Blyd has lived a life longer than most humans could dream of. Long life and nigh eternal youth were graces that came with his race. It was not at all surprising that Blyd looked his thirties for someone had was over a century old. He looked nothing similar to his real age. His kind, the elves after all possessed a much life span than humans.
"You must grow to be strong, my child. To carry on our heritage."
Like every elven child of the olden Axim, Blyd was engraved with these words even before he started to understand language. Etched in his heart and same for every elven man and woman was the heritage of his kind.
To survive the world after the war, Blyd donned a mask. Hiding behind that mask, his heritage. His true name. His pride. To sing the new song of old Axim once again, he went under the devil's own wing.
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