They say that long ago, the Creator stepped upon the barren lands of His creation and saw a young human boy, sleeping and unknowing of Him, and appeared to him within his dreams: the First Prophet. And it was such that the First Prophet came to establish the Holy City upon the site where the Creator met him, and those who heard him believed him and gave praise to the Creator. In time, there began the building of a High Temple in which the Creator would be worshiped, and the First Prophet named a Grand Curate and the Creator gave the Curate powers similar to the ones He had given the First Prophet. The Grand Curate was given dominion over the Holy City and over the temples and the priesthood and all others who were ordained in the Creator’s name and to His service. However, the Grand Curate was not as benevolent as the First Prophet, and as such when those who did not believe in the Creator spurned and cursed His name and assaulted those in the Holy City, the Grand Curate cursed them in return, creating the first monsters. Each of them became a different species according to their own actions. And thus, in an act of hated, these monsters swore vengeance against the innocent, humans and dwarves and elves alike. The Creator, however, was angered by the Grand Curate and, in his sleep, took his breath. For because the Grand Curate served the Creator well, the Creator gave him a peaceful death. That morning, the First Prophet declared the the man’s disciple, a girl by the name of Alessandria, the new Grand Cleric (for a cleric is the female equivalent of a curate). And soon enough, the Creator would have the First Prophet seek out his successor, passing the gift given to him by the Creator onto his successor before he too passed away in his sleep. And as such became a cycle of succession until all of the civilizations and peoples revered the Creator, save demons and those of the monster breeds who still scorned Him. But, as time passes, we now enter the one thousandth year after the Holy City was founded, marked as 1300 in the shared calendar. It was in this year, that the Holy City was put under siege by a unified force of monsters and was overrun, with only a small few escaping. Among them was the current Grand Cleric, and she sought refuge with the humans. But as she pondered what to do the monsters charged further, into the elven frontiers and ruins alike as they spread farther north more than they did to the human and dwarven territories to the other directions. Once she realized that she had made an error, she began to call for a Crusade to free the Holy City and the areas that had been overrun by the monsterkind. And the world heeded her call, assembling great armies to drive out the monster hordes. Humans and dwarves and elves, even those who were once considered monsters but now revered the Creator, all heeded her call and those willing formed an army of crusaders. Among these crusaders were the Arcane Knights, an order of spellcasting warriors who were dedicating to protect the innocent from the monster hordes. These warriors, who are formal knights after being knighted by the lord of their province of birth upon completing their training and initiation, were often given to the order at young ages, sometimes as babies. One such case was with an elf who, along with his brother’s-in-arms, went to the Holy City to reclaim the territory. His name is Endymion Koraaviik, and he was one of the most formidable of the Knights’ spellswords. As a young child he was left in the hands of an Arcane Knight who had saved a small elven village on the outskirts of the territory, one that barely escaped being overrun by moon-addled werebeasts. The boy was named by his new mother after the great sorcerer of legend by the same name, who supposedly could walk into the dreams of others. This name was imparted to him because in her dream the night the child was given to her she saw the boy performing great spells and proving himself against his foes. But before that could happen, the boy had much training undergo. His adopted mother, Alessia Koraaviik, was a human healer for the Arcane Knights and one of the order’s lieutenants. She herself became Endymion’s first instructor, and with her guidance he began to unlock his potential. He chose the path of the sword, favoring the longsword especially, and when it came to elemental magic the way of the storm. But soon enough he go from lightning bolts to transmutation and other forms of sorcery and healing, as Arcane Knights both protect and preserve the life of the people they served. Endymion quickly rose through the ranks, becoming an Arcane Knight in what appeared to be record time. He was eighteen at the time, and when he was twenty-three and went of to the crusade he was made a sergeant with a small team of Arcane Knights under his command. Later on, during the crusade, his ingenious tactics led rise to a