To say very little is known is to be as straight as his bow string, but as stories are told that doesn't mean there isn't a great deal to say. This is a story in the making and its origins follow long and forgotten paths. Mothers have oft put the fear of 'the mark' into their children in order to keep them quiet at night. Call it a 'mothers tale' if you will! To lock it away in some dusty corner of your mind as a childhood nightmare, however, is as foolish as going Felbarg fishing in days of Summer End. Kander, is one such fool to whom our tale is most pertinent. He never even enjoyed Felbarg fishing at any rate... but that's another story. It was a strange night for the inhabitants of the farming community of an unknown village 8 days walk North from Lewiston. Olidia Gicien, the village elder, was found in the wee hours of the morning scratching at the soil in front of the 'Padush Stone'. The Padush Stone, found at the centre of the village, is thought to be all that remains of a great statue. If it was destroyed, stolen or removed intentionally was anyone's guess as to who or what Padush was equally... a hero, a king, a bard? Olidia seemed to want answers now, her fingers were bleeding from ripping at the top soil... she was jittery, nervous, almost fearful but above all - single minded in grabbing from the ground with her own fists the quarry she sought. She muttered to herself over and over... "Dear Lord not here, let it not start here! I beg thee... Not here!" Olidia died two days later from exhaustion and exposure half way between her home village and the eastern seas. She had apparently found her quarry, a small and exquisite necklace. Her fist was clenched shut over this fancy like a vice... and it would have been left like that, allowed to sink into the soil once more if it not was not for our unwitting Elf of the Sun, Kander of the kai. Kander had been out hunting this fine morning and stumbled on the recently departed Olidia. There he stood considering what had happened. Not reaching a conclusion, he decided that the least that this soul deserved was a fitting end to her life. Kander went about the preparations for the ‘Passage of Sunset', the Sun Elf burial ceremony. The last step in this passage was the ‘Anil-Lomoorfivel', as simple kiss to the forehead of the deceased before letting the last rays of the sun ignite the body and aid its passing. Kander leans over the body of Olidia to place the Anil-Lomoofivel on her forehead and notices a glint of light from her clenched fist. Not to her rob her seemingly only possession, he takes a closer look as it may determine where she was from or who she was... possibly why she had passed away. Gently but firmly prying finger by finger open from her clenched fist the artefact drops from her hand into his. Realising it was a neck chain, simple in design made from what was possibly the finest gold he would ever see. Why folk covet such things was always a mystery to him. The chain was attached to a simple medallion, shaped like a Winter Berry Leaf. Across the front of this leaf were three slashes, as if to mimic a wild animal slashing it. Holding it up to the fading sun, he reversed the medallion to discover a short inscription. It was a language that made no sense to him, but it immeadiatly suggested its meaning. 'Prort vogor pilo eridish pilort, Pri pilo shnak pilort' Roughly translated as 'You are my heart, hold my soul' There was more to the inscription but it had been etched out, all but one word near the end of its second and last line. 'Hagor' roughly traslated as 'Mark of Fire'. Kandor whispered the word 'Hagor' and went to place the neck chain around the neck of Olidia and complete the Anil-Lomoofivel. As nimble as he was, Kander never had time to react. Olidia was staring intently in to the eyes of Kandor, without warning, she sits up, turns, and swings the once clenched fist out towards the Sun Elf. No breath filled her lungs as she now placed her opened palm flatly on his chest. She clenches her fist and pulls his flimsy shirt from him. Her other hand flew towards Kander's exposed chest as if to claw at his heart... with three fingers extruding she scrapes down in one swift move leaving three paralell deep claw marks. As if to ape the marks on the medallion. She spat at the wound and hissed at him these final words... "Gilbeth, seek her out and aid her in the destruction of Fre..." she stutters, "Frefl...". She falls, not completing her message, letting go ouf Kander and is as lifeless as the moment she was discovered. The Anil-Lomoofivel never was completed as Kander was blinded the moment Olidia let go of him. He wandered for days, trying to make his way to aid. Confused and seemingly struck mad he was found by an unknown order of clerics on a well traveled path. They were on there way to Pranzis, taking pity on this seemingly lost and poor soul they fed him and dressed his chest wounds. On arrival in Pranzis he was left in the care of an assylum. For one year and one day he was caged away like an animal, with recovered sight and much of his sanity returned, he was releaed with a simple robe and the pendant he arrived with. Other than a few musical skills and some tracking ability he has no knowledge of who he is at all. A simple but incomplete message still rings in his mind... "Gilbeth, seek her out and aid her in the destruction of Frefl..." Although scarred his chests burns like furnace every time he considers what the words mean. For now Kander seeks to establish who he is and what has happened. Maybe there is a bard in this area of the world that may point his feet in the right direction. Dusting himself down, he sets foot outside the grounds of the city assylum... new clothes, perhaps a fine bow and without an instrument to earn a few coins... how else is he going to bend a few ears? Directions! 'Hmmmm...' he thought... that street urchin will know where to get a hot stew and a cheap mug of ale to mull his thoughts over. Kander, in the other direction, looks down the street and notices the sun setting... wasn't this where it all started?