Mythzic was born into poverty from what little he remembers. He was with his parents and from what he remembered, he was happy. He had a distant mother and father, and was raised with little, but they made do. He was born in Al’Khazar and had plenty of friends growing up, playing with swords of sticks or potions of mud they fashioned whenever they grew bored. Then came the Fall of Al’Khazar. He was woken in a panic and thrown into a carriage while his parents took what little they owned. But he saw something different. A hate in their eyes. He tried to ignore it and hold onto the carriage, but he felt his grip loosened as if something had grabbed him. His father held him up to his face. He said "If you're strong, you can survive boy. But as of right now you're another mouth to feed, and another liability. I'm sorry". The last words echoed as Mythzic was thrown out of the carriage and heard the screams of the people as his parents rode out of sight. The undead had taken Al'Khazar. Mythzic ran after his parents, but it was of no use. They were far gone. Then, he heard another carriage. A family was running up to pass him, but he quickly jumped onto the side of the carriage and held on, as he knew this was his only chance to survive. He quickly hid himself under clothes in the families crates, and he passed out from exhaustion. He woke up to screaming from a girl slighlty older than him when he was found in her clothes. Mythzic ran out as a large sized man shouted at him. He looked in awe at a giant burning tree, and from reading the signs around him, he found he was in the Kingdom of Norland. He quickly went into a small tavern, and began his new life. He had to steal to survive. He gained and lost friends, but everyday had one goal: Survive. That was each and everyday, stealing bread from a bakery, or taking water from horse stables. He wandered the world and years had passed and he built a reputation as a street rat among many. Now its up to him to turn it around.
