

Raughtten
Rau is a demon; plain and simple. She's an acara of course, but she's also an ancient evil of Neopia, and delights in terror, violence, and destruction. Plus, she devours innocent souls to sustain herself. Neopia would be better off without her, but alas, I was tricked into vowing to do no harm to her myself. It's the only reason I haven't tried to exorcise her yet.

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1. Do NOT remove my name from these adoptables.
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4. These adoptables stay on Neopets. Period.
5. Do NOT use a custom adoptable if it wasn't made for you.
6. These are NOT makeables. End of story.
7. Neomail me with the subject "Aere's Adoptables" to request a custom. You MUST provide a clear ref or a very detailed description. I will add wings, and accessories up to a point. No ridiculously difficult designs. DX
8. Last Rule: Check the waiting list to make sure a slot is open before you neomail me.

Waiting List
1. Aprim for pieieieie
2. Madd (_madhatter_) for Vivi
3. Menotari for Maiinoki
4. Open
5. Open

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