It was a terrible start for a baby…
I grew up in the village of Elmvale where nearly everyone was human, although there were a few exceptions. The entire kingdom of Daria was like that, besides the dwarves under the Grey Mountains, the elves in the Alderheart Forest, and the orcs in the wilderness to the west. Our kingdom was very racially tolerant, when I was young.
It was sometimes a little difficult for me, being an elf growing up in a village of humans, but I managed. The myth about our longevity had been greatly exaggerated, and my parents were actually the same age as everyone else's.
(Elf Faction +25, Nature +25 and Willpower +5)
My parents weren't poor, although they never bothered to ensure that my clothes were without holes or that my shoes fit. They fought a lot, and my father was often drunk. They never hit me, but I think that was because they knew that the temple priests would never allow such a thing. I always had the impression that they were waiting for me to become old enough to move out.
Even as a young child, I was drawn into the unknown. I remember my first magical experience, even though I was only five years old. I didn't know where my parents were, but I wandered off alone…