Eros Mokin Agasan - Characters

Eros Mokin Agasan is a high elf of Silvanesti and grew up in its forested borders. He was a son of a cobbler and along with 3 older siblings, making his family huge in terms of high elves who usually have one or two children. The Agasan family enjoyed a simple life within the sheltered and recluse nation of Silvanseti, their father held high esteem in the upper classes despite his lowly trade, making the finest of shoes for even the royalty. This all ended when the dark queen’s armies invaded their lands, burned their homes and killed all in their way. The wise lord of Silvanesti ordered all of his people to retreat and abandon their homes, we at the time didnt know why but we all presumed the war was lost. That of course was the fateful day when the king would make his last stand against the army and save his land. That was also the day he brought untold ruin to the land itself, corrupting it to the point that not even the evil queen herself wanted it. Unfortunately the corruption didn't stop with the land as the corruption seized those who struggled to escape in time, Eros and his family included. The rot claimed many who were exposed within an hour, their flesh reddening and boiling like a thick stew. Then most died the day after, Eros’s mother included. The other Silvanesti elves had long abandoned the infected in fear it was infectious, though it proved to not to be. Most stricken with the rot gave into their fate but not their father. Spurred by the long forgotten myths of gods he went on a desperate search for the dragon's grove, said to carry the dawn flame which could heal any wound. Their father never returned with that flame, he never returned at all. As Eros and his family waited for their father, he watched one by one as the rot grew and devoured their flesh. One by one he had to bury them. Then he waited, alone, for the rot to take him to. He waited but death never came. It claimed more than half his body in red boils, all who got this far fell dead, but not Eros. Alone he scavenged from what the dead had left behind and left having no particular place in mind. With clothing and simple he hid his visage from the world searching for a purpose to fill the gap in heart, left by a family he no longer had. He would only learn later of the gifts he now possesses from the dark divine energy of the orb of dragon kind used to corrupt the land and his family.

Beyond DND Link

Eros and his Ghost

Kalaman

@Eros Mokin Agasan sat quietly in the small row boat for that is all he could do. Arni and the surviving member of the Iron legion were at the oars rowing them away from the now burning city. Eros despised how he couldn't remember the name of either, if he truly cared shouldn't he remember? The only other denizens of the small row boat were the unconscious lyric and DD along with another lone survivor who stared into his reflection in horror.

Eros held the green blade within its hilt in a too strong grip, which hurt more his withered fingers than the leather. His mind, unlike his body, was clear but not due to calmness but to burn out, like a fire leaving nothing but ash before it dies. His body had yet to catch up, he shivered, whimpered and cried pus, which his mask hid.

The memories of the battle still repeated in his mind with cold clarity. The exploding dragon men, the screams of countless people, a metal dragon and… and… running. Jumping into the water to save his own skin, the real hero was truly Arni. She put her life on the line to save everyone while he ran like a pitiful child. Now Donnie is dead, dead because he failed to save him, no, wouldn't save him. He cared more about keeping the remaining of his healing magic for himself than he did for someone who relied on him.

Living with his rotted visage for the past ten years, he always comforted himself with the thought that he may look evil on the outside, but he was pure and good on the inside. Today he couldn't tell himself this lie for what good man is a coward? What good man leaves his friend to burn and drown? Then after leaving him to die he had the audacity to loot his corps for the green blade? He sickened himself, he didn't even deserve to hold, let alone touch the blade of an honorable man such as Ispin Green Shield.

With still shivering hands, he placed the blade next to the still unconscious Lyric. Now Lyric, if anyone was worthy of a hero's blade it would be her, the kindest and most beautiful person he ever met. After getting the blade out of his hands and the remainder of his most recent sins, he sat quietly for the trip. In the quiet Eros made a promise to himself to never be a coward again and to be a man worthy of lyrics' affection.

Days later

Eros laid curled up under a table sobbing uncontrollably. Despite healing his wounds the phantom pain and trauma of his wounds filled his mind and worse they saw. They saw him, the real him. The rotting lying child, the burden. There was a part of him that was still aware, aware how the group tried to reach out to him and comfort him but he didn't want to be aware, he didn't want to exist.

Shadowing his face, his shameful truth, Eros made his way to the servant quarters of the estate and locked himself in the workshop. Within he tore his mask and clothes off in another fit of panic before falling to the ground and sobbing again. The mask, he needed to fix the mask. Looking around the workshop he found the appropriate tools and some wood and went to work. Eros’s father was a cobbler and taught Eros how to carve wood for soles. This was a lie he told himself. Eros was too young to be allowed in the workshop or around sharp objects in general, elves would still consider him too young. All Eros knew was from watching his father and brothers work.

Eros still did the best he could and set to work, for there wasn't really anything else to do. On the bench he worked was a mirror, cracked, probably set aside in here after recently cracking. Looking into its fractured reflection Eros didn't see his rotten visage, but his mask on. He saw himself in saintly rubes bathed in divine, this divine reflection stared down at Eros despite being eye level with him. This is what people wanted him to be, believed in. How can they do it? If they only knew what lay under the mask, they wouldn't believe, so he lied, to keep the faith in gods that couldn't care less about this world

Eros wished he could believe with them, join the act and be their priest, not be the child charlatan. Maybe it was time to have faith.

So Monkin lifted the finished mask of Eros into the air with reverence. Then Eros put on his face, the will of the gods waiting for no man. Eros gave a passing glance at the reflection of the shattered mirror not seeing his divine reflection but of a rotten child, Monkin. It's one good eye glowing red, tears of puss still streaming down its face pitfully. Eros didn't speak to it, it didn't deserve attention and left the workshop, his one good eye glowing a deep blue.

July 29th, 2023