My Name is Istivan Laga. I grew up in a farming community in Andoran, the town of Gronling. a small town with a welcoming view towards half-elves and half-orcs alike. Growing up there, with five half-orc and three half-elf families, I had no idea the rest of the world so often viewed us ‘half breeds’ with disgust. Alas, innocence does not last long in the world as it is.
I knew early on that the farming life was not for me, I could not stand the tedium. My sister Velia loves the farm, loves the cycle of the growing crops. But as my mother said, my sister is half-elf and half-wild. When I left years ago there was some suspicion that she was developing druidic powers.
For me, I looked forward to my Aunt Massara’s visits. She was fully human and was a traveling troubadour. Her visits would bring tales of far of places, exotic people, and adventures great and small. Her visits were a whirlwind of song and laughter that faded all too soon as she was off again. When I had turned 15, she and my parents surprised me by having me join her as an apprentice.
Those years were good years. I was called a freak more than once, chased a few times. Mainly though I learned, to sing, to dance, to be charming, cunning, coy. I learned the rudiments of swordplay, the rudiments of romance, and the rudiments of society. Through it all my aunt was my confidant, my mentor, and my friend.
The roads were dangerous, but we did well with a combination of caution, stealth, bravado, and bluster. It always got us by. Until it didn’t. One day we were surprised by a very large group of bandits as we traveled among the Palatinates counties in Ustalav. We were frequent travelers here, my Aunt always said Ustalav needed joy imported more than any other country, we were so common in fact that some Ustalavans didn’t wave their holy symbols at me anymore when they saw me. Nevertheless, this bandit group was large and surprisingly proficient not to give away their position beforehand. My Aunt tried, she tried to bully them, placate them, shame them. But their leader was impassive to it all. We handed over our goods, but they wanted us as well. Likely slavers. So we ran, and they pursued. We couldn’t shake them, so my Aunt said we should split up and meet in the town we had left two days before. And se we did. Except that was never her real plan. She hung back, caught their attention, and tried to lead them away from me. She succeeded, but it cost her life.
Thus I entered a dark phase of my life, and Ustalav suited my mood. What good was joy, laughter, song, in the face of depravity? I began studying weapons seriously. I stole when I needed, and I may have committed some less than legal activities towards vengeance. It was at the depths of my darkest mood that I met Professor Lorrimor. Turns out he had known my aunt somehow. He took me in, gave me a place at the academy. Eventually, he brought me to see that abandoning those things my Aunt and I had loved together would dishonor her sacrifices. I began to sing and dance again, but I know the value of a sharp blade and a willingness to use it. I owed the professor for bringing me back in reach of joy.
I received the letter of his death, but I was far away in Magnimar when it found me. I made all due haste, but a storm at sea shipwrecked me for days. I arrived in Ravengro weeks late, but apparently arriving not long after the other mourners had left. I paid my respects to Kendra and the Professor’s grave. I learned he had been murdered, and that the others who had come to his funeral were following his behest. I learned they had stopped some trouble at the prison there, and Kendra was kind enough to write me a letter of introduction. As I prepared to leave, it seemed one more batch of Zombies stirred from the old prison’s graveyard, so I stayed a bit longer to help out. After that I set out after the party, just missing them in Lepidstadt and the troubles there. Determined I set out until suddenly it seemed I had somehow gotten ahead of them. So here I reside, waiting for them to catch up.
