Corvinyr Sylvain

The boy was fey-touched, the elders said. Since he was old enough to crawl he seemed set apart from the other younglings. While they played safely beneath the boughs of their ancestral trees, he’d wander deep into the mountains- often disappearing for days at a time. He always came back, scraped and bruised, yet never revealing where he went or what he did. As his elders punished him time and time again, they secretly grew to respect his tenacity.

By the time he’d reached maturity, he was already a notorious acrobat and budding swordsman. Within a few years time, he’d taken the name Corvinyr Sylvain, several lovers, and enough gold to set out adventuring.