My name is Karakunjol, and you are about to hear my story.
The year is 1635. Somewhere on the border between the southern tundras and the green lands, behind a horse barrack, the cry of a baby is heard for the first time. The steady rain of the October month was dripping from my mother's pale face, making her shine in the moonlight. The blur of a silhouette that was her glaze was the first and last time that I saw her. I can recall many memories from my early childhood days, but I choose not to. Going back to those days brings me grief and sorrow.
Me and my dad worked mostly alone, trying to survive around the harsh landscapes of the snowy tundras. He would usually go on week long trips to the capital city for supplies such as metal pieces, ropes and wax, paper and ink. Even though we lived outside of a city, my dad consistently sent letters somewhere. I never got to understand where to, nor how he learned to write and read.
One day after my twelfth birthday, after he had been gone for almost two weeks, a stranger showed up outside our barrack, carrying a body on his horse. Helplessly I watched as my dad passed away in the bed at home. The stranger said he found him outside of the Kingdom of Hanseti, crawling with his rugged clothes stripped from his body.
The next few years i spent with the stranger, who came out to be a high-elf. Calling himself Ejay, he taught me the arts of writing and reading. He showed me the arcane side of the world, while teaching me chemistry and physics. Hunting and fishing were a routine with him, and in all of this time together he taught me about the way the world works. He showed me how to understand maps and to locate myself using the stars and the sun. I obtained knowledge in geography and history, but those were often boring for me. I would usually sneak up to his bed while he is sleeping, borrowing his book called "Magic unknown", and I would read through the hundreds of pages swiftly sometimes for hours.
It is safe to say that i grew to be a swift hunter. My agility and stealth was prominent in my earlier years, and they never let me down.
Even though my true race was unknown, my pale skin and bonde-ish hair had me guessing that my father had a hit with a beautiful high-elf, just as Ejay.
As time went on, Ejay continued to give me lessons about essential and not so essential parts of life. On my 18th birthday, 20 of October 1652, I woke up with a letter next to my head. Ejay had left, and didn't anticipate to come back. In the letter was said, that he could no longer feed my hunger for knowledge, thus leaving me to find my fate alone. The letter was accompanied by a little piece of paper. It is my father's handwriting and it says:"I love you, my son. Your mother's soul lies where the horizon meets the sky." I noticed faint blue aura coming out of my skin. I keep this piece of paper close to my heart to this day. I took my father's flute, some ink and paper, a bunch of leather strips, my sacred mother's robe and left for good.
It has been 6 months since Ejay left me. It has been 6 months since I started traveling. It has been 6 months since I saw the first signs of magic in my body. And I intend on finding what my mom and dad have been hiding from me all this time.
This is where my story begins.
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