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Tiashi Maldovi

    I was born in Wehnimer's Landing, the only daughter of a young warrior and his mage wife. I was trained in the Wizard profession by my mother, and my father taught me wisdom, honesty, and respect for all.  Although I loved all that my mother taught me, I relished the time with my father.  He had just started to teach me how to use a sword, when my little brother Sunarts was born.
    We knew right away that he was different from other kids his age; always playing jokes, running around the yard giggling for no reason, but the stranger he acted, the more we loved him.  He could find humor in anything, and he always helped me to lighten up in tense situations.  Everyone always said he was too odd to "fit in" anywhere properly, and every time I overheard someone saying something about my little brother, I used to get so mad...until I'd see Sunarts and his innocent smile would brighten my day and make me forget my anger.  My parents and I firmly believed that Sunarts was touched by the Gods to be something special.
    Therefore, feeling that they needed a change and Sunarts needed somewhere he could be himself, my family picked up and moved to Icemule Trace.  I remained behind in the Landing, though.  I had a lot of friends that I wasn't ready to leave just yet, and one young warrior was taking me out hunting and teaching me to use my blade.  I didn't want to miss out on anything he could teach me.
    I am still continuing my magic studies, and I have become good enough with my blade that I rarely use my magic to attack.  Instead, I use the spells I have learned to help others protect themselves better on their quests, and I find this the most fulfilling part of my profession.
 

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Gentledove Di'Amore

    I grew up in an orphanage that my parents ran.  With the name my mother gave me, I was always pressured into growing up as something less warrior-like..something empathish or clerical.  That was never my forte though, I always liked the challenge of the hunt, the fear of not knowing if I was up to the task I had set myself, and then the elation of mastering
what I had set out to do.
     Then one day I just up and left, I said my goodbyes to my parents and the other children at the orphanage and set out on my own. I eventually ended up in The Landing, stayed for a bit, then wandered to Rivers Rest for a time.  The Landing drew me back though, and again I was off to Icemule for some time there. Then back to The Landing..then off to Solhaven for a long while. Until I ended back up in The Landing again. All the cities hold a special place in my heart, but The
Landing has a way of drawing you back nto what ever hold it has on any given person.
    Every place has shaped me in some way into the Warrior I am today, be it the people, events, occurances or just plain sitting and listening. I would never change a thing, the good or the bad. Regret has no room in my heart. Everything happens for a purpose, all you can do is adapt.
 

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Icronious Parkian

    I was but a young lad when me parents died fighting off a band ov brigands. There numbers too great the loss ov me
parents lives in what  was a glorious battle .
     Taken by the brigands to be surly be sold into slavery. Found me chance to escape as they slept in a drunken stuper. Killing the leader with a scaramax me father gave me.The very one I av with me now.
       With the death of there leader my parents death avenged I set off on a ship working me way to pay for me passage to a land I could conquer.One day I came to the shores of Elanthia and the land I would conquer.
 

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Neilli  Mac'Dhonnchaidh

    I was third born of ten, and the only daughter. My mother died giving birth to my youngest brother. After her death, I stepped up and took over all household responsibilities. I was only twelve at the time.
    When I had free time, I would practice my fighting skills. When my baby brother was approaching training age, my father started pushing me to find a husband. He said that at 21, I was too old to still be at home, and that I needed to start a family of my own.  I agreed that I was too old to be at home. But I knew I did not want to be a mother either. So I left.
    My brothers have now all taken the Rites and are full T'Kirem warriors, all but the youngest.  He chose another path.  It is my wish to one day return as an accomplished warrior, complete the Rites and finally take my rightful place beside my brothers.
 
 

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Siolta Tondol

    I grew up on the out-skirts of a little town close to Ice Mule with my father, until he died. At which time I was basically told to go find my mother.  With only an old painting of her I headed out determinded to find her.  That is how I found my way down to Landing.  Since I lived in such a small village and I had pointed ears I lead a soltary life and spent most of my time hiding in the shawdows and learning how to listen to find out what I needed.
 
