Calm, draped in his whirling silver cloak, graceful as a feather, Corunír has an etherial presence upon the battlefield, his longsword and shield flashing, and his piercing voice crying orders, rising above the din. Although one of the youngest Eladrin ever appointed the position of Guard Captain of Luimeril, Corunír’s youth belies his talent as a leader of men. He has a fine tactician’s mind, and possesses the rare skill to perceive the flow of a battle whilst stuck in the chaos of its centre.

Shortly after his appointment, the council who govern the small village of Luimeril (Corunír’s birthplace & home) ordered the village to join the Retreat and flee Cormanthor forever. Corunír and his Guard were ordered to work as a rear guard of sorts, maintaining safety and order amongst the villagers as they left their homes.

One night, whilst patrolling the forest surrounding the now desolate village, the air filled suddenly with thick choking smoke and hellish shrieks, and they were overwhelmed by a raiding party of hulking, terrible creatures of flame.

Corunír awoke injured, lost and alone amid the smoking wreckage of Luimeril. He searched for his lost guardsmen for days as his wounds steadily worsened. Finally he reached Shadowdale - a human township on the banks of the Ashaba, and near death, sought refuge there.

Two months passed as Corunír recovered, and reports of the attacks on the roads continued to grow. One day he received a message from the town’s ruler, Lord Mourngrym - a band of willing adventurers was being assembled to investigate the strange happenings. Corunír was expected to join this party to repay the Mourngrym’s kindness in having taken him in and housing him during his recovery.

Corunír had his doubts about joining this band of inexperienced adventurers, but he knew that it would give him a chance to begin the search for his lost Guardsmen once again.
He would educate these mortals in the ways of battle, its elegance. He would find his men, and find his honour again.

Corunír has all the marks of a fine Eladrin Captain - tall, lithe, athletic & graceful. Subtle differences in his appearance, however, always set him somewhat apart from his fellowmen. Pale even for one of his kind, his long hair is the colour of the purest silver, and incredibly fine. His eyes too, rather than the deep blue or green usual to his kind, are instead a pale greyish yellow. Eschewing a Captain's standard mail, he chooses instead to wear well worn hide armour, swathed in a long silvery cloak that he is rarely seen without. Due to his unusual dress and appearance, upon his appointment to Captain, he was given the name Celebedhel, or Silver One by the men he was to command. Now, as each day passes he bows his head, filled with shame, and touches the Captain’s wreath he still wears, whispering to himself a promise to find the lost men who gave him that name.