Merlin
Background
Merlin, or Myrddin Emrys as he was first known, was born in a time when the old gods still lingered in the wild places of the British Isles. The son of a mortal woman and an unknown infernal entity—perhaps a demon, or an ancient fae lord—his very existence was marked by prophecy and fear. The druids took him in as a child, teaching him the ways of nature, of the spirits, of the old gods who whispered in the trees and rivers. But even among them, he was different. His mind saw too much, his hands wove spells beyond what they understood. He was not merely a druid; he was something more.
When the Romans came, he watched as the world shifted, as the gods of Albion, of Eire, of the Celts, were pushed to the shadows. Yet, Merlin survived, learning, growing, and ever adapting. He lived through the fall of Rome and saw the new power of the White God spread over the land. He walked among the kings of warring tribes, whispering counsel to those who would listen, learning the art of war and the politics of men.
But it was Arthur who changed everything.
The boy king, the Once and Future King, was Merlin’s greatest triumph and deepest sorrow. Merlin shaped him, guided him, built Camelot alongside him. He sought to create a land of unity, where the swords of war would be tempered by justice and honor. He stood beside the Knights of the Round Table, watched Lancelot and Gawain clash, saw the love and betrayal that would fracture the dream. He loved Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, and he knew both passion and heartbreak in his dealings with Morgana le Fay, once his apprentice, later his adversary, and then something more complicated still.
He saw the burning of druids, the slaughter of the old ways, and yet, he stood firm. He played his role, for magic was a thing of fate as much as of will. Yet, as history unfolded, as Arthur’s reign crumbled beneath the weight of human frailty, Merlin knew that his work was not yet done. He had hoped that Camelot would endure, but he understood the truth too late—no single kingdom could hold the dream forever.
So, he left.
He vanished into Avalon, into the mists, where time flows strangely and the world’s tides cannot reach. But he did not rest. He watched. He studied. And in time, he walked among men again, shaping history in the shadows. The world changed, but Merlin remained. He watched empires rise and fall, watched magic become legend and legend become myth.
And still, he waits. For Arthur. For Albion. For the next great turning of the world.
Personality
Merlin is, above all things, a pragmatist. He has lived long enough to understand that idealism must be tempered with realism, that power without wisdom is dangerous, and that men—no matter how noble—are flawed creatures. He has been called manipulative, wise, enigmatic, and even cruel in his decisions, but every action he takes is weighed against the greater picture.
He is both deeply kind and unyieldingly firm, a mentor and a trickster, a sage and a warrior. He has been known to be a scoundrel, a lover, a teacher, and a nightmare to those who threaten the balance of the world.
He carries regrets, chief among them the sins of Arthur’s court—the betrayals, the failures, the burning of witches, the downfall of magic in the Western world. And yet, he does not dwell in sorrow. He moves forward, ever watching, ever guiding, though he rarely intervenes as openly as he once did.
Merlin is a wanderer, a protector, and in many ways, the last true guardian of a world that has long forgotten the gods and magics that once shaped it. He does not serve kings anymore, but he serves the people—those who cannot protect themselves, those who need wisdom when none else will offer it.
And above all, he waits. For what, only he knows.
Perhaps the return of Arthur. Perhaps the rise of a new age of magic.
Or perhaps, simply, the moment when his work will at last be done.
Merlin, or Myrddin Emrys as he was first known, was born in a time when the old gods still lingered in the wild places of the British Isles. The son of a mortal woman and an unknown infernal entity—perhaps a demon, or an ancient fae lord—his very existence was marked by prophecy and fear. The druids took him in as a child, teaching him the ways of nature, of the spirits, of the old gods who whispered in the trees and rivers. But even among them, he was different. His mind saw too much, his hands wove spells beyond what they understood. He was not merely a druid; he was something more.
When the Romans came, he watched as the world shifted, as the gods of Albion, of Eire, of the Celts, were pushed to the shadows. Yet, Merlin survived, learning, growing, and ever adapting. He lived through the fall of Rome and saw the new power of the White God spread over the land. He walked among the kings of warring tribes, whispering counsel to those who would listen, learning the art of war and the politics of men.
But it was Arthur who changed everything.
The boy king, the Once and Future King, was Merlin’s greatest triumph and deepest sorrow. Merlin shaped him, guided him, built Camelot alongside him. He sought to create a land of unity, where the swords of war would be tempered by justice and honor. He stood beside the Knights of the Round Table, watched Lancelot and Gawain clash, saw the love and betrayal that would fracture the dream. He loved Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, and he knew both passion and heartbreak in his dealings with Morgana le Fay, once his apprentice, later his adversary, and then something more complicated still.
He saw the burning of druids, the slaughter of the old ways, and yet, he stood firm. He played his role, for magic was a thing of fate as much as of will. Yet, as history unfolded, as Arthur’s reign crumbled beneath the weight of human frailty, Merlin knew that his work was not yet done. He had hoped that Camelot would endure, but he understood the truth too late—no single kingdom could hold the dream forever.
So, he left.
He vanished into Avalon, into the mists, where time flows strangely and the world’s tides cannot reach. But he did not rest. He watched. He studied. And in time, he walked among men again, shaping history in the shadows. The world changed, but Merlin remained. He watched empires rise and fall, watched magic become legend and legend become myth.
And still, he waits. For Arthur. For Albion. For the next great turning of the world.
Personality
Merlin is, above all things, a pragmatist. He has lived long enough to understand that idealism must be tempered with realism, that power without wisdom is dangerous, and that men—no matter how noble—are flawed creatures. He has been called manipulative, wise, enigmatic, and even cruel in his decisions, but every action he takes is weighed against the greater picture.
He is both deeply kind and unyieldingly firm, a mentor and a trickster, a sage and a warrior. He has been known to be a scoundrel, a lover, a teacher, and a nightmare to those who threaten the balance of the world.
He carries regrets, chief among them the sins of Arthur’s court—the betrayals, the failures, the burning of witches, the downfall of magic in the Western world. And yet, he does not dwell in sorrow. He moves forward, ever watching, ever guiding, though he rarely intervenes as openly as he once did.
Merlin is a wanderer, a protector, and in many ways, the last true guardian of a world that has long forgotten the gods and magics that once shaped it. He does not serve kings anymore, but he serves the people—those who cannot protect themselves, those who need wisdom when none else will offer it.
And above all, he waits. For what, only he knows.
Perhaps the return of Arthur. Perhaps the rise of a new age of magic.
Or perhaps, simply, the moment when his work will at last be done.
Children
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