Erevan was born into relative luxury, his father being involved with one of the more moderately successful elven trading ventures based in Altdorf. However, early in his life,
his parents were slain by skaven while travelling through Brittania. Taken in by a distant cousin in Altdorf, Erevan became dissolute, frequenting bars and dives in the slums of Altdorf. It was here that he discovered his gift for words, both in convincing menacing humans from sticking knives in his back or entertaining said toughs in those bars with tales from many backgrounds. Often , Erevan would be found at midday, in a dirty alley regaling urchins with tales of Hansel and Gretel or Rumpelstiltskin, then in the early morning at one of the decrepit den’s of ill repute be found entertaining the crowd with ribald tales of the Crofters Wife and the 10 Ugly Nuns of St. Gerome.
It was early one morning, returning to his cousin’s abode when rounding the corner saw to his horror a large mob of torch bearing people attacking the house, battering down the door and rushing inside. Retreating to the corner, Erevan watched as his cousin and family were dragged outside into the waiting arms of the mob. Erevan lost sight of his family but from the screams had no doubt as to their fate.
Turning and sprinting into the night, Erevan retreated to a hidden cache he maintained. Once there, he rested until dawn then set out and began querying his various contacts in the criminal underground to find out why his family had been attacked. After two days of inquiries Erevan learned that his cousin’s financial affairs had been hit hard by the recent recession; sustaining some significant setbacks. When some debts came due, he was unable to meet his obligations. Unfortunately his innate elvish arrogance became his downfall, as those to whom he owed the funds raised a mob to “punish” Erevan’s family. Notice soon came to Erevan that the perpetrators had realized that he had escaped his family’s fate and were at this very moment searching the slums for him.
Realizing that his very life was at stake, Erevan sought advice from a confidant who placed him in contact with a smuggler who gave Erevan a chance to leave the city in order to deliver a package to Nuln.
Seizing the opportunity to escape a certain grisly fate, Erevan agreed to the terms of the job, delivering the package to Nuln, to a particular man , a man with one eye and a strong odor of onions, in a particular public house in the east of the city.
And so we find our erstwhile storyteller, on the forest road south tot Nuln, bow and pack over his shoulder, sword at his hip and a tongue ready with a merry tale.
