A lithe half-elven man sits atop a stump, his pale skin seemingly luminous in the moonlight. Straight black hair cascades down his back, and he is dressed only in leather breeches and a pair of elk hide boots, though he is painted on his torso with tiger-like stripes. Two very different scimitars hang at his waist. One, called Vengeance, is ornate, and holds a large ruby in the hilt. The second, called Rage, is ordinary, plain even, and well worn. The half-elf has but one vibrant green eye, the other is obscured by a weathered patch and a bright scar. Upon closer inspection, most of his body seems to be crisscrossed with scars.

"My tale," he intones solemnly, in a rich tenor voice,"is not for the weak of heart. My tale is the tale of Forbidden Love, unjust retribution, and demon gods, mixed with a hope for happiness. 60 years previous, I was born in the Elven Court to Breanna Starym, of the house Starym. My father was an adventuring Northman from the Moonshaes, called Healthane Ironfist. When it was found that Breanna was pregnant by a human, she was placed under house arrest, and Healthane was captured. Healthane did not see the light of day for 20 more years. For 20 years he knew naught but a fire-brand or chains. For the first 20 years after I was born, I was scorned by my relatives, and virtually forgotten by my mother. My mother and I were made to watch the beating of my father every afternoon. Apparently elves don't appreciate humans "ruining" their princesses. Though my father never screamed, my mother was never without tears.

On my twentieth birthday (about the human equivilent of 11), I watched my father be crucified in the courtyard of our palacial compound. He never cried out... Anyhow, my mother died that day also, of a broken heart, I suppose. That same day, to add shame to pain, my own Uncle put out my eye so that the last thing it would ever behold was "the folly wrought of forbidden love" which I was a "living testament to." I ran away that night.

I ran for days before I was captured by the followers of Malar, the Blood God. For twenty years I was used as quarry in their ritual hunts. Apparently, sentient beings provide more of a challenge. It was during this time that I recieved most of my scars. I was rescued from that bloody cult by Orconan Windracer, a Shadoweir of Mielikki. My next 20 years I spent living among the Shadoweirs in the High Forest, learning the ways of Mielikki. During this period I was accepted into a tribe of Wild Elves who were very much different than the Elves of the Elven Court. I learned many things from them. Since then, I have come to lead Dragons Inc., have become a member of the Company of the Wolf, and married Tegra D'Are. I took her name, the better to outwit the House of Starym in their continuing search to destroy me."