Molachi Nevyrmore
Wood Elf Warrior
Not sure where to start,so bear with me and I will do my best to give you an insight into my history,one that I am still coming to terms with even as the ink dries on the paper before me.I don't remember much of my first years of youth,mother having been on the move all the time,both of us living city to city,sometimes living in the wild.I knew I was of wood elven descent,but not much did I know of my people,and when I asked mother about our kind,she would lapse into silence,angry notes spilling from her fingers on the strings of her gypsy lute.I could sense a terrible rage inside her,and I knew it was best not to press the issue.One thing she did impart to me was the use of steel,a gift that I continued to hone to its utmost all my life even to this day.The druidic life did not appeal to me,nor the ways of the ranger.I found them too restricting,and the reliance on gods I found to be frelling distasteful.I would bow to no one.I saw no use for the gods,well maybe one,that being the healing arts that I will be forever grateful for.I worship no god exept the steel in my hands and that is the only god I follow. Later on I ended up living most of my life amongst the halflings of Riverdale under the watchful eye of a close friend of my mother,and it was during those years that I grew to love the diminutive folk,admiring thier ways with the land and the closeness of family that they exibited.I longed for such a closeness,something that my mother couldn't give.I don't blame her,knowing what I know now of her past,and through her freinds here in Riverdale I have found the family that I never had. I know this is short,but some things are best left to one's self..