Seven years. Has it really been that long? It seems like just yesterday Aladorai was living in the Kaer he grew up in. It would be seven years to the day that the once large, now small, settlement of Tilidar was formed and first celebrated their emergence from their Kaer. Now the Kaer is nothing more than a layered set of catacombs used to bury the dead.

Although he had grown up in the Kaer, Aladorai had the natural Elven instinct to despise living underground. And he’ll be damned if he ever has to live in one again. Even more despising was having to live amongst so many dwarves, greedy for their own self-gratification and riches. Sure, there were the humans, too, but most of them were too ignorant and selfish to associate with. Aladorai had learned quickly from his parents that humans were an interesting lot, ones not easily trusted. It is something most elves feel anyway, but something Tristan’s family had experienced first-hand. One particular experience was that of Naran, a human adept experienced in the ways of the Troubadour which at first seemed intriguing to Aladorai. There were few who studied the ways of the Troubadour and therefore few opportunities to get familiar with their Discipline.

He was welcomed as a friend as he lived next door, and would often help assist Aladorai’s mother, Adowynn, when she needed it and while Aladorai’s father would be at work, helping with repairs along the Kaer’s inner structure. It was when Naran tried to take advantage of the trust he had earned from Adowynn and Aladorai’s father by trying to kiss Adowynn that the family felt betrayed. The truth was revealed that it was Naran’s intentions from the start, that he had always had this hidden agenda.

And then there were the humans that were about the same age as Aladorai, especially during his teenage years. They would show deep belief in a Passion, even so much as to partake in the worship, but then the rest of the week they would be heartless bastards, mistreating those around them. So many of them seemed to have two faces. Naran was proof of that, as were those Aladorai grew up with.

There was one, however, that seemed different than the rest. His name was Tristan. Tristan had been a true friend to Aladorai, establishing his faith and confidence that not all humans are alike. He was his friend, and his mentor. Tristan saw much potential in a young Aladorai and offered training in the path of the Swordmaster. Through his relationship with Tristan, Aladorai gained the sort of confidence and sometimes a bit of arrogance (although that could just be his elvish nature) that he was better than everyone else.

Aladorai had once seen Tristan practicing outside of his dwelling, in a space reserved solely for training. Being a human, Aladorai did not pay much attention at first. But then he noticed something very intriguing. When Tristan was fighting, it was more like a show…like a graceful dance. Instead of brunt force and full-blown attacks, his were Charismatic. This intrigued Aladorai to the point of researching the way of the Swordmaster and found even more interesting things about this way of life. In particular were some Elvish Swordmasters who had lived before him, participating in tournaments and putting on performances for the Royal Courts.

It didn’t take much. Aladorai was hooked, and began to imitate what he had seen from Tristan. Outside of his dwelling, away from view, Aladorai would practice. He fell in love with the sword and the way it felt as he swung it, felling each imaginary foe after a lengthy battle while exchanging wits. It was on the way home from the central food-storage area that Tristan heard the young teenager giving, but not receiving, witty remarks. A quick peek around the corner and Tristan could see the boy imitating some of the shadow fighting that Tristan had done. And what a good imitator he was. His form was a little off, but the movements were all there. Tristan could tell that the boy must have been studying Tristan hard while he practiced, and therefore offered to train him.

There was reluctance from Aladorai’s father to have a Human train his son, especially after the betrayal of Noran who his son found entertaining at a younger age as he practiced his Troubadour songs amongst the family. But Aladorai insisted, and his father agreed. From there, a strong relationship between teacher and student began.

“Tristan, what has become of you my friend?” Aladorai wondered to himself. It wasn’t long after emerging from the Kaer that many groups of Adepts insisted on traveling the lands. Tristan was one of them. Aladorai had wanted to go with, but Tristan insisted that Aladorai had much to practice and accomplish before he could make his mark on the world. He suggested that Aladorai continue to work hard on his discipline, and eventually he would find his own way of dancing with the sword.

“One day, you will find me and have your own view of the Swordmaster,” Tristan had said. “Once you obtain this personal view, and master it, then you will have found the true ways of the Swordmaster. Training solely under me will only hinder you in this way. You must find how others treat their Discipline before you will fully understand what path it is you want to follow.” Aladorai felt a bit betrayed by being left behind, but after dwelling on what Tristan had said he quickly began to understand. He did need to find his own view on the Swordmaster. Up until now, most of what he did was what he had learned from Tristan’s way of the Discipline. But where to start? He had heard about the tournaments of Travar, which sounded very intriguing. But only skilled Swordmasters would be able to attend those. What about the Kingdom of Throal? Tristan had mentioned that many Swordmasters can be found in largely populated cities, and the Throal Kingdom should provide ample ground to find such a trainer. But he also had to challenge himself, and he wouldn’t be able to do that by staying at the settlement.

Aladorai continued to train and remain somewhat isolated from the rest of the settlement. He has waited for the opportune time to join up with a group of adventurers and explore the world, if nothing else but for to continue on with his training and become a great Swordmaster, one noteworthy in legends.

But everyone who wished to leave has already done so. None have returned, either. One that was among them of particular interest to Aladorai was a an Elven girl named ‘Shylin’. “Ah, ‘Shylin’,” the elf thought to himself. “The art of Swordmastery has no comparison next to your beauty. Had I met you sooner in life, I don’t know that I ever would have felt the need to pursue anything else in life. Now my blade is all that keeps me going.”

