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QUARION

Level 1 Elf Rogue

 Not blessed with the greatest strength, I was fortunate to possess the typical Elven intelligence and above average agility.  This nimbleness also helped me escape many a situation that my rashness and lack of Elven tact would put me in.  All in all I was your typical free-spirited Elf, spending my days working with sword and bow and practicing the art of Elven magic.

 For a young elf, life was grand in the seclusion of the elven communities southeast of Sylvanhyme.  The harsh reality of the outside world seldom made it's presence known, until...

 One fateful day, I returned home to find my life utterly changed.  The bodies of my dead parents were prominently displayed in front of the burned husk of my former home.  Several members of the community watch were busy investigating the scene, but I stood frozen in my tracks.  I still shudder to this day to think of the treachery I beheld.

 Ah yes, treachery.  For months following their deaths, rumors of an "Inside Job" whispered like the wind among those that are prone to gossiping.  My elder grandfather, who was now my sole guardian, tried to keep me busy with my studies, so as not to dwell on the subject.  But how could I not.  The rumors, whether real or imagined at this stage, seemed always swirling about me.  It was more than I could bear.

 Much to my grandfather's dismay, I needed to get away, even if only for a short while.  He desperately wished that I stay and continue my wizardly studies, but were I to obey, I would surely go mad.  So I set off in search of a place to disappear.  To forget about my Elven brothers and blend into the crowd.  In an odd bit of irony, that place turned out to be Keath.  The city that was once the site of the greatest Elven massacre, was now the perfect place for an elf to escape.

 I managed to blend in well enough with the half-elven population, at first mingling with the more elven looking ones, but later becoming more adept at just being unrecognized.  I made my living in those years in a variety of ways.  During the good times, my skill as a Calligrapher and artist kept me well nourished. if not even a little wealthy.  Unfortunately, there were more bad times than good.  In some ways these were the best times.

 My fantastic dexterity and nimbleness well prepared me for the less than honorable tasks that were necessary to survive.  It wasn't long before I discovered the small thieves' guild and was initiated into their ranks.  Mastering the skills of hiding, picking pockets, opening locks, and disabling traps opened up a whole new world, literally.  However, the temptation to take more than was necessary was becoming too great.  As my conscience began to catch up with me, the guild noticed my drop in "productivity". 

I could see that it would soon be time to move again.

 I wonder how my grandfather is doing...