I am Navlys, half-elf ranger, and here is set down the story of my birth and upbringing...

My father is of a noble heritage. A descendant of the ruling family of the Ta'Ardenai, my father dreamed of one day using his influence to restore the glory of the Elven kingdom as it was before the Undead Wars and the coming of Despana. It was perhaps a vain wish, but my father was very proud. He had some cause, I suppose, for, as is characteristic of the Ta'Ardenai, he was an excellent huntsman and a superior bowmaster. He believed in the traditions of his people and wanted to see the Elven nations, in general, restored to their former glory. This pride, however, took its toll in ways that I would not be aware of for many years following my birth.

My mother, as you might guess, is human - the only daughter to a humble farming family living in the countryside around Wehnimer's Landing. The youngest of several children, she was born not long after my youngest uncle had left home to make his own way in the world. As the child of my grandparents' middle age, she was much doted upon. She always had an amiable air about her, though there was something else as well, something peculiar and uncanny. Her loves were the animals that run in the wild, and the plants that grow in the meadows and forests. Often she could be seen walking with the animals. Some said she could even converse with them, so great was her affinity to nature; and her knowledge of the healing properties of plants was unrivalled around the neighboring farmsteads. Even the arcane arts were not outside her abilities, and some even whispered that the dark arts were within her realm of understanding.

One day while foraging in the forest outside the Landing, my mother ran across a particularly beautiful stand of oak trees, old and majestic. She felt called into their midst somehow and drew closer and closer until she was surrounded by them. Feeling herself to be utterly engulfed by the power of this ancient arbor, she turned slowly to drink in the surroundings…and found herself facing a handsome elf. She hardly dared breathe in case the apparition should disappear, so well did he blend with the surroundings. But the violet eyes were not those of a ghost, and the moment their eyes locked, their souls were joined. No words were spoken. The whispers of the leaves and the songs of the birds said all that needed saying.

I was born the following year.

For many years, my parents were very happy; at least, that is my recollection, for I myself was certainly happy. From my mother I acquired an affinity for animals and cultivated a knowledge of and skill with herbs. Under my father's tutelage, I became skilled with the long bow and learned the secret ways through forest and meadow. My father, though, never forgot his dream of restoring the Golden Age of the Ta'Ardenai, and, though I was sure he'd be torn at the prospect of leaving my mother alone, he eventually started spending less and less time at home.

I'm sure this separation took its toll on my mother; it must have. Outwardly, however, she seemed very proud of my father and his work; and she went about her normal daily activities as if nothing were wrong. I'm sure that, for my sake, she put on a strong face and suffered in silence. But, eventually, I started to sense a distance in her. She threw herself more and more into her herblore and very often kept herself locked up in her private study away from prying eyes. Eventually, she reached the point where she hardly spoke two words to me from day to day, ignoring even the need for basic necessities. I took on the responsibility of hunting for food and keeping us supplied with fresh water. Perhaps she drew inward to stay closer to her memories of my father; I don't know. I knew, though, that I couldn't bear to see my mother's happiness so diminished. I started to resent my father, feeling that he should never have left her, and I cursed his allegiance to that foreign Elven land and his misguided ideals.

My thoughts regarding my father became darker as his visits became even more infrequent. I hardly saw him anymore, and I blamed him for the state of my mother's mind. Any grasp she had on reality, at least the reality I was aware of, slipped away almost entirely away. I did not see her often, but I heard her - strange mutterings in a language I couldn't understand. What her purpose was, I knew not; but the air was always filled with a foulness after her being shut up for prolonged periods of time. When I asked her what kept her so occupied, she would only laugh, and say with a wild look in her eye, "I'm plucking the petals, child; one by one." That response chilled me to the very bone. I began to fear for my mother's very life, and the resentment I carried for my father turned to hate for what she was becoming.

One night after such an episode, I went to bed, leaving my mother to her books and her foul potions. I debated in my mind what to do. Should I leave? Stay and try to stave off whatever evil was entering my mother's mind?

"You should leave," a soft voice murmured. "In fact, you must leave."

Startled, I sat bolt upright in bed. There, in the shadows, was my father. "You!" I spat. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come for you," he said evenly. "You are in danger here. Your mother's mind is lost."

Furious at what I perceived as his nonchalance, my voice rose to a fevered pitch. "If it is, it's because of you, because of your neglect! How dare you come back and…." I did not get a chance to finish through the hand that had now clamped down on my mouth. My eyes bore holes into his, so great a rage was upon me.

"You MUST keep quiet!" my father snarled.

To no avail, however, for at that moment my mother burst in. Never had I seen such a transformation in a single person. The foul smell I'd become accustomed to wafted into the room from the hallway. Wild-eyed, disheveled, her hair a tangled mess, my mother held in her hand a wilted daisy, devoid of all petals but one. This petal glowed with a faint sickly light, and I somehow knew that petal meant death.

