His earliest years were spent with a small family of unknown Farlander nomads travelling across the Arcasian(?) landscape. He was born with strange features: pale skin, far unlike the tan of his traveler family; and heterochromatic eyes, neither colors of which even appearing on his supposed parents. He always noticed the difference. But it seemed to him that his family never did. They never treated him differently, but he always noticed a certain distance between himself and his family members. He feared searching for the truth to his lineage, thinking that it might lead him away from the people he knew as family, so on his life continued, his thirst for an answer seemingly held back. His group dragged him to many places: from the snowy landscapes of Curon to the western distances of Ravensburgh. It all enriched his cultural understanding of the world. It enkindled his small flame for learning.
But like all (not really) character backstories, Den found himself entangled in a tragedy. His group was asleep en route to Oren, from Suffonia, when a storm struck. By a twist of misfortune, Den found himself separated from his family during the ordeal. He had left his tent to refill his water flask at a nearby lake when lightning near the camp started a fire that consumed the area in a blaze. He had not known this. Instead, he took his time curiously watching the rain droplets cause ripples across the lake’s surface. He eventually got bored. Thoughts of getting lost on the way back plagued his mind, but soon enough, he realized that there were graver matters to consider.
Massive plumes of cinder and smoke lit a small part of the night sky. There was a wildfire. Fearing the worst, Den rushed to the source and confirmed his fears.
A massive ring of fire surrounded the camp. He could not see past the pillars of flame. There was nothing he could do but watch...and reminisce.
The strangest thoughts swirled in his head. The strangest emotions captured his attention. It did not matter if his “family” was inside that ring, suffering. It was a beautiful sight to behold, anyway. It was entrancing. Like a moth drawn to a light, Den walked closer to the flames. Its shape was too solid, too definite. The heat stung, but he pushed on. He held his face closer to he swirling mass of blaze, until...
FSHHHHH!!
The fire had struck him in the face. It set his hair ablaze. Almost immediately, he snapped from the trance and fell down. He rolled around in the sodden earth to put out the fire. Then he noticed everything. The sweat. The fast heartbeats. The shaking of his body. The fear.
He ran. Everything blacked out.
He woke up in a place he didn’t belong to. He was in a room he didn’t know. He was no longer in the forest.
He was in Oren.
And he wanted answers.
