Caleis

As a boy Vyren was born the eldest of his immediate family. Food was scarce in the land and raising a large family was no facile task. His family demanded much of him. Devoting his time, sacrificing, with nothing in return. He was instructed to nurture his siblings due to his age while his parents were out scrounging for jobs and food. Any mishaps were pinned upon him and were resolved with grave punishment. His siblings offered no aid and he was expected to figure out how to rally them to his assistance. Lack of success was made his own failure. To keep the youngest alive he would be forced to skip meals, to go hungry. As they lived near Kal’Omith he would sometimes be sent out into local towns for odd jobs and the little money earned would go into the mouths of his parents and family. Bitterness ensued from these circumstances and the connate unruliness and puerile behavior of his siblings only offered proliferation to his rancor. His parents loved him immensely and they wanted him to not undergo some of these unpleasant circumstances but forfeiting was the only way to keep them all alright and he felt cheated due to this. One month, the past days had offered no fruition in any aspect. The weather was cold and bitter with hail and the hunger that needled his stomach was incessant. He had been worked to bone from his jobs in the rugged landscapes and was decorated in bruises. The youngest were crying and no matter the rocking or singing they wouldn’t cease. The cacophony haunted him as he prepared dinner, the sharp rock slicing away at the coarse meat. The raucous tenor swelled and his hand shook in rage. He worked so hard, every day, every night. He gave these brats everything and received nothing. The tone of their voices repaid him with no gratitude. They never did. In that moment he felt utterly servile. He had no honor in this place. His hand clenched the jagged stone while the noise beat at his ears. The wailing suddenly burgeoned and in response he turned around and blindly flung the rock in indignation. As he collected himself he looked upwards and saw that one boy, a toddler, had been hit. Vyren shook as he saw that the boy was bleeding and that the child’s eyes had drifted elsewhere, already clouded with death. Vyren ran, wrapped in his father’s cloak. He darted through trees and frozen river banks. The sound of them screaming and the image following him all the while. He malformed his tenets into that succor from him would come with a price, that he must gain power to shield himself from the cruel happenings that befall many and to never let anyone take his honor.