Long ago, on the Island of Corsyka there was a child born to Ancaion, the Elven ruler of the villages, and Narissah, a human woman, his wife. That child was me, Spindal.

Even though I was considered a prince we lived a simple and plain life. My father's swordmaster, Agroe, attempted to teach me the basics of swordplay, I was not exceptional with swords or daggers and definitely not a good student. I was always off performing mischief with the other children.

Shortly after my fourteenth birthday, alarms rang though the villages and I was whisked away by Ancaion's guards into his chambers where the elders had already convened, their eyes reflecting the panic in their hearts. While I sat there, confused, it slowly became clearer to me what was happening, an ancient army sealed away in a place I thought to be merely a bedtime story was on the verge of being released, with nothing my father or elders could do to prevent it. Plans were set in motion to defend against the forthcoming army.

Over the next two weeks, I watched from the window of my bedroom, in which I was now a prisoner. As darkness fell one eve, people seemed especially nervous and jumping even then I simply stared into the night sky restlessly, not aware of the gravity of the situation. However, I was soon brought up to speed as night was quickly turned into burning day.

The "army" were dragons, being lead by another thing I believed to be a story to keep children in line, Dethfirru, a man...a thing...who was able to control all dragons, save for one.

A massive battle, one of hundreds to come, quickly began to rage in front of me. I was not out of the fray for long, as the wall that was previously supporting my window, was reduced to little more than rubble. Armed with a single sword, I was faced with creatures, the smallest, and most plentiful of the army standing twice the size of men. I was only able to survive due to the acrobatic skills I inherited from my father's blood.

Not long after, I was rescued by Agroe and taken into the spell-weavers chamber, where my father and his staff were waiting. He gave me a simple nod as a sad smile crossed his lips and then the room went blurry.

When I awoke I was staring face-to-face with the largest dragon I had ever laid sight upon. I found myself panicking, looking for something, anything, to defend myself with or give myself an opportunity to flee, until the creature spoke into my mind.

This huge black dragon was Corsyka, our island's namesake. He had agreed to take me from the war to continue my spiritual training and to hone my body. Time went fast, it seemed as soon as I started to get to know this creature, it was time for me to search out a new land. A land of Heros. His final words to me, "Remember always what you have learned here", after this was said a searing pain shot through my arm, I dropped to the deck of my small ship as the world slowly went black. When I awoke, I was far from my homeland and a black dragon had burned into my flesh.

My two-year long quest finally came to an end when I reached the shores of Norland. Seventeen years of age, on a land I was now supposed to make my home. I had no idea where to begin. I wandered the streets for many days, doing what I could for enough gold to purchase a meagre amount of food. Until a man, a rogue, put me on the path.

I had seen the power of assassination and was told Fink could help me learn. I set out to locate Fink and after walking in many circles and fulfilling his quest I joined the Rogue's Guild in search of the power and skills to go back to my island and rid it of the menace that plagued it.

During my countless years with the Rogues' Guild I found much more than I could have hoped and my goals changed from merely power, to friendship and mentoring, I was even a leader in my younger days. All the while I honed my skills, and worshipped the art of stealth, the art of hunting. I became a leader of my temple, and was until the departure of my Immortal, Tarelna, though I continued to worship stealth and hunt for many decades.

When my time in these lands began to wind down, I left for my home, my island. I found a war ravaged land, charred landscaping wherever I looked. There, I became a mentor, and then a man worthy of the title, Prince. For many more years, I did as I promised myself I would do, rid my land of dragons, all of them, but one. My father and I hunted them down ruthlessly without mercy. Only after we seemingly finished our quest did I stop to mourn for my mother, who died an old woman. Soon after, I returned back to Norland with the same bloodlust for dragons, a dark cloud over my soul. Only through the magics of a mad wizard and the love of a female warrior did I find a balance within myself. Though a side effect of the wizard?s spells was that all trace of my mother's blood was taken from my body, I was left a full-blooded elf.

For many years I only made small appearances in Norland, short trips from my homeland, looking for something worthwhile of my time. I found it the day Silk, with the help of Axx, plunged his dagger into the warlock, Varnius. As a result of the happenings there after, Silk ascended to an Immortal. The Immortal of Shadows. After over a century I now have another faith to devote myself to.