 

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Shuyy

    I was born to a Giant Cleric Mother, and Warrior father, the first of many kids, in a small village where Icemule Trace is now. I was taught the ways of the Warrior, while my younger brother Shuy became a cleric, we both are helpers of Voln, as my parents are, and we each worship the Mighty Red Dragon.
    I became a powerful brawler as a youngin, and spent my free time fighting other youngins, or listening to my dad's tales. At the age of 20, I set off for my Manhood quest, to capture a red dragon, I managed to capture one as an egg, and named him Gargameth, after this, I returned home to find my village destroyed by Orcs, so traveled to lands, killing every orc I could find, but a huge Grey Orc killed me, so some lord dragged me to a place called The Landing, but I got lost a lot, so another kind lord led me to the Inn, and there I met the old Thrak Warrior.
    He taught me all about the rules of the hunting, etiquette, etc.. and I was off on my own…
 
 

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Mordoch Lorithnar

    My mother died when I was young and my Father left our home and most of our belongings behind as he set of in
search of something...what I'm not really sure, but looking back on it now it seems as if he went mad and was perhaps searching for my mother.  Since he was really in no state to take care of me, I had to learn to fend for myself, and care for him as we followed every trail he decided to go down.
    That's what lead me to the life of a ranger, I'm not incredibly suited for it, and had no role models, but I grew to love the land and when I had the opportunity, I wished to learn more about it.
    Eventually my father left me at the inn on the outskirts of Danjirland, in the care of the innkeeper there, whom I came to know as mother and her daughter became my sister.  I still check for my father on every merchant caravan that comes through, hoping one day to find him.
 
 

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Alcan Banlan

    Alcan was born into a small farming community where he was raised in a generally peaceful life.  His parents were retired adventurers, in todays standards, his father was a well trained warrior, while his mother was an equally powerful sorceress.  The two of them had lived long fruitful lives filled with the adventures that legends are made from.  Finally after many years, they decided to settle down and start a family.  After settling into the village, they lived an easy life, harvesting their turnips and raising their young boy.  However, there was one small trouble.
    Every few weeks, a small raiding party of orcs and undead, would crash through the village.  Attempting to steal, murder, and kidnap the people of the village.  Before Alcan's parents arrived, the villagers were ready to give up but, between the two well-seasoned adventurers and the valiant efforts of the townsmen, they were able to fight back.  And so the raids came fewer and far between, until they tapered off into nothing.  Until Alcan's eleventh year.
    One stormy evening, after a hard days work, Alcan's family sat around their fireplace, Alcan reading while his parents stared into the flames contently.  The hours dragged by and all was silent.  Finally, Alcan's mother broke the silence, sending him off to bed.  Alcan was asleep well before his parents bolted out the door.  Alcan's father saw a zombie, stalking outside their window and then rushed to their weapons, as his mother cast a flare into the sky, warning the villagers.
    A battle raged outside, heedless to Alcan's sleeping mind, until a loud crash came from below.  The young boy was startled awake by a crashing pot.  With the light toes of a well trained assassin, or a young boy, Alcan tip-toed to the balcony above the stairs, staring down into the area below, watching as a horrible figure with decaying flesh creeped along the wall.  Alcan watched in horror as the thing staggered to the stairs, so intent, that he didn't realize there was another coming from behind him.  A loose floorboard creeked as the creature stepped down, with a start Alcan reacted, rolling off the balcony and landing on the floor, his ankle twisting painfully beneath him before he fell to one knee.  Wasting only a moment to look up and see the beasts glowing red eyes, Alcan dragged himself into his parents bedroom, calling their names as he slammed the heavy door closed behind him.
    Horror nearly overtook his small body when he saw that his parents were gone, and the pounding noise of the undead breaking through the door didn't set his mind at ease.  Desperatly, he limped to a chest of drawers, opening them hurridely, looking for anything.  Suddenly, the door burst open and in crept three zombies, looming a good two feet over the boy.  With a cry, Alcan thrust what he held in front of him like a shield, with one eye open he began to weep.  All he held was an amulet.  As the zombies limped closer, Alcan's hand clenched around the jeweled necklace.  A blue light began to envelope the gem as the magic imbued within was released by Alcan's touch.  Suddenly, a flare, much like the one his own mother used to warn the villagers leapt from the gem and exploded between the zombies.  Alcan flew through the window behind him as the force of the explosion sent the zombies into pieces.  The rain fell on Alcan's unconscious body, and many feared he was dead, much like his parents.
    Years later, Alcan stepped into Helden Hall for his first time, a naive young adventurer, looking for a new home after years of wandering.  Nervously gripping the hilt of his sword he stepped into the onslaught of questions and grilling.  Then, after many weeks, Alcan rose to membership of Helden, and slowly began to create a new family with his co-members.  He grew close to so many, and as his own strength grew, the strength of those bonds did as well.  But finally, Alcan's wanderlust took hold, and he was forced by his own feet to leave Elanthia for some time.  Now, he can be seen occasionally returning to his home within the walls of Helden to share a drink and a laugh with his old friends, telling the tales of the new lands he's seen and the adventurers he's had.
 

