I spent most of my childhood in a small fishing community named Nepthenus, 
off of the westernmost tip of the Western Empire. I would say that I was born there, 
but that I cannot be sure of, for I was adopted, found, on the doorstep of my adopted 
parents, while I was still an infant. Of my true parents I know nothing, only that 
for some reason they felt that it was necessary to leave me, abandoned and alone, on 
this stranger's doorstep.  
	
	In the house where they left me lived an elven family lived named Alexand. 
The father, Xavier Alexand, a mind mage and pillar of the community, and Winifred, 
an well-educated scholar, loving wife and mother to a young boy named Sebastian. 
They gave me the name Quinn and treated me as if I was their own. It was a friendly 
town, the people simple and happy, though even then I could feel the worry in their 
hearts. At first I did not know why, and asked my father why everyone was so worried, 
and he told me that beyond this town there was a evil, corrupting the other towns, 
assassins guilds, thieves guilds, anarchy slowly tearing the very foundations of the 
Western Empire. I was shocked, and yet unbelieving, hoping that what he said was a 
lie. That everywhere was like Nepthenus, pure and simple. Anyway, there I spent my 
days as a child, letting the days pass with my two best friends, Kathrine and Damon, p
laying in the surf, doing children things. Then I turned twelve and the budding powers 
of a young master psionic appeared. I was in town, I remember, with my friends, buying 
sweets. Suddenly I could sense what the shopkeeper was thinking, felt his thoughts, he 
was angry because a group of men were trying to "protect" the store, offering "services" 
for an outrageous fee. I asked him what the "services" were and why the store needed 
protection. He told me it was none of my business and that I should go home to my 
father and tells him that it is impolite to eavesdrop if you are a psionic. When I 
told him, he seemed not surprised. He told me that he sensed that I had powers, but that 
it was early for them to manifest themselves. Then he tried a test on me. He asked me 
how long have I been able to sense the thoughts of others. A simple question, yes, but 
he asked me without talking, he asked me inside my head. So I answered him, for as long 
as I can remember I could feel other people's emotions, but feeling what they were thinking 
happened just in the candy store. That reply changed my entire life. I replied to him by 
telepathy, something he himself did not master until a few years ago. That night, the 
decision was made. I was to be sent to the Thothic School of Magic. My father himself 
had graduated with the highest honors a non-master psionic could receive, and my mother 
was once a professor there, though she had no psionic abilities herself. On my thirteenth 
birthday my classes were to begin. The only problem was that the school was not anywhere 
near Nepthenus, deep in the heart of the Western Empire, near Lord Itomas' Fifth Castle, 
in the glittering city of Hade. My father immediately sent for an application via magic 
pigeon the following day. By April I was admitted. 

	I admit, I was nervous. But who wouldn't be, a child, who had never been away from 
home, making a journey hundreds of miles away, to study for ten years on skills she did not 
know she had till lately nor know that she wanted to have. At first I was reluctant, I did 
not want to leave the comfort of my town, leave my friends behind. Leave Katherine, Damon, 
Fredrick, Grana, Tivet, Neptsu, Shana; human, elven, wolfen, goblin, we did not care what 
the other's parents did or what race we were, we were inseparable, and my leaving them was 
perhaps one of the hardest things to in my life at that time. We spent long hours on the 
docks, letting the tears spill forth, talking of memories of playing in the caves outside 
of town, of tormenting the poor old dwarven widow who lived next door, of picking fruit 
in the orchard at my uncle Gorn's place. Those months that I spent in anticipation of school 
were the months that I grew up, waiting for the last day of my childish freedom. 

	At last the day came. I kissed my family goodbye, and letter of admission in hand, 
left. I was sent with two escorts, reliable bodyguards that were good friends of my fathers, 
he had done them a favor or two over the years and escorted me at a discounted price. The 
journey was long and harsh, but with the aid of the gifts my father bought at the local 
alchemist's shop, my father's sister, Aunt Kaleen's shop, actually, the journey was bearable. 
For one month we traveled, through towns and cities all shiny and new, but scattered among 
the new buildings, beggars, half frozen, huddling to each other for warmth, wearing 
moth-eaten clothes, teeth missing, of all races. I remember the first one I ever encountered. 
It was while we were traveling through the city of Damask, a young city, the second we 
encountered on that journey, and I suppose that I could of done more for her than I did then.

