My Name is Quintus Idlestar

I was born as the bastard son to a well off Elven noble and his mistress. The story begins 300 years before my birth. My father, a man named Qvotem Idlestar, was the one and only heir of what could only be called a run-down house. The family had come to ruin through a disgraceful union between Elf and Man. Qvotem's widowed mother fell in love with a man of lawless nature, one who she showered with gifts and lovelies until it dragged the house to the edge of poverty. After years of struggling to recover from this downward spiral, her lover cut all ties and floated on to the next flower in his life. My grandmother flung herself from the highest tops of the spires, overcome with her grief for her second lost love.

A century and a half later, after being abandoned to his fate by his woe-struck mother, Qvotem scrambled and clawed his way through the bureaucracy that was the Elven courts. This is where he found and fell for my mother Lyla Aeradel, a maiden of the court and the fourth daughter to Lord Ainron Aeradel. Though this love was not to be sanctioned by her father, and she was married off to another, an influential noble by the name Drailon Lithos. After feeling the heartbreak that led to my Grandmother's untimely end my father swore never to marry, unless it was to Lyla my mother.

Fifty years later I was born as Lyla's second son, though obviously not the son of her husband. Lyla was publicly ridiculed and humiliated by her husband, Drailon. Being the romantic my father was, he challenged Drailon to a dual. This right is rarely called upon, and ever rarer in Elven culture. The dual was to the death as Lyla's husband was enraged by my birth and this challenge. After a bloody and brutal dual, much unlike the flowing and beautiful swordsmanship the Elves are known for, my father stood victorious over Lord Lithos' limp body.

Though never officially married my mother and father lived a happy and recluse life until my adolescence when my training in the arts and blade were to begin. Upon the anointment to adulthood my father's past came back to bite, with a vengeance. Drailon's heir, Edendur came to avenge his late father's death. Though not through challenge, but through underhanded means. Edendur wished my father to suffer, and so he hired a half-elven assassin to poison my mother though not with the goal to kill her. The poison my mother was supposed to consume was given to my father through a series of circumstances and sent him into a state of mindlessness. Edendur used this to his advantage and was able to lay the blame on my mother, who was imprisoned in the Elven capitol, awaiting proper evidence to be found to clear her name or exile her.

By chance and chance alone I caught a glimpse of the poisoner as he and Edendur exchanged coin, though it is his word against mine. I plan on tracking this half-elven assassin down, his features forever ingrained in my mind. This is my only path to my mother's freedom, and I hope that I can outpace the slow and ever careful Elven court in this case.

It's been a few months since then, and I've lost track of the assassin. During my months of travel I've learned to mingle with his crowd, picking up a few trick here and there that have helped me on the road. I still search the underworld for the foot trail of the Half-elf.