Neth, while human, has slightly elven features. His body is slender and the skin around his eyes is somewhat slanty. His gray eyes are fairly beady and his low weight is akin to an elf's.

I have learned to hate life. Until you have been pursued and watched always, you shant know what I mean. My father was a grand Wizard and mother a Druid and both were elves. (My mother was really half-elf but concealed her humanity well. If my father ever doubted my mother's elvishness, he didn't make me privy to it.) I am human because my great grandmother was, and my struggle is largely her fault. My name is Neth Gigol and I am a Sorcerer.

My parents' marriage lasted almost solely from their love of magic and honor of elven tradition. I suspect my father soon found out my mother's heritage, but stayed with her regardless. I was left alone as a child to play with 'toys' my father gave me in the form of seemingly harmless magical devices, like boxes that projected illusionary playmates. Magic was inevitable to me, and I realized this early in life. My two older sisters, also elves, inherited elven arrogance coupled with social sibling rivalry, and, thusly, resented me greatly. I cared little for them in kind. I was alone in my family, and I hated it.

My father tried to love me, but his elven eyes interfered. His attempts at kindness, such as having me follow the path of Wizardry or be disowned, went over poorly. Worse off, I was simultaneously his shame and trophy as I had inherited his intelligence and my great-grandmother's health and charm. He used his powers to contain and test me, trying futily to make me more elven. I read thick volumes in days, learned languages in weeks, and, yet, I did almost all the menial work in my father's business. He was a professional Wizard that entertained nobles, adventurers, and extraplanar beings rich enough to afford his services; however, most of our family's income came from his custom-order magic shop. Rarely did he make non-magical equipment that he did not enchant, though I suspect those things were also trophies. Our 'home,' a term I use loosely as it was a magically-formed mansion in the midst of an human and elven region, and was lined with his trophies, though I was mostly locked inside, usually to be let out to deal with the mostly-human customers. Since I was so eager to get away, I learned everything I could about human interaction We were wealthy enough that none of us had to work in the next century; however, every day he was off somewhere practicing his love. My mother and sisters were too busy preserving nature and keeping things in balance in the prime material that, the few days a month they were home, they didn't notice anything wrong.

Meanwhile, my innate powers surfaced. Initially, my father thought I'd misused his things and punished me.by turning me to stone for a day. When I told him that I had been practicing magic as a way of continuing the family line, he shrugged and went back to crafting. I didn't tell him my source was innate and not through the volumes upon volumes that made up the library. So long as I kept showing off my spells at a rate he liked, I wasn't punished. He even smiled at me thrice after cleverly using Prestidigitation. Unfortunately, my magical growth stunted. My father was furious. His grand intelligence lacked logic enough to realize that I have no century to practice magic before being offically declared ready. I fast-talked him into believing that being constantly exposed to magic hampered my development. In a seeming moment of sanity, he became calm, handed me a sack with my things, some gold, and teleported me into the world.

I was shocked; maybe fate had wanted me to wait so long; maybe I was to learn that courage beats cowardice; maybe I had to realize that I had to act on my plans instead of relying on hopeful misery. Maybe I had overestimated the situation's difficulty, but my mind turned to more immediate matters.

I didn't know where I was nor where to go, but I went somewhere. I finally wondered how old I was. Having been born into a family of elves, I was extremely disoriented. After a day following a dirt road, I came to a human village. Despite having some social grace lessons years ago, I was nervous to approach strangers. A small, dark-faced boy came to me, screaming, then hugged my leg. I felt... happy, I think. I had done nothing, yet this child came to me. Why? I didn't understand the child's words, but a woman, probably his mother, walked slowly behind him and spoke to me.

"Are you.... Richard?"

"No, Miss. Why did you ask, Miss?"

"You look just like him, if only shorter. I thought.... I thought... nevermind, sir. I'm sorry to-"

"Was he your husband, Miss?"

"Yes."

I looked at the child, then to her. "Is he your son?"

"Yes."

"What happened to your husband?"

"Bandits attacked the town and captured him. I thought he'd escaped, but, no. I... I would like you to stay for dinner. You look pale."

"Yes, Miss."

She nodded at the boy, and he ran home.

"Come."

We ate dinner quickly and began talking.

"Why did you come here?"

"I did not intend to do so, Miss-"

"Please, call me Mable."

"Mable, then, I was wandering in the woods, became lost, and found a road that lead to your village."

"Where are you from? You seem... strange."

"I know not."

"Did you hit your head?"

"No, Mable." I told her my story in as much detail as I thought would help. She merely sighed and winced as I spoke.

"Will you.... Will you stand in.... for my dead Richard?"

I agreed, knowing no better. "Thank you."

My stay in that village named Virind was short-lived. The old widow died the next year and her son just left one day. People mourned them, but were indifferent to me. My welcome was over.

I returned to the road and found trouble. One night after I had made camp and lit a fire, I heard sounds of something walking heavily through the bushes and I braced for impact. I covered myself with a mundane brown cloak and pulled the hood to cover my face.

Ancestral Relic Sacrificial Contributions:

-=Deposits=-

750: Summon Monster III Scroll x2

-=Withdrawls=-

350: Masterwork Greatsword

Total Balance/Allowed: 0/4500