The two had lived in the Kaer all their lives, but had only met each other shortly before the Kaer doors were opened. That short time was all that was necessary. They had met briefly during the Kaer’s annual celebration where high circle Illusionists would cast amazing displays of fireworks and shows that lighted up the entire dwelling. Among all the beauty of the illusions he spotted her, fearing she was an illusion herself. She smiled at him, and his heart nearly dropped to the floor. Her smile was magic, and in that moment all of the other magic around him seemed to have slowed down to dead-stop.

Aladorai courted her as often as he could, even as much as to miss his training sessions with Tristan. Luckily, Tristan was not a complete stranger to the feelings of love and excused the young elf to wrestle with his emotions and find where his true passions lied. A Swordmaster needs more than just a love for the dance. He needs other things in life, as well, and Shylin seemed to be just the thing to fill that void in Aladorai’s life.

For the next few months, they seemed to have shared a lifetime. He was in love with her, and she was in love with him. But soon, he was going to realize just how short of a time it truly had been. “Damn those doors for opening. I hate the Kaer, but I hate being without Shylin even more. Had the doors never opened, I’d still be with her.”

After the doors opened and only a short time later, Shylin’s father insisted on returning to their homeland to see what’s become of it. They ventured off with one of the first adventuring groups. Shylin didn’t want to leave, but she had an obligation to her father and younger siblings as the care-taker of the home (her mother died after battling a rare plague sickness for many years, inflicted on her after drinking some water from a small basin that was thought to be pure). “I will always be waiting for you, Aladorai. If you ever manage to leave Tilidar, come find me in my homeland of Eladonar. I will try to return on my own if I am able.”

“She’s probably long forgotten about me,” Aladorai often thinks to himself. Even if he could seek after her, it’s been years and Aladorai has little money to invest in his own excursion and knows that there are far too many dangers to venture out on his own. So patiently he waits, hoping for an opportunity that will allow him to set forth and pursue his other dreams. Maybe he might come across the lightly pink skinned beauty he started to fall in love with. Then again, maybe it would be too difficult to see her now, knowing full well she’s probably moved on with her life.

As Aladorai pictures Shylin, he picks up his blade and begins the dance of the Swordmaster. As he begins his dance, he suddenly realizes who he is performing for. “Shylin…I realize that I no longer do this just for the love of the blade. I do this for the love I have for you…, and picture you every time I fight. When I dance with my blade, it is not truly my blade I am dancing with. It is you…

“The sword in my hand is your hand in mine. The gracefulness and elegance I show with the blade is you, dancing in my arms. Each time I fight, I fight for you, defending you from the horrors and evils of the world.”

Tristan would be proud of his student, for he has found his vision of the Swordmaster.

Two weeks ago, a caravan came through Tilidar to rest up and stock up before continuing onward to Travar. Having overheard where the caravan was headed, Aladorai quickly offered his services to help assist in any way, for free if he had to, to be able to travel along with the caravan. He has finally arrived, with barely a silver to his name, to begin exploring the lands of Barsaive and begin to make a name for himself in the books of legends.

Aladorai was an only child, in part because there were strict rules on how many children could be born within the Kaer. Shylin’s siblings were somewhat of an exception, being that her father had something of a high social status within certain circles. All other mothers who had born their second child had to go through an excruciatingly painful blood magic ritual to ensure they could not bear anymore children. Aladorai’s father did not want his wife to go through that ordeal, so they simply made every conscious effort to avoid having more children.

His mother and father are both alive, and feel strongly supportive towards Aladorai’s desire to leave, despite fearing the dangers of the world. In a way they see Aladorai’s passions as a rite of passage, one that needs to be fulfilled. They, too, would like to someday venture back to their homeland, but Aladorai’s mother is disabled and such a trek would require far too much effort given the risks and concerns that there are still many dangers lurking in the world.

Aladorai has sworn to return home with wealth to provide to his family, although it may not necessarily be the end of his adventures when he does so. If he does manage to make it out of the settlement, he will try to find a way to send money home as encouragement to his father and mother that he is making his way in the world. He has a special relationship with his parents, especially being the only child, and wouldn’t want to ever completely be detached from them.

As for his personality, he is confident in his abilities which can sometimes be mistaken for arrogance. He doesn’t care for dwarves although he tolerates them just fine (having lived amongst them, of course). He does trust humans, but only after they have earned it through countless efforts. He is under the belief that a human would have to save your life 2-3 times, before he can be counted a friend and fully trusted. Or earn your trust 10 times over the normal amount, as Tristan did.

Aladorai can be reserved at times, coming across as a bit shy in social settings. However, once Aladorai has assessed the situation and is certain of a few things, he will start to come across as more social and charismatic that one might have thought at first. Still, he is cautious and sometimes let’s others in the group blurt things out before he’ll speak his mind (unless he feels too strongly about a subject).

As mentioned earlier, Aladorai has a strong desire to be a great Swordmaster, one that would make Tristan, his father, his mother and even Shylin, wherever she may be, proud.. Tournaments are too hard to resist, and if he were to ever find one he would likely train twice as hard to be able to compete in one.