Jerez Vanguard

My past is no triumphant tale of bravery or victory. I was born several weeks before the Dragon came and brought the beginning of the end for us. My mother had died giving birth to me. My father, who's name I still do not know, was heartbroken at the loss of his one and only true love. However at the birth of his son he seemed to regain his high spirits. My father was one of the highest ranking guards for our king. Known for his bravery and cunning mastery of Dance. He went off as one of the vanguards to fight the devilish beast. Fate was unkind to my family it seems, my father was killed in battle while trying to by any amount of time for our fellow warriors. His courage was great but his act of bravery was to no avail. For as we all know the merciless Dragon still burnt the country side and took a great deal of elven lives. It is quite sad that the only knowledge of my father has been given to me by a Blade Weaver who survived the Battle on the Field of Sorrows. Gorahlu took me as the son he never had. He trained me in the ways of Blade Dance from the day I was old enough to carry a sword. He always told me of how proud my father would be of me. He himself did not know much of my father but tales that he had heard. For a hundred of years to hone my skills. I had grown so fast in the ways of Blade Weaving that it surprised my teacher. For soon enough the student surpasses even his master. Gorahlu told me that it was time to give me something from my father. He told me to journey back to the village of my birth and to look behind a book case to find a gift to me from my father. With a brand new hope in my heart I felt as if I was going to find my meaning in life. I took the fastest steed on my travel for my village hidden deep within a vast forest. When I finally arrived I found my old home but nothing of memories came back into my mind. I found the bookcase that Gorahlu told me of. Behind it was a large golden inscribed chest. The Chest was inscribed in gold saying "To my own son, whom I love, Jerez". That is when I first found out my real name. Before I had been referred to as boy by Gorahlu. My life was starting to take focus. I opened the chest with great joy to find my fathers family sword in its deep blue sheath. I gently picked up the blade and unsheathed it. To my surprise the blade was still in pure condition. Its handle was gold embroidered up to the hilt. The blade itself was the color of the deepest ocean blue. How my father was able to craft a sword like this is still a question to me. I took the sword and wrapped it in a navy silk shroud. Night had fallen by this time so I spent the night in my brief but childhood home. In the middle of the night I had a terrible nightmare. It was of a group of shadows, 10 maybe 12, jump onto Gorahlu and kill him and light fire to his village. As the shadows howled I awoke from my sleep in a cold sweat. It was morning and I had the worst gut feeling an Elf could have. I ran to my steed and rode as fast as the wind to return home. "No, this can't be." I said upon my return. My dream was nothing but a sign of warning. Just as in the dream most of the village had been burnt to the ground. I stood there in a shocking trance. I heard a low-pitched moan come from behind me. It was Gorahlu. He had not been totally killed before the shadows left. His hand had been severed badly and a strange tattoo was carved on his chest with some sort of knife. "Irekei" he mumbled. "They came in the night and ruthlessly killed and torched everything. I tried my best *cough*.. but they cut my hand off in my sleep and I could do little once awake. I have little time left *cough* ..I see you found your fathers sword. He named it Vanguard. With it avenge this *cough* village. I prey you find out who you really are. Your skills will not fail you my son. Good lu..u" I screamed in agony of all whom I had ever loved had been taken from me for some reason. If only I had waited a single more day, I might have been able to prevent this. I've let down Gorahlu and my whole village. I buried him and left to accomplish his and my goal. From then on I took the name Jerez Vanguard so I would never forget about my past. I left and headed to a more populated area to find that Lord Sillestor had taken charge. I worked my way through his system to one of his body guards. However his system of rule was a bit disturbing to me. He assured me not to worry about the matter and that I lacked the intellect to grasp the whole picture. In time a war started with us and the Gods who started out as our protectors. I followed Sillestor into the Time of Taming and fought by his side for a while. His rage in the battle field was like non other I had ever seen. When he wielded the Shadowbane a spell seemed to come over him and drive him berserk. When I saw him strike down Loromir, Archon of peace I feared the near future of our kind was at stake. At that moment I told Sillestor that I wanted nothing to do with his ways. He was winded but said in a rage that I was a fool not to be on the wining side. He charged on and I slowly left the battle field. From then on I stayed in the forest alone to perfect my skills of Blade Dance. It is then that I forged my own blades to use in my own battles ahead. I heard news of Sillestor's death and thought nothing. I continued on training without rest. I trained my self nearly to my own death. When I felt ready I journeyed to the next town. Much had changed and I did not really care. The Elven race had fallen into ruin. I felt my cold heart not even miss a beat at the sound of the news. With no knowledge of my background why should I care. I worked as a mercenary for a short time. This work left me with no warmth in my heart. I then heard of a Direct descendant of the Gilliandor family. That's it I thought, I could join their ranks and help to rebuild our great Empire. On my way there I was stopped in my tracks by a group of the devil men, the Irekei. They donned the same strange tattoo carved into Gorahlu's chest. One of them hissed "So this must be his son. Some how he missed out on our little party. Don't try to struggle in the end it makes death worse." I was overcome by rage and shouted "So you're the ones who killed Gorahlu? It is not wise to draw a blade on me in my current state." The devil ones did not heed my warning. A short battle ensued with these assassins. I was not even cut by these so called warriors. My cloths were in need of replacement if I was to go in the presence of Noble blood. The nearest town is farther away than the House of Gilliandor is I thought. So I pressed on.