Rorrath was born and raised in a tribe of catfolk & elves in the Moonsilver forest.
He has good senses, even for a catfolk.
His tribe lived in a medium sized treetop village northwest of the town of Ashenburg. Rorrath was always exploring and climbing about the trees near his village.
As a kitten, he was always poking his nose somewhere he didn’t need to be. Usually it involved following strangers or animals through the forest and not realizing where he would end up. After getting lost a few times, though, he learned his way around.
As he grew older, his passion and understanding of the forest grew, he developed a desire to protect this great forest so his village would always remain. He began following the guards around to learn about what they did. At first they treated him as just a curious kitten, but over time they realized he was serious about defending his home. At length he finally was given the opportunity to join the militia.
During this time he learned about discipline, honor, and to respect those he protected. This meant a great deal to him.
As he became proficient in his duties, he met an elven wizard who was always out practicing cantrips and low level spells. While Rorrath didn’t really understand most of it, he tried anyway to learn about magic but never could get any result except making a spark appear. Ah well. Maybe it would come in handy down the road.
Eventually he finished working as part of the militia and continued hunting and foraging herbs in the forest. He frequently went into the town of Ashenburg to trade herbs that he gathered and to see the people there. A frequent topic of conversation folks were always talking about was the city of Ptolus. He was curious. What was this place? He would always ask the townsfolk and any travelers about it to try and learn more. Maybe one day he would go and see it. For now, his tribe needed him.
On the month before his 18th birthday, Rorrath was out in the forest like he usually was. Observing, listening, and smelling. Did he love the smell of trees! He would climb to the top of a particularly tall tree and look over the forest. All this was making him hungry. In a bit he would go to the river and get some fish.
His hawk was circling around an area in the distance. Smoke? Looks like it is in the area where his village is at! Immediately he was on the ground running on all fours. He only hoped he would get there in time to help before it was taken care of. As he drew closer he noticed the animals were fleeing the area. For a small fire? He thought. Not normal. When he was close enough he slowed and came to the edge of a clearing that he didn’t remember being there before. Trees were being cut and a large partially built camp was being constructed. He climbed a tree to get a better vantage point. His blood ran cold.
From where he was perched he could see the members of his tribe had been captured and some were dead already. He knew that there was nothing he could do. He had failed his tribe. He decided that his best bet would be to go to Ptolus and look for work there. One day he would avenge his tribe and his honor. He would return.
After several days of travel Rorrath came to the outskirts. What a large city! he thought as he began making his way in.