Bal'a dash, malanore. What do you seek from me?
A story.
Is that all?
Well then a story it is.
When I was a young child, around 20 or 23, I ran around as a middle class elf, happily enjoying the forever spring time my ancestors bestowed upon this beautiful land. My village was recently built, after winning a territorial war against the native trolls. Alas, this land didn't last forever. The trolls came back once again, stronger than before, with better weapons than their usual crude axes and shields. There were only a couple guards stationed there, though not the usual hunky and powerful ones stationed at the capital. With a fight being put up, the guards were slain by the trolls, although with their army of some odd 20 trolls, the guards nicked off a few. Yet then that left the small village to fend for themselves. My parents shoved me into their bedrooms, keeping me away from the attackers. I didn't question them. Hearing a shatter, I scurried under the bed, crying and hearing thunderous footsteps stomp around my parent's bedroom, flipping items over, looking for anything. He then got to the bed and smiled once he moved it away, revealing my hiding spot. He spoke in his own barbaric language, although it was clear of his intentions. Kidnapping. I screamed and flailed, although it was all in vain, as he picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder as if I was a bag. He then left my house, able to fully hear the screams of anguish of my friends as he walked away from my whole life.
While the Troll ventured into the forest, he seemed to be slightly nervous about something, hence his constant mutterings in his own language. There was an animal like screech 30 yards away, although I couldn't see it, it meant bad news. He took off like a bat out of hell, although the screeching got closer and closer, probably closing in on us from the side, since I wasn't able to see anything from behind. Then, something struck him from beside, and knocked the both of us over. His grip was still tight around my legs, although I still tried to get away. Although, my squirming started to cease once I saw what his him, and now attacking him was a huge DragonHawk. Knowing they are overly feral, I didn't expect it to attack. Although it did, viciously. The Troll finally let me go, though I was frozen in place, with terror and awe of this strange occurrence. The Troll then started to flee, seemingly able to take no more, though the DragonHawk didn't let him go, and continued to attack him, until he fell to the ground presumably dead. It then looked at me, and flew slowly towards me. I started to back up slowly, though it didn't seem to show any means of attack. It then started to hold me within it's wings, soothing my poor frail heart.
Once I was sure the fighting had ceased, I returned home, with the DragonHawk keeping close by. It was hard for me to look, though it was a massacre. Bodies everywhere, dead, decapitated, or... bitten. It was terrifying since I haven't seen anything like that in my whole short life. I just burst out in tears, scared out of my mind. I heard splashes in the blood puddles, dashing towards me, and I heard the soothing breath of my father. He was crying himself, though hugged me whispering it was going to be alright.
The day later I found out my mother had died in that battle, and was depressed for about 30 years. The DragonHawk that saved my life was named Terrokin and has stuck with me ever since the day. I've now aged 146 years, and counting. My purpose is to fight the Native Trolls, ridding their existence from this world. I've only a bias against the Forsaken, for that I theorize they cannibalized some of my village members and gave no aid to the attack. Just vultures. Carrion. I despise them. I live alone, dwelling in the most southern part of Eversong Woods, keeping friends close, but the enemy closer. As far as of now, I have no acquaintances, nor anyone I'm seeing. I fear I may drift from my responsibilities to fight for the right thing.