LoveArrow

Was born into almost average wood elf Family. They weren’t wealthy enough to be accepted to the rich circle. And too rich themselves to truly blend in with the lower classes. Despite usually being treated fairly, they never had as friends more then only a few houses. His parents could not get a child for long time. Yet, after many years the gods blessed the family. Irima, which meant lovely, desirable, name, thought by his father. His father, who left six months before Irima was born. The great duty called. Something one couldn't turn back on. He was a warrior. A fearsome, and clever, as they told. Yet, it was no help this time. When warriors returned from the mission, there were no cheers by the welcoming ceremony Many, were missing. His squad never told exactly what happened. As Irima grew up, he developed a passion for archery Rare free hour was spent away from training grounds. Not even the weather could be greater. Scorching hot, or storming thunders, “when the real fun is!” he told A passion, considered maniacal even by wood elves. For this, he was given a nickname, A nickname, which, many found so fitting, it soon replaced real name, for everywhere but with family and close friends, They called him “Feng,” – the war arrow. In early age, he was often made fun of because of his skin. It was pale. More pale then any of his elvish peers had. The only thing making him look different. For several years, the more elderly took him to hunts. His interest decided the occupation. The way, of bringing value to society. Soon, he often went on by himself. When not working or training, he often talked with his grand grand father, Illiyad Illiyad told him stories about the family. About Irima’s father who was even more pale. Yet, not much about grand father, who married Illiyad’s daughter. Always masterfully avoiding questions about the topic, Only once he said a word. A word that made Irima believe, he was somewhere in far lands, travelling the world. After this, Irima developed another interest, as they often talked about other nations and lands far lands. As if there was a hope to find him, the one who knew more about Irima’s white skin. Alike to the seed, planted long ago. This though grew with Irima. He become excited about travelling, seeing, experiencing other cultures. When his friend told about similar interest, they made impulsive promise to themselves and each other. His grand grand father cringed when irima told him about the promise. Yet, haven’t stopped, giving valuable advises. In the final day, his friend turned back. The first betrayal, leaving Irima alone on his path. And just like this, another wood elf left the home to venture into the world. edits From Laureh'lin. Worshiper of Aspectism. Not and never was a vampire.