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Arkum
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My story begins in another land, far from the tales of valour and deception of Kirganthis. A realm of intrique and manipulation lies far across the eastern seas into the dark lands of Grundor, land of the fallen elves. A race of elves of a greyish pigment, living beneath the lands or within the forever sun-blotted lands of the Dead Lands. My society is one of three main cities of the fallen elf nation. Although they are united only in trade, their societies are similary controlled by one patriarch or matriarch.
I was born the son of noble blood. My father and mother were both master fighters of The Edge Legions, instructors at the training halls. I was raised with a readied sword in hand. However, I did not choose to follow the path of a strongheaded warrior, but chose a different path. My sire would only put up with me for so long before he would begin to continually punish me for my casualness and relaxed nature. He was so confident in my own incompetence and carefreeness that he failed to see a blade I had hidden in my sleeve until it was driven into his jugular.
My culture saw that deed not as murder, but ambition and I was quickly accepted into the rogue mercenary band, Devil's Hand. I stayed with them for many years stirring up trouble and causing chaos; nothing I could not control of course. It wasn't until two decades later that I found myself within a particular palace of Patriarch Licues Mezzrah, within his study. As I was finishing up my mission, I was struck behind by a hidden ifrit, a magical creature that was used as a guardian. Strucking left and right, moving from side to side and fighting for some time, I was at least able to defeat the creature, but not in time to save myself. I was captured and tortued for three days before brought before Mezzrah. Instead of simply executing me, he decided to play a little game.. or trick. Mezzrah was Lord over the city for his powerful wizardry, and he channeled his power and used it against myself, to curse me with the body and face of a surface elf.
I was cast out of the city and out of Grundor, exiled to the sunlit lands beyond. It was here that I learned that my curse was not a gift, but certainly something I could use to my own advantage. I am Arkum Kincaid, fallen no longer.
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