Aila of the Silver Elves was a proud woman, and certainly not the sort to allow arbritray laws and customs rule her life. It was this rebellious spirit that had ultimately led to her subjugation ending, and her new life as Noster of no birth beginning. It had been a clean break, and one that she had not regretted in all the intervening years. Of course she could feel sorrow, but living in the past was no way to be, particularly when there was so much ahead. A mere half century had passed, and Noster had managed to remain wonderfully inconspicuous. He took what he needed and nothing more, and where possible worked for his living. Honest work was difficult to come by for such a strange and solitary creature, any person worth his salt was inevitably wary of a boyish young elf turning up and asking to assist with menial tasks. Usually he was simply seen as a nuisance or a con artist. This rogue was remarkably average in every way. He was perhaps erring on the side of short for a male elf, but not to the point of being considered stunted. Crudely dyed brown hair was kept relatively tame under an equally crude and dirty cap, only a few wavy strands managed to escape from under it. The only two qualities Noster posessed thaat would perhaps draw attention to him, were his almost dangerously pale skin - a testament to the heritage he would always deny. Should anyone enquire, he was only a wood elf with a disease, a far safer explanation than the truth. And then were those piercing blue eyes, that had proved to be his undoing. He had been stocking up on supplies for impending travels, and had managed to have a run of bad luck, accumulating enough witnesses for him to be identified and brought to justice. The law enforcement had come to his room at dawn, taking him from his bed and depositing him in a cell in just a few minutes. And here he sat, only thankful that he had not removed the binding from his breast. Had Aila been in plain sight, there would have been a whole lot more explaining to do. As it was, Noster and his black rooted hair sat shivering in the cell, awaiting his punishment.