promotion to lieutenant. At this time he had a larger group of Knights under his command and worked with the elven crusaders on reclaiming the northern territory. By this time, when the crusades were nearly complete, Endymion had grown into a elven man of twenty-five years, standing slightly taller than the average elf at six feet even. His hair was a faded auburn and, as is custom with warriors, went down below his chin in length. His body had various scars from multiple conflicts and, seared into his palms were the seals of the Arcane Knights. Upon his left hand was seared the Seal of Vigilance, which was a heptagram with a flame atop a shield in the center. On his right hand, however, was the Seal of Sacrifice, which appeared to be an “x” atop of a laurel wreath and sword. His build was lean yet muscular, typical for one with a myrmidon fighting style such as his own. The campaign he was apart of mainly encountered orcs and demons, working to run them out of elvish cities and ruins. These ranged from sprawling ancient citadels to lesser villages where the elves had either all been massacred, enslaved, or forced into giving tribute to the monsters. Endymion, as he went about his campaign, did his best to avoid bloodshed and convert those who assaulted the innocent to the Creator. Quite unfortunately, this rarely worked as those he opposed were adamant and too stuck in their ways to plead for mercy until it was too late. Soon enough, Endymion and his fellow Arcane Knights, along with the elvish forces, joined with the bulk of the crusaders and the Grand Cleric at the gates of the Holy City, where they attempted to convince the occupiers of the Holy City to abandon it peacefully, only for the crusaders to lay siege to the Holy City. The siege lasted for two weeks before the crusaders were able to break through to the inside of the City and begin to lay waste to those who had long ransacked it and subjected all those within it to slavery. The streets of the most sacred placed on the planet ran red with the blood of the persecuted, their oppressors, and those who dared to reclaim it. Three days passed until the entirety of the Holy City was freed, and another week passed as the crusaders cleaned the Holy City and repaired the damaged buildings, as well as proper funeral rites for the innocent and pyres and penance for the guilty. After this, the Grand Cleric resumed her service in the High Temple, blessing the crusaders and absolving them of all of their sins. With this, Endymion, after receiving the orders from his mother, who was now Knight-Commander of their order, soon began to head into the south with a group of his fellow knights, only to be ambushed by a company of slavers. There were so few knights and so many of the enemy, they were quickly overpowered. Some were killed in the struggle, others, like Endymion, were taken and bound to be sold as slaves. When he awoke, Endymion saw all the other Knights who had survived, and like him they were all stripped of their armor but not their weaponry, as since most of the bidders were from the orcish tribes and clans these knights kept their weapons with their purchase as a matter of honor, even in slavery. As his senses finally came to, he felt that he was being pulled by his chains to the main platform. Looking at his irons they covered in runes, designed to prevent him from any form of spellcasting and sorcery. He was dressed in little more than than a knee-length loincloth resembling a kilt and his aforementioned chains (which were connected on his wrists, ankles, and neck). His longsword, called Stormfang, was in the hands of the handler, and soon handed to the auctioneer. It was then that the auctioneer called out for bids, though they were ranging from livestock to gold in the offers. He was soon sold for what seemed like an appropriate price, with his sword and his lead given to the chieftain that bought him. After this he was taken northwest into the mountains where this orc’s tribe now lived, but they did show him the route. Instead, they knocked him out with a club to the back of the head after they threw him into one of the wagons. The next thing he knew when he was conscious once more was that his lead and sword was given to a female orc (or possibly a half-orc, given aesthetics), one that was undoubtedly the chieftain’s daughter. After a while, in the presence of the chieftain, his family, and those in the stone-hewn hall he had found himself within, the now-enslaved elf rose and spoke, angered in a bass voice. “Who… who are you…? Where am… I? Why have you… enslaved me?” His lungs were adapting to climate, but he had also lost a non-insignificant amount of blood during these travels, and as such his voice was partially raspy. As he coughed and hacked slightly he took this chance to observe them, and to learn what he could. There was no telling how long he'd be like this, after all.