	Her name was Shela, she said. She was homeless and hungry, full with child, and it 
would mean so much to her if I could but spare a coin or two, in order for her to just eat 
a little, sparing some money to save a poor hobgoblin's life, she said. I believed her. I 
took pity on her. The bodyguards, Herspha and Tsin, a wolfen couple, told me that she was 
a con artist, that she could not be trusted, and that she was lying, and I should leave 
her be. I dismissed what they said as paranoid delusions that it was obvious that she was 
in need. I had some change to spare, and a room isn't that expensive, that a meal couldn't 
cost me too much, and I was going to see to it she be put up at the same inn as us, next 
door. I suppose now that I must have been far to young and trusting to not see, even with 
my psionic eyes, that she was lying to me.  We got rooms at an inn not far from downtown 
Damask. Shela, riding with me on my horse, felt that it was necessary for her to become my 
servant, at least for the night, till we passed through, grateful for putting her in a room 
for a night and a meal in her belly. I wanted no such thing, only for her to be happy because 
of me. That night, while I was asleep, she creeped in my room and began going through my 
belongings. Luckily, Old Tsin, with the cunning instincts of the wolfen, awoke and grabbed 
the little hobgoblin by the wrist and was about to wring the life out of her when the noise 
awoke me and I screamed at him to stop. He did, and I pulled out of my backpack some money 
that I had and gave it to her, telling her that I had better not see her or any of her 
friends ever again. As we rode through the city the next morning, I swear out of the corner 
of my eye I saw her, sitting there on the streets, full aware that she could easily steal 
from another. I did not feel betrayed by this though, I felt that only if I could help her 
more, that this life as a beggar could have been prevented, I wanted to help her. 

	As I said, it was a long and hard journey, but we got there. The city of Hades was 
beautiful, and the school was in the heart of it, a gleaming jewel in the city. I bid 
farewell to the wolfen, and made my way inside. The next ten years of my life had begun 
at that moment. The training was harsh, and the Church of Light principles were drilled 
into me day and night. Attending all services was mandatory, and the rules were strict 
against not attending. After three unattended services (and there were three a day) one 
would expect a fast exit from the school and a ruined record as a Mind Mage, or whatever 
you were training to be. Over the next ten years I received training in psionics, though 
only lately have I been able to master those things I learnt there. I found myself in the 
library more often then not, looking up the old magic: runes, wards, and circles, I fascinated 
by the ancient lost arts. I was caught quite a few times being in the library instead of the 
gym were I was supposed to be, honing my mind and body together. I suppose that now that 
was to my disadvantage, because my combat skills are, well let’s say…lacking.  It was there 
at the school that I learned that although I believe in the ideals of the Church of Light, 
I believe in Ra, Isis, and Thoth, those teachings that the Church of Light preach might not 
always be true. The church should learn to practice what they preach. I can say this now 
because of one of my professors, scholar and high priest, a very learned man, I saw him one 
day, with one of the janitors of the school. I must mention that he was doing something, well 
let’s say not in line with him vow of chastity. That’s how I came be expelled. 
	
	So after just eight years, I found myself kicked out of school. I did not know how in 
the world that professor thought he would get away with it, having a school full of students 
who can read minds, but he thought so and before I could say anything about it he had me 
dismissed. I had just turned twenty-two, and felt that if I started a life in the city, I would 
make my father proud. I was looking for a job still when I sent a magic pigeon to my mother, 
telling her where I was. By the next day I found the same pigeon on the windowsill of the inn 
where I was staying. It seems back home they needed my help, my brother, training to be a 
knight, had rooted out a gang of thieves and in following fight was badly hurt, and they wanted 
me back home. So back I went.

	I stayed there for quite some time, helping my aunt run her alchemist shop, sweeping 
floors and doing odd jobs for her, never really doing anything of any importance for her, 
or anyone for that matter. I spent a lot of time nursing my brother, and honestly had a lot 
to do, but I was restless. By my fortieth birthday, most of my elven girl friends were 
pregnant, married, etc. and had a life started. I didn’t and I didn’t want to settle like them, 
I wanted to see the world, and I want to do some good in it. So that fateful day when my father, 
who I believed was my real father all along, told me, on the way to a small neighboring town 
that I was not his, I did not know what to think. As we went into one of the shops, the dwarven 
man gasped when he saw me and in one quick gesture made to stab my father as he cried out that 
he should of killed me a long time ago. In the scuffle that pursued soldiers entered, and I 
unnoticed checked to see if my father was okay and left. I had never met that man before. I 
knew I never could go back there. I was sorry and I knew I owed my adopted family a lot but I 
could not face them if I was to be a threat to their well being. So I sent one magic pigeon, 
explaining why I had to leave and walked on, left to find my place in life. I suppose that 
that choice was a long time in building, and was no surprise to them, but still I felt sorry 
for not explaining to tell in person, but I could be a threat to them. So on I walked an 
adventurer, no longer a child, leaving all.