3. Yaervan

Yaervan


  • Yaervan Of Woods

    _A rainy autumn day, a sleek form silently moving trough the southern Rawlinswood. And a strange noise that pierces the otherwise peaceful song of the trees and animals. A noise that did not belong here.
    The graceful elf did not take long to find the source of the noise, and there it was… a newborn child, left in a basket by a tree.

    No sign of the mother.. or the father. Who would have done this? Who would leave such a fragile creature to die? And so the wood elven stalker brought the child into the small and hidden village, taking up the burden of nurturing and raising the child, even though it would take many years.
    Or so he thought.

    The child grew quickly. Too quickly. Too quickly for an elf. It grew too broad and set for an elf. A half-human, of all things, had been brought into the village. And the village talked. Perhaps the child should be taken to Norwick, to live with its own kind. Yet, the Norwick humans were not its kind. Perhaps one of them was the father, or mother, of the child.. yet it was as much one of them as it was one of the humans. And perhaps, if it was raised with the elves.. it would avoid the mistakes that so many humans tended to make.
    Named Yaervan, he grew and grew. He learned faster than the other children, and was thought the ways of the hunt.. what plants to eat.. what water to drink. And even at a very young age, he showed a remarkable talent and understanding when it came to the things of the wilds.

    Yet when it seemed that his life would be set, that a place and a home had been found, fate intervened. A horde of goblins had gathered, and one night they struck the camp, drawn by greed and a thirst for blood. His adopted father told Yaervan to hide, to find safety in the woods, and so the young treestalker ran out of harm's way, only to watch his camp.. his tribe.. his family.. destroyed by the endless numbers of goblins. Waiting trough the night for the goblins to leave again, back to their caves, he stalked trough the camp.. yet could find non alive. Not a single elf had been spared. There was nothing left here.

    And so he headed into the woods, only a decade old, with nowhere to go.
    Without his father's guidance, hunting proved to be a nigh impossible task... and he grew weak and sick.. and it seemed he would soon rejoin his family again. But someone took pity on the two-time orphan... a black wolf found the youngling. Brought food, warmth and protection from the forest's ever-present goblins. Yaervan grew again. And it was not long before he could travel with the black wolf.

    Years slowly passed... Yaervan becoming better at the hunt, at stalking and in the ways of the wolf.. until one day he found a trail, unlike any other. It lead him to a misty clearing in the forest.. the place where his family had once lived. The tents were now nothing but ravaged and torn rags, and had been raided many times already by scavengers of all kinds. It was there, in the middle of the camp that a great wolf stood. The largest and most powerful wolf he had ever seen, it was both an awesome and terrifying sight, especially since the great wolf watched him with a silent, piercing gaze. And in that silent stare, Yaervan was told many things... that he would be watched... that he was alone, yet not alone... Fenmarel. With this last, unspoken word left to haunt his soul, the great wolf turned and vanished in the mists. A trail lead north, and Yaervan followed... stalking silently trough the woods, ever further north, until he reached the edge of the forest. It was time for a new family. A new pack._

    Character: Yaervan
    Player: Archon Prime


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