In her youth, Amarys was a highly inquisitive and passionate child, much to the dismay of her parents. Her father a hardy weapons smith and her mother a skilled herbologist, her home life was quite secure. An adolescent during the time in which Haelun’or was independent from the Dominion but still under the rule of the Kingdom of Oren, her father was often absent late into the night, consistently crafting weapons for High Elves paranoid of the Dominion and their rulers. Over the years, a rebellion formed from the likes of the Courland, and the High Elves removed their representative for Oren from power, her parents sought to join the rest of Haelun’or in the fight; and perhaps earn some extra coins. A wagon stocked full of herbal medicines and fine iron weaponry was all a young adult Amarys saw as her parents rode into the night in the direction of the troops, leaving her with only their maid and their cottage. “It will only be a fortnight, little mali’aheral,” their voices echoed in her head, and a quiet anxiousness brewed in her eyes. A few days late of a fortnight, the wagon returned, battered and torn, and a pair of footsteps approached their home. As their maid shook Amarys awake and the pair sped to the door, they were met with her father’s tired, melancholy eyes. Orenian scouts had attacked, taking her mother as a hostage to use for their own losing troops while her father was busy defending the wagon. After that, her father retreated into a reclusive, cold shell, and their maid had taken over in caring for her. As his passion for crafting weapons faded, their money began to run dry, and so on her 60th birthday, Amarys decided it was best to leave home to conserve their resources, and go off on her own way to pursue a path that might just breathe some life into her family again.