Born to an obviously elven family, Therfalas grew up in a small town called Kaloth on the outskirts of the world. Since leaving the island nearly all that knew of its existence has been swallowed by the ocean.

He'd not been a very popular child here for he was one of very few full blooded elves the village had seen. The most peculiar of this was that his mother, Shalin, was indeed human. Never knowing a father left Therfalas somewhat sheltered from the world, his mother being of the worrying sort. Many children made fun of his long ears and elven eyes, even though many of them had the blood behind them. This fueled Therfalas' desire for complete solitude and rarely said a word to anyone in the village.

While rarely talking to the children, he always held lengthy conversations with Shalin. But whenever he asked about his father or the fact that he is an elf and she is not, Shalin abruptly changed the topic or had to complete some other task. Therfalas didn't mind so much seeing as his level of patience was much higher than the average citizen of Kaloth. This is most likely due to his elven blood.

Shalin had been widowed at 26, her husband lost at sea during a storm when returning from the mainlands. At 27 she was given Therfalas from an old childhood friend. Shalin was the only one who held the secrets of Therfalas' true history, sworn not to tell him of the family he never had until he was ready.

Shalin became Therfalas' only companion which is why he took it so hard when she became ill. As time progressed Shalin's condition became worse and worse. In mid-Spring just before her death she summoned Therfalas to her room, he needed to know and she was running out of time. Unknown to Therfalas, this would be his final day in Kaloth.

"Come Therfalas, I've a story to tell you," the now 74 year old woman said stoutly.

"There are other times for stories, you have to save your--."

"No! This has to be told now or it never will be." She situated herself and sat up in her bed looking at her now attentive 'son'. He was still young in elven years, but nearly as old as she was...how unfair time had treated her.

Sighing she closed her eyes and began to tell Therfalas of his past, atleast what all she knew.

"When i was much younger, the age of 27, an old friend came to me for help. He and his wife had become very ill from some unknown disease. Eventually it took both of their lives, but their son left with me. Their son is you, Therfalas. Your true name is Therfalas Tirigil, son of Dr'gan Tirigil an elven linguist, mage, and a true friend." She paused taking a sip of water and remembering him fondly. The cool liquid soothed her scratchy throat while trying to recall the features of her old friend.

Therfalas had a look of disbelief on his face, but deep down he knew it to be true.

"Of course you knew you wern't really my son, didn't you? Afterall, I've aged for nearly fifty years in front of you, and you look no older than I was when i took on the task of caring for you." She shook her head, "Now is not the time for such things, i have to finish."

"Dr'gan had discovered a new type of magic, but he refused to call it such, preferring to call it the art of extreme precision. I couldn't explain it, however he gave me something that might." She slowly slid open a drawer and pulled out a small leather-bound journal. Her hand slowly caressed over the cover of the book, looking at it very fondly. Reluctantly she held the book out to Therfalas asking him to take it. "What was once your fathers, is now where it belongs. This journal holds the answers to many questions, but not all. I was instructed to give it to you and tell you to go to Tel'Ruid, the last stronghold of all elves in this world. There you are to learn the elven language and read the journal of Dr'gan. Then you will learn of your past and family...maybe even the art your father spoke of so often. I would assume there are more journals similar to this one. Look for them Therfalas. You've lived in the dark about your true nature for far too long." The color suddenly faded from her face. "My mission is complete...now go Therfalas, I want you to remember for who i am, not a lifeless corpse. Amin hiraetha, Therfalas....Amin hiraetha." These last words made no sense to Therfalas, but before he could ask she was lost.

Per instruction of her will, her estate was sold and all of the money given to him to help him reach his destination. The only thing he had now was the Journal of Dr'gan, and another book about the elven language.

Looking down at the phrase guide he spoke aloud, "Amin hiraetha...I'm sorry. Sorry for leaving me? Sorry for not telling me sooner....or telling me more?" No matter it was too late for him to know now, and he understood this fact. Taking one last look at Kaloth he slowly turned and headed for the port, never turning back.

---

"This has to be it. This is the way that man in Yew told me to go."

Lights in the Silver Arrow blazed in the darkness of night, a soft laughter flowing into the nearby forest where he stood. It was truly a sight to see. Buildings all around were lit up and quite inviting. This has to be it...my new home. I only hope i don't relive my younger years...