Sidhlot

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Sidhlot SilverVeil
Status: Unknown
Guild: Necromancer
Race: Elf
Gender: Male
Associates: Amaggo
Relatives: Anashia (daughter)

Necrolord Sidhlot SilverVeil

A very old and powerful elven necromancer. Founder of the Bone Elves.

Mountain Elf, Bone Elf

Originally a Mountain Elf, he founded the Bone Elves, a splinter group. He and Morganae are now enemies, though there are rumors that she is his mother, lover, or sister. Killed Anlorahle, one of Morganae's daughters, on the gondola.

He corrupted Iron Clan into foul and evil tools in order to make them a weapon against Morganae. Iron Clan was composed of living beings, however, which has not been done before or since by Sidhlot or any anybody else. Might have been very draining for him.

Bone Elves

Anashia and Amaggo are Bone Elves. Anashia is his daughter.

Relationship with Sorrow

Resurrected Sorrow a long time ago, an early event leading to their strange alliance. Won't tell why he resurrected Sorrow. In the event that Sorrow died, he was to be placed in charge. In late 361, contacted and negotiated with Sirolarn on behalf of Sorrow in late 361. Following Sorrow's death, he was assisted by Profiteer Strybjorn in taking Sorrow's books south to his home.

Strange Magics

Around the time of Sorrow's War, was taking 'tokens' from Bards to help with his creepy magic stuff. Appears to feed off these tokens by linking souls to it. Was able to 'compel' Marstan (a mere Necromancer) with his powers. Following the war and his trek south with Strybjorn, he had a magical shield that nobody was able to penetrate.

In the Books

Trading Card

Sidhlot is nearly as old as Queen Morganae, and though the nature of their relationship is unknown, he hates her with a passion. Early on in her reign, Sidhlot led an uprising in an attempt to depose the Mountain Queen. His failure brought banishment, and the formation of the necromantic Bone Clan. Since then, Sidhlot has taken every opportunity to stir up bloodshed and chaos.

Appearance

Sidhlot has pointed ears and silver eyes. His blue-black hair is long and fine, and is worn braided. He has pale skin.

He is wearing some suede boots, a ring of braided hair, a long silvery robe and a sweeping black cloak the color of night sewn with tiny stars in silver thread.

Sidhlot and the Old Man (perhaps!)

Two men stood outside, watching the starry night. One was forever young, the other forever old.

The young man, noticing his company for the first time, asked, "Who are you?"

The Old Man responded, "I am who I am."

This resulted in a pause from the young man, then a smirk. He said, "So you grace me with your presence finally."

"I reckoned it was time."

"What do you want?"

"Complex question, despite looking simple on the face of it. I want many things. To laugh, to grow," a pause, "to consume."

"There are very few things that scare me anymore and your off-handed remarks do not count among them."

"I did not come to scare you, I came to ask for your help."

"My help? What could I possibly offer you and how could you possibly make me care?"

"There is a change in the wind. I can feel it. The Moon Mages will soon notice it, too. I know in my gut it's another Necromancer."

"And you suspect me?"

"I still have a reason to care about the Philosophy. It must survive for at least a short while longer. I want you to help them."

The conversation drifted off with that, and both men stood quietly under the sky.

Finally, the young man spoke again, softly, "You've made a mistake."

The Old Man asked, "Oh?"

"You appeared here without summons, tried to threaten me with your honeyed words and then have the audacity to ask me to help some miserable upstarts. Not only are you a fool, but you grossly overstep your place."

Before the Old Man could react, the young man threw his hands outward. A blaze of blue energy, half-lightning half-cloud, erupted toward the Old Man and shredded his form like so much mist. When the magic cleared, what was left standing was a naked, grey figure, burnt beyond gender, with a halo of sunlight adorning its head. It mutely stared at the young man before vanishing where it had stood.

"Of course," the young man mused to himself, "With time, we can get ever so confused about who our friends are."

Pronunciation

Per GM Rowan, the original creator of this character, the correct pronunciation of the name is "Shee-low".