Kye Valen

I was born in the glorious Elven city of Lithanderil. I was first son to Sho’eranel, a reputed seer and advisor to the High Elven Council. It was he who granted me the name, Jel’sutho’edrin. My father was treated with respect throughout the community, but I had yet to prove my worth not only to my family, but to my city, and further more... my race. I was tutored in the sciences, mathematical theories, and the many arts of creativity.  It became quite clear to me why our race was above the others, our ability to comprehend knowledge was superior to all those inferior races who fell below us.

Although I was never strong of body, I was still trained in the art of battle. Fencing, mounted combat, strategy, and the graceful fluid movements of my race were taught in succession after I had gained suitable knowledge of warfare. But, while many of the high elven sons spent their time dueling, I remained in the city garden where I would sit and quietly paint. This is where I experienced ‘the Dreaming’, as I have come to call it, for the first time.

I would sit and paint among the beautiful flora and magnificent greenery of the garden proper. Elves that traveled by would sometimes comment on my works, while others simply ignored me. Other events were also held in the great garden, including public speeches and other society functions. As I cascaded my brilliant spectrum of color across the canvas my mind would drift along as well. It seemed like other elves thoughts weaved their way into my paintings, as did their hidden conversation. Once after I had ’overheard’ a compliment I had responded with my gratitude. The elf I had spoken to looked at me in puzzlement and then continued on his way. It was then that I had started to actually notice that what I had been hearing had not been spoken aloud.

These events continued along for sometime, but always uncontrolled. I spoke to my father about the matter and he responded that his ability to see did not develop in that manner. He continued to work with me, trying to help me grasp hold and gain control, but it was to no avail.

One fateful night at the great tavern I noticed another elf becoming quite obnoxious to a beautiful young elven maiden. Deciding that he was acting uncouth and out of line I approached him simply stating that his manners were outrageous, and this lady deserved an elf who was more dignified. I could feel his anger rage as he instantly challenged me to a duel, one to the death. It was not until he drew his blade from his scabbard until I noticed his family crest. Then I realized who he was... Collanendrill. His father was head of the Elven Council.

I thought I would find death on this arrogant bastards sword, but it seemed fate was in my hands that night. I drew my sword in defense and proceeded into honor bound combat.   My senses heightened, with every breath I took I could feel his heart pumping. His thoughts poured into my mind, thoughts of hate, anger, and strategy. Knowing his strategy I managed to disarm him and hold his throat at bay with the tip of my rapier. I spit out an insult again to his honor and spared his life. Then I left the tavern in haste, accompanied by the elven maiden. I knew he would never let that moment go, perhaps I should have killed him and faced the wrath of his father. It might have been shorter and not so long lived.

On the following night I awoke to find my fathers house aflame. I managed to wake my family and escape. I realized my family would never be safe while I remained here. That day I packed my belongings and left the great city behind.

Several days into my travels I was attacked by a small band of those sluggish creatures know as orcs. Unfortunately for myself, they overpowered me and were preparing to cook me for their dinner. Once again fate played into my hand as the orc camp was suddenly under seige by an unusual group of adventurers. They slaughtered the orcs, ransacked the camp, and realized me. They asked if I would journey with them, and I quickly agreed. The road was harsh for a lone elf of my build and power. I came to know this group well and traveled with them for a great while and our friendship grew. The group consisted of a variety of people; Jadrek Kethry, a human ranger; Sardil Fardon, a renegade drow assassin; Sorale, a centaur healer; Uga Drana, a half-giant barbarian; and Dakir Araine, mage of the flame. It was in this group that I learned to control my mental abilities. I would expand my mind to a new plane only to find another horizon slightly out of reach.

We would sit about the fire in camp and listen to the stories Jadrek would create and tell about an adventurer named ‘Kye Valen’. The stories filled us with laughter, fear, and excitement. I would cherish these stories for the remainder of my long life.

One night, during a session of Jadrek’s stories we were ambushed. I was the target of their swift assault. Jadrek took the arrows that were aimed for me and fell. The camp broke and fled. I lost track of the party and managed to escape as well. I could never locate any of them after the combat. Chances are that they fell to the forces that attacked us. I knew the assault was targeted on my person, and I could feel the anger that was behind it. Not wanting to endanger anyone else I took the name of ‘Kye Valen’ and departed into solitude. Or so I thought.