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Misfitt Misfitted

    I was brought to the Elanthia by my father when I was in my mid twenties. My father (a sorceror) did not know how to raise me. He had known spells all of his life and I did not want to follow in his footsteps. He abandoned me; left me nothing but a sword, sheild and some leathers. I was soon adopted by two men I now call my brothers, Feelee and Opitan. They taught me the ways of Elanthia as well as those of being a warrior.
 

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Lissanne CygneNoir

I was born in Wehnimer's Landing, the only child of Cynric and Marielle CygneNoir, both skilled healers.  Mama was Elven, of House Loenthra,  and her family never accepted her match with Papa, who was human.  Their cruelty, disdain, and rejection of me at my birth resulted in Mama’s wish to move north and make our home in IceMule Trace, far from her family.
   The long journey north was treacherous.  We were forced to stop by  terrible gales, and were set upon by arctic Titans.  Both fought valiantly, but did not survive the attack.  A group of travelers  happened upon the carnage, finding me in my cradleboard, under my mother’s sheltering body.  They took me to IceMule, where I was placed for fostering with a halfling family, Ma and Da TweeWillow. There I was nurtured and raised with the other fosterlings and their own children.
    My Mama’s  journal had been saved for me, and Ma read to me often. On reading of my mother’s love of learning, and her hopes and dreams for me, Ma and Da TweeWillow sent me to be educated in the Temple school in IceMule, where I became devoted to Lady Lorminstra.  I studied hard, and played hard, and as I grew my vocation as a healer grew too, a gift from my parents. I began my training as an empath in Town Central in IceMule.  I love healing, and that is my chosen craft and vocation. But I also learned I have a taste for adventure and hunting, though I had much to learn!
    I heard talk of the wonders of Wehnimer’s Landing, and made my way there when I was but 10 trainings.  I sought out my mother’s family, who again met me with disdain at my mixed blood, and rejected my wishes for acceptance as family. I felt the loss of family yet again. Then I met and became friends with the brothers and sisters of Helden. I was facinated and drawn to the ideals of Helden Hall, “Honor, Strength and Loyalty”,  the ‘Warrior Spirit’, and after many seasons became an apprentice of the Hall.  Eventually I was honored to be accepted as full Member of Helden Hall.  It was during this time I also was introduced to the Society of Voln, which I am sworn to even yet today, with firm loyalty and commitment.
    I can honestly say, this IS my home, these ARE my family.  Some of the happiest moments of my life have been spent with my friends, weapon in my hand, and I dedicate myself to helping my brothers and sisters, healing them when hurt, supporting them with my talents, as they support and help me daily.
 

