It would be curious that such proud of an Elf would be brought up upon the outer regions of the Free City, StoneGate. Though young he was when he would realize that adventure Which started itself no other then the Free City.

It started young for this Elven one, searching for something higher in life, something that Would put, what human stupidity would call ‘Honor’ upon Elven blood. Though Humans knew nothing of what honor truly was, with their relentless killing. They would soon know the Name of Arth, The healing winds.

Indeed would this Elf take pride in becoming such the one of the healing arts. Growing up around bandages and the weariness of learning to cure light spells with that inner force some would like to state knowing only as, Mana. Would he only find his passion for helping his blood so desperately.

Though as it may seem this one known as Arth may’ve had hate for such the race known as the Humans. It was not always like this, treachery and dishonor by there means would bring such a hate upon them by this one. Tirome. A name never forgotten by one, nor never to be forgotten as they had so unpleasantly brought this mistrust. Lies would reek his soul as he would believe them. Until it would be made clear to him by his own blood spilt so unpleasantly upon the battle field by them, would he come to hate this race of un-devine people.

Days would mount on and Arth would become known by few. Growing older he would do as training continued on. He would see shortly after this disbelief done to him, how much better life with the loving elven blood would be. As if it were not for such the race would he at all of become known as the Hero of Cleric. Arth the healing wind.