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"I find little solitude in this life. What happiness I find - brief as it may be - I always try and embrace, never to lose hope. But in the end, it always seems to fail me, no matter how hard I try."
~Lorias Laerlonde
PRELUDE
...As a child I never knew who my real parents were. I am a wood elf raised by a human foster father. He was an evil man, and to many, crazed in his own mind. Kaladar was his name, and he was a necromancer of Velsharoon. He lead a cult of necromancers...their identity was so vile and secretive that he did not even reveal the name of his band to me, his own son. Growing up with him was painful at best, and not a day passed by that I did not want to stick a dagger through his chest. However, one day he and his cultists went too far.
They kidnapped an innocent baby and were to sacrifice it to their God. I did not know from whom I received my morality, but I could not find the heart to watch them slay such an innocent being. So in the middle of the night I snuck away silently, with the babe in my arms. Surely they were clever bastards, and soon enough found out about my escape. They pursued me deep into the Neverwinter Woods, wanting nothing more than to add me to their sacrifice list. I was a swift runner and saw through the eyes of an elf, but even with this I could not outrun them due to their powerful scrying magics. So with little choice left I hid the babe in a barn behind a small hut, and covered my tracks leading there. I then ran off in the opposite direction, so that they would not know where the infant truly was.
With blind luck I stumbled out of the western border of the forest and came upon a small farm. I was weary, hungry, and afraid. However, the farmer who owned the place along with his wife invited me into their abode, seeing as how restless and weak I was. The Gods must have pittied me, for after dinner, the three of us had a talk and the two farmers decided to let me stay at the farm and help them. As time passed by, I slowly became more than just a worker. I became their son. I cared deeply for the two farmers, and they cared deeply for me. I had thought that at last life was good, until one night disaster struck yet again.
I went out to gather firewood when I returned a little late. Before mine eyes the whole farm had burned down. I threw down the wood and ran inside the burning hut to find my parents, but my new father was already dead, and my mother was well on her way. I kneeled down and took her in my arms, weeping like a babe. She held my hand and looked deep into my eyes. She told me to never lose heart and never to lose faith. With that, she gave me her only possession - a medallion of Chauntea - then closed her eyes, never to open them again.
I buried my parents in a beautiful grove nearby, and said many prayers that lonely night. After much crying and bitter rage, I gathered my belongings - a longsword, a bow, and the precious medallion my foster mother gave to me, and left the farm vowing never to look back. I also swore to myself never to attach emotionally to another being again. For I knew that the source of the death of my parents were attributed to the necromancers, as they left their insignia upon the ground in blood. I confine myself only because I know that whoever I was close to, that they would certainly kill next, no matter where on Faerun that may be.
And so it was I left my home yet again. This time, I travelled as far north as I could, arriving at a place known as Sundren, and wanting so badly to leave the sad tale of my cursed life behind. But I knew I could not, not as long as Kaladar still lived. However, before I left I also made another vow. I swore that I would learn the art of swordplay, so that one day I could stop running. When my skills are sufficient, I shall seek out Kaladar and slay him for all he has done. Not only for his evil and heinous crimes, but to put the souls of my beloved parents to rest. It is a most difficult trial that I must face, but it is one in which I cannot deny.
~Lorias Laerlonde
PRELUDE
...As a child I never knew who my real parents were. I am a wood elf raised by a human foster father. He was an evil man, and to many, crazed in his own mind. Kaladar was his name, and he was a necromancer of Velsharoon. He lead a cult of necromancers...their identity was so vile and secretive that he did not even reveal the name of his band to me, his own son. Growing up with him was painful at best, and not a day passed by that I did not want to stick a dagger through his chest. However, one day he and his cultists went too far.
They kidnapped an innocent baby and were to sacrifice it to their God. I did not know from whom I received my morality, but I could not find the heart to watch them slay such an innocent being. So in the middle of the night I snuck away silently, with the babe in my arms. Surely they were clever bastards, and soon enough found out about my escape. They pursued me deep into the Neverwinter Woods, wanting nothing more than to add me to their sacrifice list. I was a swift runner and saw through the eyes of an elf, but even with this I could not outrun them due to their powerful scrying magics. So with little choice left I hid the babe in a barn behind a small hut, and covered my tracks leading there. I then ran off in the opposite direction, so that they would not know where the infant truly was.
With blind luck I stumbled out of the western border of the forest and came upon a small farm. I was weary, hungry, and afraid. However, the farmer who owned the place along with his wife invited me into their abode, seeing as how restless and weak I was. The Gods must have pittied me, for after dinner, the three of us had a talk and the two farmers decided to let me stay at the farm and help them. As time passed by, I slowly became more than just a worker. I became their son. I cared deeply for the two farmers, and they cared deeply for me. I had thought that at last life was good, until one night disaster struck yet again.
I went out to gather firewood when I returned a little late. Before mine eyes the whole farm had burned down. I threw down the wood and ran inside the burning hut to find my parents, but my new father was already dead, and my mother was well on her way. I kneeled down and took her in my arms, weeping like a babe. She held my hand and looked deep into my eyes. She told me to never lose heart and never to lose faith. With that, she gave me her only possession - a medallion of Chauntea - then closed her eyes, never to open them again.
I buried my parents in a beautiful grove nearby, and said many prayers that lonely night. After much crying and bitter rage, I gathered my belongings - a longsword, a bow, and the precious medallion my foster mother gave to me, and left the farm vowing never to look back. I also swore to myself never to attach emotionally to another being again. For I knew that the source of the death of my parents were attributed to the necromancers, as they left their insignia upon the ground in blood. I confine myself only because I know that whoever I was close to, that they would certainly kill next, no matter where on Faerun that may be.
And so it was I left my home yet again. This time, I travelled as far north as I could, arriving at a place known as Sundren, and wanting so badly to leave the sad tale of my cursed life behind. But I knew I could not, not as long as Kaladar still lived. However, before I left I also made another vow. I swore that I would learn the art of swordplay, so that one day I could stop running. When my skills are sufficient, I shall seek out Kaladar and slay him for all he has done. Not only for his evil and heinous crimes, but to put the souls of my beloved parents to rest. It is a most difficult trial that I must face, but it is one in which I cannot deny.
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