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Halgard Ludington

    'Tis seems like ages ago.  But as I recall, I grew up in an underground realm.  It was a peaceful happy life.  Family was everywhere and magic was plentiful.  Soon the outside world was forgotten.  I was just a wee little elf when things began to change.
     I remember the screaming and explosions all about.  I remember elves fleeing this way and that.  Somewhere down in the mountain, something terrible had awakened.  My family and friends fought valiantly, but without success.  The dead creatures kept coming and coming.  Soon the magic was all gone.  My people fell like wheat before the harvester.
     I remember swimming for my life.  The water was cold and air smelled of a foul stench.  Only a few of us survived.  My parents and family dead, I was fortunate to find my way to the surface.
     At that time I realized the foolishness of those who could not hold a blade.  I vowed that I would never be dependent wholly on magic.  As such, I am one of the few Elven warriors that roam the lands, with purpose and determination.
     Later I was adopted by a human family. The Ludingtons were a fine family.  Not wealthy in the least, but of noble spirit and values.  They raised me as their own.  My own name forgotten, I took the name they gave me and was grateful.  Halgard.  Halgard Ludington.  Not an Elven name, but a proud name, dignified and honorable.
     As I have learned more and more about the world, I vowed to return to my birthright.  Many times I have gone back to the Wolves Den searching for clues, but have come up without answers.  I have even tried to clear my home of the evil the lurks there.  For now, the evil is just to deep.
     One day, I shall have my home and name back.  As a Voln master and warrior, I shall take back that which is rightfully mine.
     Until that day, I continue to hone my skills.  My many comrades in the wild lands are my friends.  Helden Hall has become my second home.  Its members are my brothers and sisters in spirit.  You can see me there often.  You might even hear a tale or two.  Look for me in the back of the room, chuckling and twisting grins from others near the fire.
 

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Kilinan E'Thrias

    I was born in a land far from the realms of Elanthia.  My father, a swordsman and blacksmith by trade, left his profession when he met my mother and moved to a small plot of land in the wilderness to live out the rest of his life in the peace and happiness he had finally found.  I was born a few years later and grew to young adulthood under their proud guidance.  My father taught me what he knew of the blacksmith's trade, as well as his skill in bladecraft...my mother tempered these lessons with her own brand of profession;  a caring heart and courteous mind.  Then, in the summer of my 14th year, all that was changed forever.
    My father and I were out in the fields, tilling and removing the rocks that would impede our summer planting.  Our laughter drifted back to my mother, who would poke her head from the cottage we lived in every so often to smile and wave as she went about her own routines of the day.  All at once, I felt a curious trembling in the earth under my feet and turned my eyes to my father, who obvisouly sensed it too.  It wasn't simply my imagination.  We both turned our eyes to the north, watching as a smudge of grey smoke snaked its way into view,  the trembling becoming louder and more pronounced.  My mother eventually appeared from the doorway of the cottage yet agan, her face clouded with concern.
    As the trembling became a low rumble, my father and I took to our heels as one, speeding our way back across the fields to our home, ushering my mother inside.  Just as the door was shut, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see what was creating this errie sound and feeling...and what I saw chilled my blood.  Topping the north rise roughly a mile from where we stood, were no less than 30 dark-clad figures...all on horseback, their shouts echoing through the valley, weapons gleaming in the sun.  No standard flew from their lancepoints and it was clear by their pace that they came not for glory or the honors of battle; they came only for blood.
   After seeing my mother into the root cellar, her face ashen, both my father and I kissed her gently, whispering our love before he went to the mantle and brought down our blades, buckling them securely around our waists as the timbers of the cottage began to shake with the approach of the nameless warriors.  My father said little, aside from reminding me to hold dear all he had taught me, never to lose sight of what I knew to be right and wrong.  One lesson of his burned clearly in my mind at that moment, as I recall it now;  the ideal that each time I drew my blade...to think not of what I was killing, but what I was allowing to live.  With that thought alone, I drew my sword, slowly, from it's scabbard...lifting it in a silent salute to the man whom I owed these values to.  My father only smiled and lifted his blade in return.  He knew, in that moment, he had taught his son well.
    With that, we returned to the door of the cottage, my father yanking it open.  The dark warriors were well-across our fields by this time...close enough that we could see the sunlight glinting from the buckles of their leather armor...hellbent on reaching the only structure they could see;  our home.  Raising our voices together in a battle cry, father and son went to meet them, our own blades held high.  With all the dust, the cries of the dying and the flash of steel that followed, much of the rest is a blur to me, even today.  The last thing I remember was unhorsing one of the raiders as I slashed in under his attack, then something heavy hit the back of my skull...and darkness swallowed me.
    I awoke some time later, although how long exactly it was impossible to tell.  My hair was matted to the back of my head by my own blood...and the sickly-sweet, coppery stench of it was all around me, mingled with the scent of burning flesh and wood.  Shoving off the body of the warrior I had slain, I got shakily to my feet...and beheld the nightmare scene which has haunted my dreams ever since.  The raiders were gone...leaving behind only the bodies of the fallen and utter destruction in their wake.  Our home lay in smoldering ruin, only one wall still standing...the rest collapsed and burnt beyond recognition.  My sword clutched in numb fingers, I wandered the destruction...calling out time and again for my mother and father, but to no avail.
    My father's body I found partially buried under no less than 6 of the dark warriors...testament to the sheer tenacity of his soldierly days.  Although tears stung my eyes as I did so, I dug him free of the foul prison, proud in the fact that he had made these men pay dearly for their honorless desires.  My mother was no less tearful a reunion.  She was still within the ruined hulk of our home, trapped in the root cellar as it was burned around her...but not a single dark form lay with her.  For that reason alone I gave thanks to the gods as I dug her body free.  The last words she had known in this world had been those of my father and I...the last gesture felt, one given in love from the two men who meant most to her in life.
    Buried as best I could, I sat there beside the graves for quite some time, grieving and wondering what was to come next.  Where was I to go?  What was I to do?  I had no silver...no family...only my blade and my wits, but suddenly, that became enough.  As the sun shattered the grey clouds above my head, I stood and drew my sword once more, lifting in it a silent farewell.  I swore an oath to myself with that gesture;  to always honor the memory of the two people who had given me this life...this purpose...this spirit.  As long as I lived, no matter where I was to go, they would be with me every time my blade left it's sheath.  And, when my time comes to join them, they will know me in the same way...entering the afterlife with my blade held high and honor in my heart.
 

