The great forest of Flywood was a fine home. We had everything we needed to sustain our little village. Berries were plentiful, meat to hunt moreso, and a beautiful river ran between the treeroots, providing seemingly endless amounts of fresh, crystal clear, water. There was no competition for these resources either, our existence was perfectly peaceful.

That is, until the foul orcs came. I can remember the night that they attacked with absolute detail. Everybody were suddenly woken up out of their slumber from the warcries of the orcs. We peeped out of our huts, and witnessed the orcs charging through the forest we called home, with their torches held high. They had set fire to the trees, and it was quickly spreading towards our village.

Everybody who had the ability to battle picked up their weapons and tried to fight as well as they could, but it was a lost cause. Our weapons were made to hunt, not to fight other sapient beings. Ontop of that, the fire had spread to us. Everything around us was ablaze. We were able to kill some of the orcs regardless, but it was no use. Those who were still alive and conscious realised that their only chance of survival, would be to run. To abandond their home, their life, their loved ones. There was no other way. At least that is what I tell myself, when I remember the screams of my burning brethren. I don't know whether anybody else survived, to be honest. I might be the last of my tribe.

As a lonely & devastated elf, I made my way to the human lands in order to find a new life for myself. I had no goods, no gold, nothing of value. The only thing I managed to bring was my lute. In order to survive, I used my past experiences to write songs of lore, of my people, of my tribe. Of my experiences. I played in taverns around the lands for scraps of food, somewhere to sleep and the little change within the patrons' pockets. When that wasn't enough, I simply did what I had to do to find what I need. It wasn't a noble life, but I managed to survive in the end.

I now have a permanent, burning hatred for orcs. They are scum. They are evil. I want every single one of them to feel the pain I had to endure as a result of their actions, and I don't care about anybody who gets in my way. I will get my revenge, no matter what.