Mirev Back-story Like some of my people I was born from plant. I am the last life force it produced; its will is within me, forever tying me to nature, but my people, the fellow wilden raised me as their own. We are a community, or at least we were. One night while I was still young our homes were invaded, our forest burned to ashes, our people slaughtered. In the midst of the chaos and bloodshed I and a few others of my age were ordered to run by our elders. Frightened children lost in all the destruction did only what we could: we obeyed. At first we stayed together; we acted as we had in our community looking out for one another, but one after the other my kindred were enslaved, or murdered on the spot and ultimately only I escaped the madness, the terror. I spent a year wandering from place to place, always staying to the outskirts of anywhere; only talking when a bargain for my survival demanded such, until the day he approached me. Alexander, a monk, just out for business in the town closest to his temple had spotted me just watching the people from the edge of the surrounding forest. I do not know what it was he saw. A possible threat, a wild animal, crazed lunatic maybe or a pitiful young wilden starving his existence away. The fact remains though that in the end he had chose to train me. He took me back to his temple; he placed his head on the chopping block by claiming me under his full responsibility and for this I will be eternally grateful, a debt that I will never be made able to pay because after four short years my nightmare returned. They again set fire to my home, slaughtering parents and children alike. This time though I was not just a frightened child unable to think for my self so when I awoke to the disaster of the reality around me I quickly went off to find Alexander. There was fire everywhere, the air was blackened with smoke and bodies had littered the ground. One by one I would check their faces praying to Melora my god that Alexander would not be among them, but even she could not provide me with that miracle. His body was covered in blood, but the wound was in his back. He was murdered when trying to help hide or heal his friends, his family. With this truth now found I knew my time was up, I had to run or I too would fall to the cruelty of these monsters. So I leaned down for one last moment to kiss my mentor, my father, on his forehead and then I took his necklace to forever remember him (Lucky Charm: Magical Item level 4). Then I fled, again. This time I did not just hide on the edge of civilization, I sought out training, anything that could promise strength so that I may be able to defend myself or anyone I may later call family from those creatures of destruction. That is how I found myself studying at yet another temple training to be what they called an Avenger. With the discipline I had acquired from my monk training I was able to quickly advance through the ranks. After only two years I was caught up to students who had trained since age seven or below. Though my potential was great and my studies progressed fast I was still a new member, so I was still given the menial tasks and errands. I had found my self returning one night from a trip that took three days to complete to a temple of crumbled rock and desecrated corpses; I again had met the bloodlust of these monsters. Was it bad luck that drew them to me or fate? I chose to believe the latter, but I refused to believe that the death of my companions was the only way and I have made it my mission to find others who could eventually help me put an end to the ongoing massacre my life has become. So for a year I wandered from town to town, forest to forest, until one day I had stopped at an inn. There was a magician of sorts; she went by the name of Ahruara. Anytime I would approach her to ask of her skills, she blew it off as illusions, or tricks of the eye. Her words were convincing, but I just couldn’t find myself to leave. So I made camp in the woods near the edge of town and have frequently visited the inn this past month to watch her perform and every time I see it I forget that it is just illusion and tricks, but I stopped pestering her. She wasn’t going to change her story and I saw no reason to push the matter with no truth of fact behind it. Her lies felt so real that I began to believe that she herself thought she held no true power.
