Some years ago, just before the Lunus Ultimus a little elf was born in little village hiding on the floors of the greatest forest of the eastern territory. The baby elf grew quickly into strong and fast young boy. At the age of six the boys mother, being an intuitive shaman, gave him his true name, a tradition dating back to the first settlers of the woods. Though the boy was strong and fast, and had a temper to match, she knew his heart truly only held love, and so she named him after the male counterpart to the Goddess of love, Borren.
Borren was a well behaved model student who, though very intelligent, seemed to be elsewhere in mind during class. He longed to hunt alongside his father, but his young age foiled his plans. His father would often tell him to be patient, but Borren could not help but to see himself as inadequate. He felt that his father excluded him because he could not shoot a bow and was heavy footed and somewhat clumsy.
His father only wanted to wait until the right time in his life, and around the age of thirteen, he knew this time was soon approaching. One night, before a particularly important hunt, Borrens father asked him to accompany him on a walk. His father explained to him that the next hunt would be long and he would not return for some time, but when he did he would start training him to hunt.
Immediately after his father left, Borren began preparing for his return. Even after months of waiting, and the return of all other hunters, Borren never lost faith in father. He compulsively readied himself for the return of his father, and remained in high hopes, until the day the Dagonii arrived.
The hulking beasts came into the village and brought with them a looming cloud of despair. They spoke in quiet with the village elders, and it was clear by the stress and sadness seen in the faces of the elders, that the Dog-men camping in the woods to the south came baring bad news.
Within a few nights of their arrival, their purpose was made clear to Borren and seven other members of his village. Borren was woken in the night to the sweating and sad face of an elder. He was brought out into the forest were he saw the others children, and his first true glimpse of the giants.
The beasts stood almost twice that of the adults in his village, and they looked angry. The short fur covering their body was contrast to the long scraggily fur hanging on their neck and face. They had huge hands, tipped with claws but their feet looked like that of a normal dog. The face was in no way human and looked to be a perfect replica of a dogs, except the eyes; the eyes were not at all elven. They peered into Borren with all the savagery of a beast, but with more hatred than any elf could hope to conjure up.
With the piercing gaze of the biggest and meanest looking creature locked into Borrens sight, the elders left the children alone with them, and their leader spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and choppy, almost like a bark.
You all belong to me now. He said loudly and suddenly as he began to pace back and forth along the eight terrified children. Youre tribe has abandoned you, and would sooner leave you to die than continue your care. That is the difference between our people. We do not cast aside our week and useless like trash. We find work more suitable for them. You have all been deemed worthless, but that does not mean you are without use. We will find use for you, and keep you fed. Such is our kind way. The monster turned away and stepped into the darkness, and the children were lead into a very large wooden cage on wheels that was to be pulled not by a hog, but by a strange tall dog monster.
Borren knew that the lies spoken by the leader cut into the others deeply and without grace, like a dull axe blade, but he was unfazed. He began to dream of his father returning home to find him gone, and hunting down the fowl animals, slaying them and freeing him. This dream is undoubtedly what kept him alive.
