I was born in 3638 in a tiny village that bordered Belegar. I don't really remember much of that time, but what little I remember of my childhood is pleasant up until a point. When I was seventeen my world was forever changed. One fateful spring morning as I was out tending our sheep I noticed a large dust cloud heading for the village. It was unusual to see a large enough group of travelers to kick up that amount of dust, and my curiosity got the best of me. Deciding that the sheep could watch themselves for a while I started jogging toward the village to see what the occasion was. Looking back, the run to the village was the longest moment of my life. The memory of it is still vague, as if my mind is afraid to show the entire thing to me, but I remember that as I got closer to the village I began hearing disturbing sounds. The sound of steel striking wood and the sound of people screaming in terror made my heart drop with panic. Bursting into a sprint I closed the rest of the distance between the village and myself just in time to see the armed riders hurry away, leaving a pile of bodies lying in the midst of the village and flag flying on a pike that was adorned with the village leader's head. In a panic I rushed to the tiny hut that I had called home for the past seventeen years, terrified of what I might find. My worst fears were realized as soon as I arrived where my home should have been, where instead there was a pile of rubble. Tearfully I rushed to my home and began shoving logs and rubble aside searching for my parents. After what seemed like an eternity I thought I spied something human lying in the midst of splintered walls and furniture, and I rushed towards it paying no heed to my own safety. As I rushed forward I tripped on something, there's no telling what it might have been, the