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Selkar Stonegrotto

     Selkar Stonegrotto is a dwarf of a forgotten line, descended from one of the escaping enclaves after the Red Plague decimated the ancient dwarven kingdom of Khalaza. Long has it been since his great grandfather lead his ancestors through the mountain ranges now lost to even the eldest scribes of the dwarves. For such a scattering of the peoples and an overwhelming fear of the plague drove the dwarves far across the lands, and deep underneath them. Each Clan found shelter and made a living as they could.
    In one such Clan, Selkar and his older brother Deru were born to Ornar and Misa. Ornar was much renown in rune craft and gate building. And in this endeavor he wished his sons to follow. And for the first half of his life, Selkar did just this; while Deru set out to seek the ancestral home, Khalaza. And so the years passed...
    In perhaps a decade, the messengers from afar born the horrible news that his recent bride, Ariannia of the Muje Clan had met with a grave misfortune as she traveled to Teras Isle upon the Glasen Star. She was blown from the deck in a brutal storm and could not be recovered despite heroic attempts by the crew and other passengers. When this news reached Deru, then living in River's Rest, he promptly lost all will to go on living. The indominable sea had drawn his one love from him. And in this way, he promised, he too would depart.
    Soon thereafter, Deru made the journey to his worshipping place, Lake Eonak. After pulling at his beard in grief, he cast his wedding band into the lake, with the words, 'Eonak, I beg of thee, hold this ring for the Lady Ariannia, on the other side of Lorminstra's Gate!' At that, he flung himself into the lake in full ceremonial armor. This was the last of Deru Stonegrotto.
    The next evening, Lake Eonak riled and tossed in her basins, and behold! A soaked and seaweed festooned female dwarf lay upon the sands. It was Ariannia return from her death! How this could come to pass it unknown and will probably never be determined.
     Of these gruesome yet oddly wonderful events, it was determined that a messenger should be send to the delving of the Stonegrotto Clan. And upon hearing this news, Selkar at once set out to care for Ariannia and ease her grieving for her lost husband. Selkar journeyed for days and upon reaching the door of Ariannia's cottage he collapsed, such was the haste of his journey.
    Soon Selkar was able to nurse Ariannia back to health and together they found that she herself was a healer of great skill, if only she set her mind to it. So 'ere a year passed, the two had been growing close and fell in love. Selkar vowed to care for his beloved brothers wife in any way he could until his dying day. And he solidified this vow in marriage.
    The present day finds them still in search of the great dwarven ruins of Khalaza. Selkar has traced his line as far back as current records allow, and has determined that his ancestors held positions in court among the line of Khazi Khazar and he is now more determined than ever to find this wonderous place, with his wife Ariannia at his side.
 

