It is perhaps by virtue of my own absolute arrogance that I have decided to document those events that have made me what I am. Certainly this tome will one day stand as a manual on how one can exceed the bounds of his own upbringing, and raise himself to stand among the mighty.

I was born the least of seventeen sons of House Mournrahel in Traensyr. All my young life I was reminded of that. The "Least". My lot was to be a lesser guardsman outside of one of the family's more remote holdings, and eventually to be food for one of the many beasts that assail the walls.

Though I proved to be an apt student of arms, my true strength lie in my intellect. Quite simply put, I was smarter than most whom I would call "rivals". I'll never forget the day I took my first life. The look of absolute surprise in his eye as his blood seeped out of him, knowing that his last thoughts were of how I had outmaneuvered him. How a lesser had bested him.

From there, it was hard to stop.

My skill grew. A day finally came that I realized that although I was a pariah among my betters, there were few among them that would openly lord themselves over me. Still, my fate could not be avoided. My lineage was one thing that my skill would not allow me to rise above.

My childhood years were spent in much the same manner as any young boy of a minor house in Traensyr. Once able to utter my first word, I was taken from the breeder that had served as my mother and enrolled in the academy. There I received much of my training in the arts of etiquette, religion, and the arts martial.

It is customary in those formative years of a child for the instructors to decide the path that the youngling will follow throughout his life. Those that show promise in arcanistry are directed towards becoming Battle Wizards. Those like myself, with a bent for swordplay are relegated to the lower echelons of guardsmen, soldiers, and in general - fodder, unfit usually for even breeding against the surface elf women that were kept for the purpose of ensuring a constant supply of arms. Traensyr's wars, both civil and domestic being neverending.

I suppose that is isnt unusual that I did not know my parents. I say this not to attempt to inspire a feeling of sympathy in the reader, but rather to serve as a means of framing the next event of my formative life.

One day, during a particularly brutal eighteen hour training drill with heavy lead-weighted practice epee's, I was told to fall out of rank and speak to a male that had been noticed by many of the students as being interested in the drills. A warrior, it was obvious. He carried himself with an air of supreme confidence, and the sharp eyes among us were quick to observe that even the Grand Wizard of the Academy placed himself deferentially when in the presence of the stranger.

By introduction, he was Tiissiv Mournrahel, and he claimed to be my father.

The scorched remnants of this work in progress are found about the Town Hall.