Laviter Elldawn

History

• Biography

  Laviter Elldawn doesn't know where he came from. His earliest memories were of a military run orphanage, where he began his training to be a soldier. The other children were all like him, strange hybrids of demonic humanity. Some displayed magical talents and were transferred for different training, but not him. His talents were purely physical. Strong, fast, resilient, even clever, he excelled, reveling in his instructor's praise and buying into their indoctrination that the strong should dominate the weak. Perhaps the trait that served him the best was his uncanny abilities of recovery. So long as he had plenty of food, he could quickly heal from wounds that might have been mortal to a human soldier. That recovery also made it very hard to exhaust him, allowing him to push harder and longer than other students. There were others faster or stronger, but no one could match his endurance.
  
  In time, Laviter was trained to be a member of the elite Banshee unit, so named because their activities were an omen of ill fortune. The Banshees infiltrated deep behind enemy lines to engage in sabotage, assassination, theft, and destruction of supply lines. As the war dragged on and on, the Banshees were called upon to help end the stalemate, to create advantages for the military to exploit.
  
  One evening, under the cover of darkness, the Banshees attacked a supply camp, rolling in like thunder, killing with wild abandon. It was only after the last person had fallen that Laviter realized this wasn't a military supply camp, but a group of camp followers and refugees. This camp had no military value. Women, children, wounded soldiers too broken to fight. They'd slaughtered so many innocents, and for what? He confronted his commander, who explained he full well knew what this camp was, and it's destruction would demoralize the enemy army. He'd planned this pointless slaughter.
  
  It wasn't a conscious decision. Laviter didn't intend to behead his commander. He was just as shocked as everyone else as the senior officer's head tumbled into the dirt. Perhaps, if he'd planned it, he'd have some followup to his plan. As it was, he just dropped his sword and ran. Arrows, many poisoned, hissed through the air, most missing, but not all. One caught him in the thigh, sending him tumbling to the dirt. Three more hit him as he staggered back to his feet. Two more caught him as he tried to cross the rope bridge and his body fell into the river, washed away in a cloud of blood.
  
  He later learned he'd been found by a fishing monk, pulled out of the water, and taken to the monastery. Despite his uniform, they treated his wounds, nursed him back to health, and didn't ask any questions. Knowing he was an enemy combatant, knowing he could bring destruction to them all, they accepted him. They showed him kindness where he deserved none. They were weak, yet they didn't treat him with fear or take advantage when he was even weaker than them.
  
  Laviter decided to stay, to learn from these strange monks. To find a different meaning for his life and to repay them for their kindness, when he deserved none.
  
  And yet, with a past as dark as his, how could he ever expect to live a life of peace?