The Siphon and the Sieve

In his youth, the kíndallan necromancer Stagnekad explored many paths toward immortality. His people had long suffered from short lifespans—especially short when compared with those of their planetary neighbors, the elves—and he began his work from a place of charity and generosity. Perhaps, even, of altruism.

Eventually, the halflings say, Stagnekad’s ambitions turned selfish. And it was at that point that the vile sorceror turned to the fae for assistance. “Benevolent sprites,” he said to them, “wouldst thou bestow thy favor upon me? I seek only to help my people, but I need more time.”

The fairies were all too happy to oblige. For a price, of course.

Stagnekad was granted a bottomless well within himself, something he could fill with life and potential—but it was up to him to fill it. And if the well ever ran dry, he would die. Therefore, the fae told him, he must steal from the reservoirs within other living beings. He must become a siphon—a siphon forever in search of another sieve.

Stagnekad was indeed a First Age resident of Eden, his infamous murder of Lüe the Mapmaker the source of tensions between halflings and kíndallans to this day. Whether or not the curse of siphonism can be traced back to a bargain he made with the fae—that’s another story, entirely.

Stagnekad’s most vile creation, the Oragas Ríxfíg, is proof that he was still searching for ways to evade death—even decades after his supposed transformation into the world’s first siphon. This leads some scholars to believe that he couldn’t possibly be a siphon, for why would he create the Ríxfíg if he were. And yet: others believe, just as wholeheartedly, that the Ríxfíg was simply a backup plan—a way to cheat the fae and to keep himself alive, even if he was incapable of quenching his siphon’s thirst some day.