A Hatching.

A single egg, smoldering in what remains of a burnt out hut. Overnight, an entire family wiped out by orc bandits, every soul burned alive, all that is, except for one. The egg shakes as a dark, leathery wing splits the now crusty burnt shell, follow by another as a baby Avian breaks free into an unforgiving world. He is born in agony, writhing in pain from being almost boiled while still in his egg. By utter chance and dumb luck, a banished Goblin necromancer, searching for an easy meal, stumbles upon the egg and licks his lips. However on touching the newborn, his soul is burned deeply by a raw power and desperation. Having felt this blink of energy, he recognizes it as a sign, a sign that this winged infant is predisposed for dark magic. Seventeen years passed before the day Telin would cast his first spell in necromancy, even though his dark tutor put him through rigorous studies every day. He created his very first reaper's scythe, and without hesitation, rend the life straight out of his goblin master, who had held him back from knowledge apart from the ways of the dead, pulling his soul into the weapon forever. His master, who had taught him the ways of undead magic, but restrained from all other sources of knowledge was dead. Telin was free to search for his true calling, knowledge, he had a thirst for it that could not be quenched, and he knew that it would never end.

Denadlyr

The mystics had set me the task of devoting myself to a religion, the one I chose was that of Denaldyr, who just so happens to be the one the mystics themselves worship. The neutral nature of Denadlyr appealed to me, even though I am a Necromancer, I do not have the evil tendancies of a run of the mill mage of the undead. I set off in search of the altar of Denadlyr after hearing whispers of its existence within the tower of sorcery. A sense of adventure filled me, and the hair on the back of my neck pricked up as I left the western gates of Seringale and into the forest. I knew I had to brave the shadow grove before even finding the tower, but before going there, I noticed a great cave on the way, this cave had a long green tail sticking out of it and the opportunity of seeing a dragon in the flesh was one I was going t I walked into the cave and without hesitation the great green dragon whipped around and launched an assualt on my minions. We exchanged blows for what seemed like days but in the end, a few subtle magics weakened the great beast and it fell to my reaping blade in a massive green heap. With my pulse now racing, I stepped into the misty shadow grove and into the doors of the tower of sorcery. After what had to have been one hundred flights of stairs, I came to a dark door taht seemed to call to me. I entered and was attacked by a mage of my own kind, a necromancer of incredible evil who could sense that I did not walk the same dark path that he did. However his evil magic could not bring me down, and I took from his withered corpse a knife that seemed to feel right at home in my grip. I then made my way up once more until I found the great mistress of neutrality and bowed before her for a moment before making my way around to the altar I had searched for. As I knelt in front of it, I was filled with the same sense of adventure as I had been when I left town, but also my thirst for knowledge grew ever greater than before.