Dorstom Far'nal - Ta'Vaalor

There have been many who have asked my tale, yet few have heard it. It is not that I consider my past a secret, but I simply have little patience for retelling my history over and over, so I hope to put pen to parchment this once, and not bother with it again.

First, a quick introduction. My name is Dorstom Far'nal, son of Marentil Far'nal. I am an experienced healer and warrior as well as a servant of Mularos. Since beginning my career as an empath, I have lived in Ta'Vaalor, and though I sometimes roam the Lands, I still consider that town my home.

As to my family, my father was a trade factor, but was killed a few months ago by raiders while working the route between Rhoska-Tor and the Landing. My mother, Frelana, remains at home; my sister, Dorinsa, married young and lives in Solhaven where she is furthering her training as a wizard. I had an elder brother by the name of Dorslam, but he has also passed through Lorminstra's gates, the victim of a Krolvin attack. You have no doubt noticed the prevalence of the prefix 'Dor' in mine and my siblings' names. This is my mother's way of honoring her own father, Dorenas, by making each of her children his namesake in a way.

That should be enough background - I can properly begin my story now.

Many who know me now would be surprised to hear it, but I came to Ta'Vaalor with nothing but good intentions. King Tyrnian had just opened that town's gates to trade, and word had been spread that the Faendryl who had entered that town had found it less than hospitable. As such, I chose to begin my career there, that my brethren would find a friendly hand in their need.

My first few months in Ta'Vaalor were surprisingly pleasant. I met many people, of all races, and almost all were polite and welcoming. Even many of the native Vaalorians, renowned for their arrogance, seemed to be pleased to see the newcomers in their town. There were exceptions, of course - the Guard Captain and all of the First Militia regard we Faendryl as scum, and other non-elves are only slightly better - but most were at least willing to accept that their King had made the right decision in opening the trade routes.

I quickly came to the realization that my talents as a healer were valued by all, not just those of my own race, and I gave of myself to help all that needed it. I watched the formation of the Second Militia, and though I believe I would have been welcomed, I refused to involve myself in it, believing that I could serve the city better as my own man.

As I grew in my knowledge, both from the mentoring of elder healers who visited the city and from my own mistakes, I began to pass my own knowledge on to the younger healers of the myriad races that had come to Ta'Vaalor. I also discovered something unexpected about myself - as I began to deal with more serious wounds and traumas, the realization came upon me that I enjoyed the pain of the wounds I was taking as much as I enjoyed helping those whose injuries I healed.

At first, I was troubled, but I began to understand that those I helped did not care why I healed them, only that I did so. The fact that my patients did not see the pain caused by the service I offered exacerbated the isolation I had been feeling since many of my friends had banded together to form the Militia, and I took a sabbatical to sort my thoughts out.

For the first time, I journeyed westward, visiting the caves of the dwarves and the human trading outpost known as the Landing. It was there that I first began to truly take notice of the Arkati, and who worshipped them, and it was there that a servant of the Suffering introduced me to Mularos. Under my guide's teachings, I learned to call upon my Lord's power, and to serve him faithfully.

It was also in the Landing that I realized just how callously people treated the healers they took for granted, and how some empaths encouraged the attitude. I vowed I would no longer offer my aid to just anyone - only to those I found worthy of my respect.

I returned to Ta'Vaalor a different person, and those who had counted on my aid in the past found that they could no longer take my help for granted. Many tried to understand what had changed, but few realized the truth - that I was just as pleased to let them suffer as I was to heal them and suffer myself.

Despite this, and to my great amusement, King Tyrnian awarded me a grant of nobility shortly after my return, to reward my service to Ta'Vaalor. Many of the purebred Vaalorians were outraged at the thought of a Faendryl being named a Lord of their city, but it showed me that the King for whom I had a grudging respect was serious about opening Ta'Vaalor to the outside world and welcoming outsiders.

I began to hunt more, using the power I had discovered, and befriended several notable warriors. Though they followed the path of Voln, they were willing to accept my allegiance to one of the Lords of Lornon so long as I assisted them in their battle against the undead. I cared little for their noble cause one way or the other, but their prowess in combat earned my respect, and we made a formidable hunting party. I was quite capable of holding my own, and able to offer healing in the field to avoid interruption.

That brings me to today, and where you find me recording these memories. I write this while sitting in Zephyr Hall, amused at the destruction wreaked in the Landing by one I came to know in this very town. I will return to Ta'Vaalor shortly, and, should any of my comrades read this, I look forward to our further adventures.