Teren by Don Taco

 TEREN

In a relatively distant and quiet patch of forest dwelt a largish band of what some arrogant

would-be-tolkienn has labelled Druas, but which we will just refer to as Drow, like everyone else

in the civilized world who doesn't think his idea of spelling semi-phonetically is much more

clever than everyone else, and just mucks things up for everyone. Dark elves. Actually dark.

Almost black of skin, and in some ways almost not elvish. And often provoking unpleasant

reactions from other folks, especially those religious types who somehow believe that everyone

needs to be just like them for the world to operate correctly.

This particular group or clan or village, as you would have it, kept to themselves for the most

part, and had little contact with, or even knowledge of, the kind of Dark Elves that ignorant

farmers use to scare their children into behaving, and even less contact with or knowledge of

the kind of Drow that help create and foster those rumors, tales, and scare stories by their

attitudes and behaviors. Such folk tend to be city folk, not extremely rural hunter-gatherers with

a smattering of farming, such as Teren's clan, which we are discussing.

Teren never fit in, for reasons that will become obvious. He was always the white sheep of the

family. Or the village, if you will, as he really never knew what little family he ever had.

Teren's father, a fine upstanding perfectly normal young man, tended to wander far afield. And

bring back stories of what he found. This caught the ear of the clan's witchy woman, who, with a

touch of arthritis that creeps in and defeats even the best of herbalists as they age, found him

an apt pupil for the foraging and gathering of herbals, mushrooms, spices, seasonal foliage, and

all the other tricks of her trade that were slowly becoming more dificult to gather for herself. This

turned into a comfy niche for him, as he also brought back meat, pelts, vegetables and grains,

and other foodstuffs, and things that weren't typically found nearby in their own forest. He even

carried trade goods of various sorts to other distant towns and villages, since he enjoyed the

traveling so much.

All was well and good until the day, or night, that he came back to the village with a woman. An

exotic woman, by their standards, though they never got a chance to know her well. She kept to

herself, stayed indoors, spent time only with him. She was pale, and beautiful, and odd. And

quite pregnant. He was obviously entranced with her. Enchanted. Bewitched. Rumors flew. But

behind their backs.

Months passed. The child was born. Also odd. He had grey skin and white hair. Steely

unforgiving eyes. The village women fretted over him, for he seemed unnaturally small, and

didn't weigh even half of what seemed healthy to them, though in most respects he behaved like

any infant, wetting, and crying, and wanting to be nursed. The parents never did choose a

name. The women took to calling him Teren, their word for slim. More months passed.

When the child was weaned, and could almost stand on his own, the father and the woman

took to the woods one day, much like any other wandering gathering day for him. They were

never seen again.

Although the entire clan raised him, Teren was mostly adopted by the witchy woman, who felt a

certain obligation to his father, but who also recognized in Teren some of the qualities that had

made his father so valuable to her. She taught him the herbs of the forest, and how to find them.

She also taught him the names of things, something she knew but that his father had never

shown any skill at or interest in. Years passed.

Teren grew to medium height, was quick and adept, and tough as nails, but remained rail-thin.

His hair stayed shock white and his skin a tepid gray. He never fit in.

As the years passed, perhaps he inherited the wanderlust from his father, or perhaps he just

grew weary of not having any kin, and really, of not having any friends, and Teren wandered

away from the village, to slowly discover that there was a much vaster world out there than he

had ever even imagined. And that he didn't seem to fit in there either.

Among his discoveries was that, while many people seemed put off by his presence, religious

people tended to be outright hostile. All except that one church in an oddly remote city, where he

was welcomed with a fervor he had never experienced. For the first time in his young life, he

thought he had found a home. Until they brought out the snakes. Things got too weird for him

very quickly, and he had to make his excuses and head for the hills again.

Also among the things he learned, when he was lurking in the shadows of the largest city he

had ever been in, was that his witchy woman mentor had given him more of a valuable

education that he had ever guessed, but it was a bit short of the formal training that was

available from an actual participant of a magical college. He spent some years in study and

formally became a Namer, also learning both rudimentary and advanced cantrips and rituals,

and many elements of magic that he hadn't even guessed at. His tutor from that college had

been a military man for decades, though, and insisted that the price of his advice was for Teren

to also study Military Science. The teacher swore that knowing how to plan would be of more

value to him than any amount of unreliable magic.

As time went on, and he practiced Detect Aura on himself, his natural curiosity led him to

discover that his mother had been a vampire, and he was a strange, unusual, and very

uncommon half-breed.

He also, through some chance encounters, learned that he had psionic potential, and spent

the time to learn some abilities, but hasn't had time to truly develop them.

And he still didn't fit in.