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Nox Scion'oDark

    I am  from a minor family where I was raised far to the east. My maternal family raised me from birth though being of mixed lineage, I am something of a "black sheep" amid my village. My father, a brother to a learned cleric who roams the lands known as Elanthia, was a pragmatic man. Always on the move for adventure. I've not known much of him except through my uncle since I have come to Wehnimers' Landing.
    I've come among the races because I seek to know more of my father and myself. To learn and to teach what I learn. I have found that the gain of physical prowess isnt much different from the gain of knowledge; there is always something new to learn and someone new to learn from. Always have I been a student of the nature of beings. I found in my growth that had an exceptional talent with a blade.
    My family, always intuitive, sought to enrich that talent (possibly with some foresight that I might one day strike out on my own) Along my path that led me here, I have met many who would be masters of their given professions who at the same time did not wish to impart that knowledge for one reason or another.
    I found that realization rather sad. Because to become famous or powerful, what better thing to do than to teach what you have learned so your legacy will not die when you pass from these lands?
 

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Tanzra Actrai

    My brother and I were born in the Landing many years ago.  My brother was a Wizard's apprentice, and I was in training to be a Warrior.
    When we were both in our 5th year of training, some Troll Kings tried to invade the town.  We fought with the townspeople to knock them back from the town.  During the invasion however, my brother reached for one of his
wands.  He accidentally grabbed a quartz rod which was empty of majik, and was killed.
    For the years since then, its been my life to fight in invasions and to one day revenge my brother's death at the hands of Troll Kings.   And every year on the day of his death, I travel to the Temple of Lorminstra in Solhaven and remember my only brother.
    Some time after his death, I found a young girl unconcious in a ravine. She had bad wounds about her body.  Having found her home, I took her to her mother and found that her mother was even worse off with a deadly and uncurable disease.  I did what I could to heal her daughter and to make her final days as comfortable as possible.  Before she died, she had me promise to take care of her daughter and younger sister after she was gone.
    So, with my word kept, I have raised them.  They look upon me as their father and I have raised them as best as I could, letting them choose their own paths in life.  They both decided to follow their mother's footsteps and learn the ways or sorcery.  To this day they nag me about my deeds to Lorminstra and other such trivial things.
 

Gliff Dinkrock

My history ain’t very exciting.  I was raised as a fiter up in Icemule, bloody cold town!  After I was done with me apprenticeship I did whatever jobs I could find, gotta pay for that ale!  After a year or so I got sick of dat bloody snow, and them pointy-ears always scrapin’ a few silvers off the pay, so I said “bugger off”, grabbed a mug for the road, and set off for someplace warmer with better grog and REAL women!  Bah, barely any stubble on ‘em up dere!
 

Shayen Aezereth

I was orphaned in Icemule, starving and wandering the snowy streets in but a filthy yellow dress. It was there I met my first love and a bit later my new mother. From my love at the time I learned much of how conceit can turn a person sour. To me he was funny and loving but he had little patience for anyone else. From my mother, Berylla I learned kindness, strength and a sense of what a family truly is. I also had the advice of many stout warriors from which to shape my professional goals. Nothing much beats sitting and listening to hardened veterans dispense advice and stories!  After receiving a few harsh lessons of life and love, mom and I moved south for warmer climes and hearts- the Landing. I have fairly much remained there and in River's Rest ever since. I was poor when I was adopted and I fear I shall be a popper my whole life. I cannot stand to see folks unhappy for the lack of a few coins and nothing is more rewarding to me than a good overtipping or a well timed gift! I have never and will never hurt another citizen, I have seen the trouble that such can bring. I will go to great lengths to help those who ask for help. My parents have of late gone to the Elven lands and I have felt their absence most dearly. While I still have a bit of family left here and a loving fiancé, I still feel the need for more kinsmanship.
 
 
 
 

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