[ Eladrin ] [ Aestetica | Paragons | Court of Stars ]
Thisamet
The Blithe Spirit, the Lady of the Overflowing Table, the Uninvited Guest (planar coure/tulani eladrin empyreal lord [she/her] / CG)
Portfolio: Celebrations, feasts, holidays
Realm: Arborea / Arvandor / The Bounteous Table
Thisamet (thih-SAH-met) is the one empyreal lord you mustn’t forget to invite to your next revel—whether you’re toasting a victory or mourning a loss. She’s the Arborean party planner who can turn a bread roll into a banquet and grudges into giggles. Forget those stuffy aasimar clutching at their harps; Thisamet’s the blood who’s topping up your wine cup while whispering, “Live a little, cutter!”
Thisamet usually adopts a slightly plump, middle-aged guise, her face etched with laughter lines. Her hair shifts colours with the seasons; it’s bronze for harvest festivals, silver for solstices, and black for funerals. Her robes are patchworks of party fabrics: Mardi Gras beads sewn into silks, velvet stained with spilt wine. Personality-wise, she’s all warmth without pretension. She loves to mingle with partygoers incognito—it’s only after she’s left that cutters tend to realise they’ve been in the presence of the feasting spirit herself. Her moniker ‘the Uninvited Guest’ is used as a term of affection—any eladrin would be deeply honoured to have their celebration visited by Thisamet.
In her celestial form, she’s a whirlwind of cornucopias, each spilling not just food but memories: a child’s first birthday cake, a soldier’s last meal.
Philosophy
Thisamet’s philosophy is one of joyful abundance. She embodies the riotous generosity of the multiverse. Her feasts defy the laws of physics: A single fig becomes a buffet, a thimble of wine can drown army in merriment. But she’s not just about food—for Thisamet abundance means more: more laughter, more music, more chances to connect. In the Lower Planes, fiends hoard their power; well, Thisamet spills her blessings like a bubber spills secrets.
Her tables have one rule: “No knives—literal or metaphorical.” At her gatherings, tanar’ri sip tea with eladrin, and even the traditionally uptight rilmani loosen up in a jig. Thisamet’s magic isn’t just the spreading of peace—it’s the realisation of folks who discover they’d rather dance than duel. “Save your grudges until after dessert,” Thisamet will say, wagging her ladle like a magic wand.
But the Blithe Spirit knows celebration isn’t all confetti. She sanctifies grief too—funerals, farewells, those quiet nights when the music stops. Her presence amplifies feelings, whether it’s joy at a wedding or tears at a wake. “A feast without emotions is just chewing,” she’ll joke.
Thisamet rejects the idea that virtue means austerity. To her, denying joy is as sinful as hoarding it. She teaches that feasting together is resistance—against tyranny, despair, and the endless hunger of the Lower Planes.
Her cult operates on three principles: No one eats alone—quite literally—her magic will summon enough chairs for everyone. Celebrate everything—lost a toe? Throw a ‘Nine-Toes Jubilee’! Leave the ladder down—if you climb to success, make sure you toss down some grub for the others.
Role in Eladrin Society
Thisamet’s the glue in Arborean society. She’s one of the reasons the endless parties of the plane of freedom don’t devolve into brawls. Even Morwel consults her before court galas. Her closest ally is Gwynharwyf, the Fury. “Gwyn starts the fight; but I end it—with a pie to the face,” Thisamet chuckles. Yet she’s also vital in sombre moments: when the shiradi mourn lost warriors, Thisamet hosts the Feast of Echoes, where the dead are remembered through their favourite foods.
Thisamet’s aestetica is a unique one for sure. She’s a tulani who’s a proud matron to the coure—those tiny eladrin who manifest as prankish, gossamer-winged sprites. But her coure are more than tricksters; they’re hospitality incarnate. They swarm weddings to ensure no glass stays empty, haunt funerals to share cheeky jokes about the deceased, and guide lost travellers to feasts via trails of cake crumbs or floating cutlery. Combining tulani and coure, simultaneously the greatest and least of the eladrin, just goes to show how inclusive and welcoming Thisamet can be.
Berk, the best way to spite evil is to enjoy yourself!
—Thisamet
The Bounteous Table
Thisamet’s domain, the Bounteous Table, is a hillock in Arvandor which is always nearby when there’s a party in the air. At the crest of the hill is a marble table that is always able to seat all comers. It’s laden with your favourite foods, served by spectral hands. The place has some curious quirks. Time flies—a night here lasts a week elsewhere. Social hierarchies are flipped on their head—if a group of servants and nobles came for dinner, it’s the servants who’d get seated at the head of the table and the lords who’d have to wait on them. To ensure the table’s rules are followed, diners are required to elect a King or Queen, who must be one of the lowliest among them. The current Queen of Pranks is a cow. Yes, cutter, a regular cow—albeit one with a very fetching crown.
Chant goes that Thisamet’s true power lies in her mastery of the paradox: the Lady of the Ladle is a power who knows that true order is a perfectly-seasoned stew. In a multiverse beset by Blood Wars and cosmic ennui, her feasts are acts of revolution—proof that joy, when shared freely, can overcome all evils.
Source: Chronicle of the Righteous [PF1e] p55; Firebrands [PF2e] p67; Jon Winter-Holt