I was born during a thunderstorm, my mother overcomes with exhaustion, succumbed to the cold hands of the grim reaper. As I came out her womb, she went to her tomb. " Liora" she had named me before she died. It meant light which was an irony because all my life has been filled with darkness.
My father, a rogue elf , an Outcast of the high and mighty elven kingdom, a Royal blood though but his family and turned their backs on him. His crime? Loving a human my mother "Selene" he would wail out her name during his usual drunken state, I don't think I've ever seen him fully sober.
I've learned to stay out of his way, hide in the shadows and corners of our cave which was our shelter, whenever he comes back.
One day I hid too late and he saw me and lunged at me. I shrieked in fear and tried to run but he grabbed my right leg and flung me across the room . I survived a broken shoulder that day, I was only eight. He said it was my fault my mother died. I killed her.
He never brought home bread , nor water , nor robes for me to clothe myself. I've had to fend for myself wince I was two. How I survived? I still don't know.
We lived on the outskirts of the town. AshFall was the town's name. I walked miles there everyday, barefooted to beg for copper coins or work for it by scrubbing the floor of taverns and brothels or cleaning horse stables and poultries so I could get a hot meal or change my rags. It was never enough to get shoes at least o could survive without them.
AshFall wasn't a paradise where flowers bloomed and birds sang with rainbows don the cloud and everyone was happy and jolly.
It was a desolate , shadowy town tucked away in the heart of a volcanic valley. The town earned its name from the constant blanket of gray ash that falls like snow, remnants of a long-dormant volcano that looms over the horizon. Despite its bleak surroundings, Ashfall is home to a unique mix of outcasts, wanderers, and those seeking refuge from a world that has turned its back on them like my Father, Eroth the third of five children born to the Elven king Araithe.
The town is a maze of crumbling stone buildings, narrow alleys and rickety wooden structures. A faint sulfuric haze hangs in the air, and the constant ash fall muffled sound, creatin an eerie quiet. Lateens with enchanted blue flames line the streets casting an other worldly glow over the town at night. At the center of AshFall stands the Ember spire, an ancient blackened tower said to be the remnant of the volcano's wrath. It now serves as headquarters for the shadow traders and gathering place for secret dealings
The outskirts of the town are dotted with mines and abandoned caverns, their entrances marked by jagged rocks and warning signs. The ground is warm to the touch, and occasional tremors remind the townsfolk of the volcano's dormant but dangerous presence.
AshFall brimmed with, The Ashborn:
These are miners and blacksmiths who toil in the ashen ruins for precious ores buried beneath the volcanic rock. Their skin is perpetually coated in soot, and their eyes glint like embers in the dim light of the town. They are stoic and hardened, known for their resilience and craftsmanship.
The Shadow Traders,Merchants and smugglers who thrive in the underground markets of Ashfall. They deal in rare and illegal goods: enchanted relics, stolen artifacts, and contraband from the elven kingdoms. They are cunning and secretive, always wearing masks to hide their identities.
The Broken Ones, Refugees, beggars, and war survivors who sought solace in Ashfall but found only hardship. They huddle in tattered cloaks around fire pits, sharing stories of lost homes and shattered dreams. Despite their struggles, they have a sense of community, helping one another survive in the harsh environment.
The Emberblades, Mercenaries and assassins who use Ashfall as their base. They are skilled fighters, many of them outlaws who fled their past lives. They take on dangerous contracts, their services paid for in gold or blood.
The Nightseers , A mysterious group of mystics and seers who claim to draw their power from the volcanic energy beneath Ashfall. They live in the ruins of an old temple at the edge of town, offering cryptic prophecies to those brave enough to seek their guidance.
Despite its grim appearance, Ashfall is a place of survival and opportunity. For those willing to brave its dangers, it offers a chance to disappear, start over, or forge a new destiny.
But AshFall stifled me , the air burned my lungs, the ash clung to my skin, the silence was deafening . It was a place for the hopeless and I refused to let that be my fate.
Everyone here looked at me like I was some kind of freak , half human, half elf although I had no physical elf attributes so guess I looked mostly human which made me different. " Mudblood" they'd call me, pinch me, chase me away and sometimes on days I was lucky they'd let me do their dirty work for copper coins or hot broth.
AshFall had nothing for me but shadows regrets and tears. I wanted more than to live day by day begging around , surviving kicks and shoved and name calling . Fearing my father and fearing for my life. Somewhere out there was my future and I'd rather die chasing it than wasting away here.