My memories of the earliest days are vague, but happy ones. I have no memory of my parents... at least those that gave life to me. The woman to which I think back upon as my mother was a soft speaking Erudite woman with a voice that, as I often thought of it, could call down the angels themselves. The man I looked to as my father was an eligant and kind hearted half-elf. I remember him as being something of a prankster, and very giving. I had two older "sisters", Rena and Yurial. They were always very protective of me, as my memory recalls it. Of course, I was very young at that time. I had no idea how strange my "family" was. Even the little village we lived in gave me no clue, as there were many such mixed families... even though I was the only one who was obviously not "born" into any of them. I remember the village laying at the edge of the ocean, with a mysticle forest surrounding it on three sides. Many homes were even built in the forest itself. In fact, I remember one home, some ways in the forest, was made as if grown from the tree it was part of. An old wood elf gentalman lived in that home. He didn't talk with many people, but he and my father were friends, so I often went with my father to visit the man. I have a memory of a time the old wood elf showed me how he could make vines grow and wrap themselves around the tree. I remember the leaves seemed to glow a little, making the place seem just a little brighter. My best memory of those day, however, is that of a small pond not far from my own home. I would go there as often as I could to watch the ducks. I loved the ducks! They didn't have the prettiest colors, but I loved to watch them swim together, and bob their heads in and out of the water, while their stubby tail feathers ruffled in the winds coming through the trees. On occasion I even brought some bread from town to feed the little ducks... a small gnomish lady had a warm and inviting bakery in the center of the village. It's funny. I don't remember why I became so enthrawled with the ducks at that pond, but, still, to this day, I have a fondness for ducks. But the paradise I called home, so many years ago, came to an end one day. I don't even really recall what happened. I was playing by the pond when my mother came rushing over to me and grabbed my hand, urging me to run with her, which, naturally, I did. As she lead me through the village, I remember seeing the people all hurrying to get somewhere. Not everyone was going in the same direction, but most, like myself, were heading to the docks. When we got to one of the docked boats, my mother picked me up... I still have a vision of the sunlight glistening off her smooth, silver hands... I also remember her hands were trembling. She handed me off to a large, well build man, who then carried me on the ship. I know I screamed for her, as I was being carried away. I also remember looking for my father, and my sisters after the big man let me down. But I was alone. A ship filled with many people from my village, but I was alone. It was the first time I actually remember feeling that way. The boat left the village, and out to sea. I watched as my home became nothing more than a memory over the horizon. And still, that day didn't end. The further out the boat sailed, the choppier the waters became, until we were in the middle of a huge storm. Ice cold rail contrasting against the huge bolts of bright lighting pelted the decks and upper levels of the boat. The crew fighting wind and sail to keep the boat on course. I was freezing. I was still only wearing the light clothing I had on that day. Even my Kerra fur was of little use. And then a large wave came over the boat, as if the gods themselves were striking at us. The boat tipped over... I lost my footing and started to slip into the, now, black ocean, like so many others. The waters grabbed at me and pulled me under. I could not breath. Blackness surrounded me. I woke some time later... most likely quite a lot of time later... to the crashing of waves on a nearby beach and the call of soaring gulls in the air, a to the sound of a young womans voice. "Come on, small one. Wake up... wake up." She was elvish, with flowing blond hair and a mild, weathered tan. She was smiling as she looked down at me with her soft emerald eyes. "There we are," she said. "Glad to see you made it. Welcome to Refuge Island." I looked around the shambles of a tent, the light from the outside streaming in the opening in the front. My first reaction was to call out for my family. My mother, my father, my sisters. As I frantically looked from one corner to the other, wishing above all that this, and the boat ride before, was nothing more than a horrible nightmare, the elvish woman laid her hands gentally upon mine and as I started to cry, the fear and loose overwelming me, she took me to her breast, comforting me, telling me everything would be ok. I look back knowing that if it wasn't for her, I would not have been able to survive those first few years on Refuge Island. Her name was Surina. It wasn't until two years later I started learning the was of a mage. While, as I learned, this wasn't the natural path of my kind, I felt a desire to follow in the path of many of those of my old village. It was... it is, I suppose, one way of keeping them in my heart. Six years later, having explored most of Refuge Island, and having heard many a story from the constant comings and goings of all the lost wanderers of the world, I desided it was time I headed to Qeynos to continue my education. In the deepest corners of my heart I even had... and in many ways still do... held the deepest hope to maybe see others from my village... my "family". Maybe they're still out there, lost and adrift like I had been. Maybe that will never happen. The hope keeps me going. The hope... and all of the friends I meet.
