Money
Gold: 680
Magic Items
Thieving Short sword +1
Darkleaf leather Armor +1
Boots of Stealth (heroic tier)
Amulet of Protection +1
Bio
My name is Tresena. I am the last of my Elven tribe. Many years ago my entire village was destroyed by the human race. My aunt tried to save both of us but she was shot down as we fled. I can only guess that I survived because I was too small to see. I was eight years old at the time and small for my age. I hid in the woods that night and woke the next morning starved and nearly frozen to death. Foolishly, I went back to my village. Most of it was burned to the ground and what was not was either smashed or scattered. My people, all family and friends, lay strewn about. Some were horribly dismembered; others killed clinging to their loved ones. I walked around and wept and, then my crying ceased and I could only stare emptily at my destroyed home. The sun went down and I began to realize how hungry and tired I was. I knew where our underground stores were kept and found only one that was undisturbed. The entrance to the storage place was quite a way from the village in a tree and the handle was hard to find even when you did know where it was. I knew where the handle was but in the fading light it took me a while to find it. I found the torch at the entrance easily and lit it with the stone and metal that was there for that purpose. Wearily, I descended the steps and as I neared the bottom I began to think that perhaps someone had escaped here and was still hiding. I quickened my pace only to find that my hopes were futile, I was alone. I ate some bread and an apple from the stores and fell asleep there on the floor. The next day I got up with purpose, I had survived the massacre and I would still survive for my family, for my tribe, and I would find the humans who murdered my village and make them pay. I gathered what food from the stores I could fit in a blanket without it becoming too large for me to carry. I also took some candles and a knife. I had nothing useful on me; I had no pin in my hair or even any pockets in my dress. I decided to follow the obvious trail of the humans; their horses’ hooves had torn up the earth almost as much as the humans themselves tore my village to pieces. I looked once more at my shattered home and turned my head toward my new purpose. I had no plan, no way to find revenge, but as I walked one formed in my mind, a good one too. I would follow the humans and kill them with my knife. It wasn’t that simple of course, but that was what my eight year old self broke it down to. I followed the trail for three days and when it finally found its end I was out of food, dirty, exhausted, and lonely. Before I could kill anyone I needed to eat, but to eat I needed food or money and the only ways to get either of those, was to take them. I rather liked the idea of thievery, it worked well with my ideas of revenge. First, I tied my hair back so I could hide my pointed ears; the humans in the area discriminated against any non humans. I used a string I tore from my blanket. I found a water trough near the edge of town and I had intended to wash my face but I realized that the dirt might hide my distinctive Elven facial features. I needed a new dress though, one that was not of Elven design so I snuck around the edge of the town, not daring to enter it, and I found a line of laundry drying that had a dress about my size that I rather disliked but forced myself to steal. All of the human style clothing looked horrid to me, and on me, but in order to keep my vendetta of revenge I must do what I must do. That was the first thing that I ever stole, and though I thought I was being sneaky I am sure that I would have gotten caught had anyone been in that house. I kept my shoes because the dress was long enough to cover them and they were comfortable. I found an apple tree in the garden of a house that had no light on and ate five and I slept in a barn that night. The next day I attempted to find the men who had destroyed my village but I soon found that no one would respect an eight year old (who looked even younger) who seemed to be homeless or either just plain dirty. My disgust for humans grew as I tried different tactics such as washing my face (then they said, “I’m not tellin’ you a thin’! Yer face looks distrustful!”), stealing nicer clothes, and talking to the homeless people (they did not know me and so they did not talk to me). Even though every attempt failed I kept trying, but soon the trail ran cold and I tried in vain. The next few years I stole from a town until they began to become aware of my presence. I broke out of a few cells and a few cellars, got enslaved twice, was nearly killed several times and I had to kill a few people. I stole what I wanted, talked to many, and trusted no one; always listening for some hint of the humans who raided my village. When I was fourteen I had been stealing long enough to actually know what I was doing and I did not get caught, no more guilt crossed my face. I could live wherever I wanted and for however long I needed. I considered going back to the town I first came to in order to find those men but they had probably long left that place in order to quench their bloodlust. I had given up asking about them and had begun listening in taverns and on streets. This also provided me with information about where possible targets for thievery may be and when to strike. I have since gone through many towns, many fences, and many acquaintances have betrayed me or been killed. I have recently joined a group of questers in order to help me get closer to more valuable targets. Getting honest gold from questing doesn’t hurt either, but I trust no one. I am always biding my time for revenge upon the humans who slaughtered my kind. Always waiting and looking.
