Tauge Heridon
Naturally running through the forests of Halfrond, Tauge checked the The Alchemist's Book of Alchemy a second time.
"Mmmmhmmm, so then the plant that I'm looking for is....this one." He pointed to a strange, purple mushroom at the base of the black tree, one of many in this spooky place. However, Tauge was not afraid of the ominous presence from the forest; he welcomed it. It was a darkness he knew well....
Sweeping up the purple mushroom and storing it in his black lab coat, he sprinted off back to his home at the fringe of both the forest and the town of Halfrond, his soft, leather boots providing little hindrance as he stepped over roots, ducked under branches, and sidestepped through the trees while his shoulder length hair followed him faithfully.
Sunset hit the workshop and residence of Tauge Heridon when he arrived back with the strange shroom. He was greeted with the usual treatment from the townsfolk: a broken window, a shattered door, a few papers thrown here and there, but this didn't bother the chemist's mind. Throwing open the trap door toward the back of his house, he climbed in, and shut the door.
It always took a few minutes to readjust his eyes to the light but it was those moments which he treasured most. You cannot see, you cannot harm nor be harmed, and you cannot know. Knowing is bad sometimes, but when it's good, write it down because you don't want to know later. This time he dreamed of the day when he lost it all: his life, his name, his sanity. It all went up into flames:
"Smoke rose from mansion which was once called home, screams came from the inside, chilling the bones. Arrest, Trial, Banishment, and here you are, Old Heridon, living undergrond, again," thought the man. A tear ran down his face at the thought. Tauge Heridon wasn't even that old by the standards of Dark Elves, but with what he experienced, it seemed like a lifetime. The tear droped off of his face, seeping in to his leather vest.
Suddenly, a pulse was felt by the depressed chemist. Tauge opened his eyes It was a pulse of power. He blinked twice... and the power felt good. It was calling to him, promising redemption, life, happiness....things that were from the past. Despite his disposition, the Elf wasn't falling for folly any time soon. He was a couple decades too old for that. Grabbing his bow and his seventy willow arrows, he figured that the time was right. The time to leave this hell-hole of exile.
"Sorry, good shroom. It looks like your death was yet in vain." The cave was now better illuminated, the moon seeping into the room. Pulling out the Mushroom from his lab coat again, he saw that it was glowing, but making poisons out of Harathian Mushrooms would have to wait another time. There was an evil out in the world.
"An evil in which requires my vegence," thought Tauge, and he marched back towards the trap door, leaving the mushroom to regrow inside the cave. He wouldn't be able to keep it tidy much longer, with all of the angry mobs. Tauge decided to move away after the job was done. He picked up the knife, opened the trap door, stabbed the man who ran towards him, and left towards the source of the evil under cover of night.