Crossing the Penumbra
Feats: Ritual Caster, Improved Initiative, Armor Proficiency (Leather), Initiate of the Faith
At-Wills: Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Thunderwave, Scorching Burst
Encounter Powers: Icy Terrain, Shield, Colour Spray
Daily Powers: Healing Word, Freezing Cloud, Sleep, Expeditious Retreat
Born the second son of Finwë and Miriel, Fëanor was born shortly before the Time of Strife. His early childhood was idyllic, as all Eladrin childhoods are. He was starting to learn the basics of magic and swordplay, and although he had much more natural talent for the former than the latter, he worked hard to make up for his lack of ability. He took quite well to his early schooling, but these meagre skills would do little good in the events to come.
Shorly after his ninth birthday, his town was invaded by a powerful and aged green dragon, Sirrush, who felt that a lair built around a spot where the veil between Feywild and reality was so thin could only enhance his power and reputation. The added bonus of destroying a few hundred pesky Eladrin was, apparently, an afterthought.
Miriel escaped the ravage with Fëanor and Indis, a girl of barely two seasons who’s parents were killed in the attack. Finwë and Finarfin, Finwë’s older brother were not so lucky. Finwë led in the defense of the city, and both were killed, as were all who stayed and fought.
The three vagabonds, unable to link up with any other survivors, spent the better part of the next winter struggling to survive and make it to a village. They eventually made it, although the events took a steep toll on Miriel. She left Fëanor and Indis in the care of an academy of magic founded by the wizard/priest Maedhros. No one knows what became of her after that.
Over the next several years, Fëanor studied furiously and stood out in his studies. He became such an exceptional student that he came to the attention of Maedhros himself. His final five years of study were under the strict eye of the elder Eladrin, and he learned far more than just cantrips.
Magic was an art form, the original art form. Music merely copied the aural forming of chaos into pattern; painting merely copied the colors magic formed In The Beginning. To not recognize the art was to waste magic, and Corellon was always watching, and judging. The true worship of Corellon was nothing more than using magic to touch the sublime in every living thing. To coax pattern and beauty out of madness and chaos requires an artist’s touch.
After his apprenticeship was judged finished, Fëanor was gifted with an orb of obsidian, magically crafted by Maedhros from draconic glass (obsidian formed by dragon’s fire rather than volcanic events), a sigil of Corellon, and a reminder that “One needs not be a priest to accomplish great deeds in the name of one’s god”. He was then sent off to seek his own destiny in whatever way he saw fit.