I glanced at my father to see how he faced my mother's malice, for surely her current state of being was directly due to him, but he had vanished into the shadows. My mother's malevolent gaze focused on me.

"You daughter of a faithless cur!" she shrieked. "I will rid the world of his seed!"

Her hand moved slowly toward the daisy to pluck the last petal, but before she could accomplish this, she suddenly crumpled to the floor in a heap. Though shocked at her intent toward me, I nonetheless leapt from my bed to her side in an instant, but I already knew she was dead…dead with my father's knife in her back. I looked on in horror.

"What have you done?" I cried, looking at my father in shock. Though I hated him, I never thought him a truly despicable person….until now.

"What I had to do," he replied sadly. "She was beyond help, and this was the only kindness left for her. She would have abhorred what she became."

"You MADE her what she became, you faithless bastard!" I was beyond all reason at this point and forgot all propriety owed to this man as my father.

He lowered his eyes to the floor, lost in thought for a moment. When he raised his eyes to me again, I was surprised to see the hint of tears.

"Navlyssin, there is much you do not know. Your mother was fated for this end before I ever met her. As a young girl, she loved to run through the woods, in much the same way she was when we met. That was a very happy accident, but there was one chance meeting that was not so fortunate. A sorcerer, seeing in her an innate power, laid a curse upon her that caused her vital essence to be slowly drained away. No doubt he used the essence to strengthen his own power. At first, the effects were barely perceptible. In fact, her abilities with animals were enhanced for a time, perhaps because they sensed the power emanating from her almost constantly. There was always such a goodness about her that the power only enhanced. After a time, I noticed the drain upon her, though she seemed oblivious to it. I began to be suspicious and spent a good deal of time away, as you know, trying to find out what was wrong. When I discovered the nature of her affliction, my mission then became to find a way to break the link between your mother and this foul sorcerer. But all my efforts came to naught. As you can see, I have failed. There was no way to break the link, and the only thing left to do was end her pain."

I stood for a minute in utter shock, my mind incapable of absorbing what it had just heard. After years of hating him, my father now offered an explanation that completely vindicated his actions. I shook my head slowly; I couldn't make the adjustment he asked of me.

"No, you lie!" I shouted. "You've always been so full of pride, so eager to talk about the glory days of the cursed Ta'Ardenai; that's the only thing you've ever cared about!"

"Navlyssin," he began, tears visible on his cheeks, but I cut him off.

"No! I will not listen to more of your lies! I will not hear you!" Full of fury, I picked up the yew longbow that had been a gift from him for my coming-of-age and snapped it over my knee. Grabbing my cloak and what little money I had, I left, never looking back at my home.

I never went back. Instead I wandered aimlessly, using what means I had available to me to make a modest living. Finally, to give my life some purpose, I decided to determine whether or not my father had spoken the truth about this sorceror he spoke of. Having made my way to Wehnimer's Landing, I kept my ears open and my eyes alert. I discovered a covert society was in operation right in the heart of town. People would hardly speak of it, but if they whispered veiled hints, they were always filled with dread. I presumed this was as good a place to start as any. I infiltrated this organization and mastered its secrets, but always with the objective of discovering the only evil I cared about.

Filling my life with that societiy's influence was a great danger for me. I knew this, and as a result, poured what energy I had left into contemplation and healing. I became a regular visitor to Imaera's temple in Solhaven, absorbing her goodness and healing power. I worked on becoming a healer myself after the fashion of rangers, and I learned about all the plants in the wild and their healing properties. Through Imaera, my life remained whole.

But I was not happy. With the death of my mother, the betrayal of my father, and the dark path I had chosen, life had lost its sweetness and vitality. I grew careless on my hunts, reaching a point where I didn't care whether I lived or died, until one day a particularly lucky swing left me mortally wounded. Without help, I would surely die; it was only a matter of time. And I didn't care. I lay there thinking back on my life and its wretched ending when a warrior happened upon me. He was a loner, not much in the habit of dealing with others; nor did I care to be rescued, but something about me must have caught his eye, and something in his eyes touched the last spark of life left in me. He saved me, and with him I learned to trust again. He made it possible for me to remember the beauty in the trees and the sweetness in the air. He is my life, my other half...or at least I thought so.

He betrayed me as well. Must all men be faithless?! His fear took him away, fear of reaching out to another, fear of that ultimate connection. He had only a brief contact with love, and that was all he had the stomach for....but I will not dwell on it, nor bore you with the unpleasant details. He is gone, and again I am left alone.

Though I try, I cannot completely forget my sorrows. I will not sully my hand again with the touch of another man. I will live my life alone, in the wilderness, befriending the birds and beasts, and only venture into town as necessity requires.

I will not touch the longbow anymore. I wield either the sword or, preferably, axes, a weapon my father would surely disapprove of for its ungainly appearance. I cannot rid myself of my anger toward him. Perhaps I never will unless I discover this sorceror and confront him.

I remember my mother, remember her goodness, and hope that one day her light may shine down upon me.