Near the Spine of the World a small… secret elven kingdom lays hidden in a frozen valley. Allin’ayrre it was called, and it had been passed its prime since the beginning of the drow wars. The wars had weakened it passed the point of reconciliation; so many young, promising elves had left to help their kin to the south and never returned alive.
Such was the case with the parents of the young elf Mahvash Tasatir. She was a strange child, her hair was silvery white, her skin was a pale as one could get without being albino, and her eyes… they were a strange silver gray that changed tone depending on her mood. She was sensitive to things the other young elves were not: emotions, life… and death. Her parents were broken in the decision to leave her, but they could not leave their kin to die to the dark elves.
For a few months, the child was alright among all the other children, then suddenly, one day, she had become withdrawn, silent, and did not play with any of them, she was wiser, knew more, an intangible knowledge had come upon her. She knew the instant they had died to another’s hands. Two weeks later, a runner arrived at the palace and appeared before the king. After the runner left he gathered the head of each household, the council and the girl to his chambers.
“Guede and Anika Tasatir are dead, they died two weeks ago… The Eleventh of Fireseek under the full moon.”
A low mumble rose from those gathered, that was the exact day and time that the child had become withdrawn.
Mahvash looked up at the king with her silver eyes, they seem tinged slightly blue, he was caught up momentarily in her sad silence.
He looked to his people then.
“She needs a home. I know she is… different, but it is the least we can do for Guede and Anika.”
The people and the council nodded. At first, volunteers took her, but each gave up, the child was far to strange, and not only in looks, but in manner as well, She would know things, see things, it frightened them… they could see their own deaths in her eyes. After one of her caretakers died in his sleep after she had only been one night in his care, no one wanted her.
At a loss for what else to do with her, the King and the Council sent her to live at the Monastery that looked over the capital city.
For the first time in her life, Mahvash had a steady and regular beat to her life, waking with the rise of the sun, breakfast with the monks, lessons in reading, history, and what not with the librarians, lunch, lessons in self defense and meditation with the monks, the evening meal and devotions to the god they praised… Mahvash could not remember which one, nor did she care, he or she had done nothing for her, and never would. It was the time after the lessons and the devotions and the meals that the young elf lived for.
From the time she realized she was different from the others, only a few things drove her: Why. Why was she different, why did the others fear her, why did she know things? She went through the library, searching for her answers, searching for her why, and as she grew in the library, nothing but the search for the intangible knowledge she had felt that day long ago when her only link to emotion and life left her. The books entertained her, taught her things, she learned to control her facial expressions, her eyes, learned about what the elves had saw when they looked into her eyes.
Then finally upon the 100th anniversary of her parents’ deaths… she understood. The next day, she attended her lessons as she had become accustom to, acted just as the monks had taught her to act, but when it came time for her afternoon lesson with the head monk, he had no reaction time to be surprised when his prized pupil came at him with his own ceremonial dagger.
The intangible knowledge he had been seeking came to her then, it was the knowledge of death she had been looking for, she would never know it all, but she knew that in each person she brought suffering or death, she would gain the smallest bit of knowledge from the death.
She laughed coldly and pulled the dagger from his cooling corpse, and left his office… his last lesson was his best she had decided. The other monks soon found their last lessons taught as she “forced” it out of them.
Soon enough all the monks were dead and she dropped the dagger on her way out. It was time for the “friends” of her parents to suffer the fates they had seen in her eyes so long ago. Her senses were cleared, and she enjoyed the feel of life running out of them on her bare hands. Many hours, dead elves, and royal guards later, Mahvash was captured and held in the prison of the castle.
After two weeks of deliberations, the council and the king were decided, and the woman was brought once again to the chambers. This time when the king looked to her eyes, he saw only nothingness, her silver eyes showed no emotion, or fear.
“Mahvash Tasatir…A century ago, not that long in the eyes of our people, you were brought before me, an orphan in need of a home…. I see now that I should have done more then just give you to some one…. In light of this… and what you have done, I and the council have decided that death is not your sentence. You are banished Mahvash Tasatir… consider yourself not of these people ever again.”
The silver eyes looked to each of the council and the king, and each in turn saw his own death. Then the women nodded slightly and the guards to her away, depositing her outside of the kingdom boarders.
“The fools…” thought the exile… “They do not see… and so, someday I will return and their deaths will be mine… it will not be revenge, it will be enlightenment.”
So began the exile of Mahvash Tasatir. Soon she began seeking work, not for the gold, though she needed it to survive, but for the pain and death it allowed her to harvest. Lloth, Talona, Ceric, The Long Death… they all sought her, but she belonged to no one. She was an assassin, a mercenary, a scholar, she was a monk… of no order.