Aedran, the human
Who is it that determines who should live and who should die? Many would answer the question with Drazhad, but is it truly the god of Death who chooses who dies? I would scoff at such an answer, for I have long been aware that the gods care little who lives and dies. Indeed I myself have been a judge of souls for many a year, and never have I seen a god judge who lives. The true judge of who lives and dies are the wealthy, and it is they who employ me to carry out their own ideas of justice and mercy. I am the trained killer, I do not care what it is my victims have done, that is no concern of mine, for I am the Assassin.
I was born thirty years ago under the name of Aedran Longharrow. My parents were not well off, indeed I can remember many a winter where our belts had to be tightened because of a poor yield in the fields. My parents tried their best to impart the values of a good farmer into me, but it did not help, for I was a hunter at heart. I helped my family the best I could without giving up my hunting, at first bringing back what I had killed, however meager the kill might be. Soon however, my skills as a hunter began to carry. When I was a young man, it was the summer of my fourteenth year I believe, I was approached by a local lord, he was not a great lord, merely a rich one. He told me a tale of a large wolf that was terrorizing the sheep in his pastures on another side of the manor. For a small fee he asked if I would hunt down this menace for him. Being a poor young man I agreed quickly, dangerous though a wolf is, its teeth and fangs pale in comparison to the gnawing jaws of hunger and starvation in the winter.
The next week I traveled across the manor, until I reached the woods where the wolf was said to live. With me I had only a few days rations, my bow and a long knife. For several days I delved through the thick forests that surrounded the manor, always following the faint tracks that told of the passage of the wolf. After a week I had long ran short on food, and was forced to revert to berries and small game, which, thankfully, were is good supply that summer. Finally after a week and a half of tracking I came upon the den of the wolf.
I saw the she-wolf sitting within her burrow, and with her were 5 small pups, beautiful pups they were. I looked upon them and knew that the death of their mother would be their death as well. For a long time I sat watching the scene, pondering the conundrum that had presented itself to me, until I finally decided on my course of action. Slowly I rose and snuck around the she-wolf. With my bow raised I let loose a single arrow, and ended the life of the wolf. Slowly I entered the clearing where the den was. The small pups still suckled at the teats of the now dead wolf. Slowly I bent down and picked a single pup up, and placed it within my pack. The head of the she-wolf I took with me to the lord, and presented the head to him and received my payment. The wolf-pup, however, I kept, and raised as a pet, who accompanied me for many years, and whose descendants still follow me today.