A group of pirates found him on a boat adrift, on the Grand Harvest of 1694. He was only 13, barely spoke elvish but he was lucky to be found by a crew with a high elf as medic, Casardur, who could translate his few words and safe him from starving, he was abandoned on that boat by his parents in a moment of despair to run away and safe his life after an unexpected attack on the coasts of Morsgrad... never saw them again. He managed to survive in the cold seas of the north fishing with his own hands but hasn’t seen land on months, maybe years. The most obvious thing would have been to sell him as a precious slave but the captain saw in his golden eyes the tenacity of a great warrior so decided to rise him as a crew member. The high elf baptized him as Fairëmor but his crewmates always call him by the name of Espectro because of his disturbing personality and ghostly appearance so he assumed both names.
When everyone migrated away of Atlas, Casardur told Fairëmor that he have heard about a group of white elves like him migrating to a city called Fenn, they were strong warriors and proud people and he should try to find them and maybe find a truly home but Espectro feel the ship as his home and the crew as his family, so didn’t pay attention to the suggestion and just sail through the Ice Wall to the new realm full of wanders and loots, the new lands of Arcas.
Over time he became a particular warrior, adept at combat but exceptional when it came to silently murdering, once waited under a bed for 3 days until finding the best time to poison a nobleman’s drink and get out of the castle without trace of crime. This skills made him a valuable and respected member of the crew and even esteemed by the captain. The beat of the waves on the hull forged his personality and ideals, and for a moment it seemed that the tranquility of the sea managed to thaw his cold heart but misfortune seems to haunt his happiness, on a gloomy day a group of ruthless pirates defeat him and his crew, murdered his captain and crewmates, plundered his ship, and left him to die. For years he wandered, seeking revenge, obsessed with the only clue of his enemies, a scorpion on the banner, and a hole in the heart that may be filled with the support of his race on The Princedom, a place only heard in histories and legends that seemed to talk about people like him.
Espectro looks up with a cold gaze to the eyes of the gentleman and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper of his old clothes “Have you seen this banner?” question, showing the blurry drawing of a scorpion made with coal. The paper drips because of the water on his clothes after sailing “Or have you heard about The Princedom? It’ll be very useful if you have any information about my doubts, if not please move away”
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