Glunk Elfbane

The beginning of my life was simple enough, if not exciting. I was born on a small island off the coast of Reshalia, small enough that no one had bothered to waste the ink to put it on any map. The main activity on the island was fishing, in and around the normal tasks of day to day life, and no one could claim any kind of wealth. Rude shanties and salt-stained shacks housed the population, one ancient ferry boat providing passage to the city of Ratha on the main island of Qi.

I surmise that like the other inhabitants of the island, my parents were not rich. They survived by fishing and selling the results of their efforts in the marketplace. I know they had a small skiff, that much I do remember, young as I was. When they would go out they would bring me along to keep an eye on me while they fished, wrapping me in a rough burlap tabard to keep me warm (I didn't realize until much later the black stitching formed the emblem of Everild), and tucked into an oversized basket.

One terrible day we were in that small skiff, and my parents were fishing. My memory of this is vague, as might be expected, but a storm came up out of nowhere. The boat was tossed among the waves, rocking dangerously until it overturned. Distantly, I recall the sickening crack of bone against wood, my parents sinking into the cold depths to drown, alone and unheard over the sound of the storm.

Forunately the basket I was tucked into remained afloat, tossed endlessly in the madly shifting waves. Loss and exhaustion finally claimed me, and I slept, to awaken to a bright light in my eyes. It was the sun. And then, a shadow moved in front of the light. It was an Elven woman who's features I could not make out, shadowed as they were. But her hair was long and wild, cascading down around her shoulders in an unruly mass.

She lifted me gently, pausing to check if there was anything else in the basket, then returned to her room at a nearby Inn. Dazed as I was by these events, I recognized that I was in Ratha, and by the state of her room, that she was a visitor to these parts. I tried to explain to her what had happened to me, but I was still scared and confused. The telling was not easy, and my speech was halting and broken.

She left me with her female companion and her daughter, mentioning something about a search. Her companion made sure of my comfort as best she could while her daughter seemed more curious than anything. Many hours later the Elven woman returned, a stricken look on her perfect features... well, perfect for an Elf.

She took me home with her, and raised me as her own. Her daughter, also an orphan she had taken in, became my sister. Though not by blood, we were now family by virtue of love, luck and circumstance. While my sister immersed herself in studies of the magical arts, I had no particular interest in such, and found myself drawn instead to finely honed steel and fighting.

As soon as I was old enough, I set out to join the Barbarian Guild, for I would never be a simple farmer or fisherman. I vowed then as well that I would die an honorable death, not one of misfortune. I would not lose my life as my parents had, grubbing for a few coins made from the fruits of an uncaring sea, and ultimately finding a watery grave beneath its restless surface.

My new mother didn't quite understand either of us, but was not one to interfere with the calling of our hearts, and so accepted our respective decisions and was always there for me when I needed her, or for my sister.