Her village was her pride and joy. it was utterly unique, and the pride of every inhabitant. exclusively half-elves lived within the town walls, and unlike the standard troubles in life and often having split parents, everyone grew up surrounded with their own. the architecture is elvish, with human defenses. they happily welcome any guest, a great downfall. one day, like any other, a guest came passing by. a great mage. he was embraced with open arms. that night, as they gathered in the center of the village, the mage, of course, was invited to come. for about an hour they danced by the campfire and sang and such, when suddenly the mayor fell, dead. and then it was all a blur. the mage started a mass killing. she didn't know what else to do but play dead. she dropped by a woman who died, she didn't even look to see who couldn't. but she couldn't make her eyes close. she saw her loved ones die, the blood everywhere, and then the dinosaurs their great grandparents had tamed as protectors of the village chased him off. he only had 10 minutes, but he killed her entire village. after 20 minutes of fearing his return, the first survivor got up. slowly, they all followed. out of a village of 150 or more, 7 survived, including her. she looked at the woman she had fallen beside. her sister. she couldn't look at who else was dead, r see who else was alive, because that would mean the people she wanted to see weren't. she felt a hand on her shoulder as she closed her eyes tears streaming from their corners. her best friend. but after that day they all left, and never saw each other again. each and every other survivor was a reminder. their home was a reminder. she now has 2 missions in life. to find that black mage and to build a new village of half-elves. and a village of half-orcs, and tieflings, and genisi, and reformed drow, and everyone else society suppresses or struggle outside. she became a ranger, to learn to track and hunt. her prey, the human wizard. she doesn't really know what to do with herself besides that. she figured she can go on adventures to get the money to begin construction. she wasn't certain how to go about it. she hadn't seen another person since the massacre, she lived on the plains, not wanting to see faces, reminders of the faces she saw lose their color, lose the spark in their eye, lose the expression of terror and turn to something much, much worse. she didn't want to see reminders of the expression on the mage's face, his strange, rounded ears, his staff. she didn't want to see reminders of the survivors, who wore matching expressions of horror, grief, fear, and guilt. oh, that all-consuming guilt. and she didn't want to see buildings like those at home, or fires like that they had stood around when it happened. she had seen her mother fall into the fire, watched her corpse burn. watched her waxen face haloed in the flame of her already red hair. didn't want to see swords, tho she knew she would need them. didn't want to see swords like her fathers, as he drew it and tried to defend the village. tried to close her eyes as he and the dozen other would-be heroes fall. didn't want to see other people sleep, their peaceful faces contrasting to the contorted expression of pain on her sister's face as she saw it after the great killing. didn't want to see a cemetery, a reminder of the mass grave, instead of personal, meaningful graves. didn't want to see a mirror, her own living features and the guilt it brought back. but she had a dream. and maybe, through it, she could find healing.