Breath research was always at the forefront of Leacianus’ culture and advances as a civilization. Their continuous approach to the arcane led to their split with their wood elven ancestors and settling in Leacianus saw their efforts strengthen even greater. Many calamities befell such researchers in their time, yet none as dire as Arcelen whose potential was infinite and mastery of the Breath unrivaled even by The Nirloom.
When purified Breath from Prendael was poured into the soul vessel of a dead great sage, a formless body took place wreathed in arcane fire. The hopes that the sage would be reborn were gutted, as were nigh all present in the room by the being that would call itself Arcelen. Their magical essence was stripped from their bodies leaving them defenseless as it tore each researcher apart, sparing only a single creator to suffer the penalty of their failure.
Arcelen found ways to absorb the essences of any creatures that surrounded it, able to easily dispatch any kill-squads sent to it for Breath was the weapon that gifted almost all Leacianan warriors. A particularly powerful squad of martial’s were trained for months to apprehend the abomination, though they took many losses themselves they were able to successfully wound Arcelen by not wielding any magic themselves.
The wounded elemental swiftly retreated, finding its way to the Prendael from whence it had came and empty its form in the waters like sand scattered across the surface. Finally as the war reached Tara, the staunch of death awoke Arcelen knowing the opportune moment to strike was now. It held power and dominion over many weaker creatures of Breath and thus dominated them to its own cause.
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