The sexy half-elf Bard shall tell you a story.
5’7, rather skinny, shoulder length dark hair which is often braided in some interesting way (think LoTR elf hair). His eyes are unnaturally pale blue. He wears nice clothes even when traveling (I took that armor that looks like normal clothes that change into chain armor with a minor action, he likes to be underestimated) His cloak is darkblue with gold colored trim. Xandor almost always appears relaxed, even when in difficult situations.
One of many stories Xandor will tell about himself: The tale of my parent’s affair is a sad one, and I tell it with my heart heavy with grief and gratitude.
My mother was human, a fine example of a human, I am told. Sandra was her name. She was said to have the capabilities of charming any man with her beauty and lovely singing voice, yet remained virginal up until my conception. Sandra had worked most of her life in a tavern, serving ale and performing to a largely ungrateful and drunken audience.
She fell in love only once in her short life, with my father, Elrenere, an elven Cleric. Their love burned bright, and like the proverbial candle lit at both ends, ended quickly. Elrenere was called off on divine duties, never to return to my mother’s arms again, but not before impregnating her. I know very little of Elrenere’s work, only that his dedication to his temple outweighed any other obligation.
Sandra’s father owned the tavern, and worked hard all his life. Life was unfair to my grandfather, Henrahorn. Some would say he was simply dealt a bad set of cards, or that the stars were just not quite aligned properly when he was born. He angered quickly, but had a good heart, and loved his wife and children.
Henrahorn held a grudge against the elves, no one, not even his wife or brothers knew why, but they had their suspicions. When Henrahorn was young and foolish, he left home for several years and returned a new man, but not a better one. It was only until his return did his hatred of the elves rise up.
Sandra hid her pregnancy as long as she could, claiming that she was tired of drunken patrons fondling her and that gaining weight was a way to appear less attractive. Though, of course she could not hide it forever. When her father found out, she said nothing of the incident, for Elrenere was long gone but her heart still ached for him and was unable to speak his name.
When the day of my birth arrived, Henrahorn was present at the bedside. Under normal circumstances, Sandra’s mother would have been the one to take this role, but Henrahorn was the only parent Sandra ever knew, and he was used to filling both roles of mother and father for Sandra.
The delivery was a long one, but the midwife and Sandra persisted, and eventually I was brought into this world. Sandra held me for only a few moments until Henrahorn noticed the pointed ears on my head. He was outraged, “How dare you let an elf into your bed, you are no daughter of mine!” He shouted, and in his blind rage slit his daughters throat, and grabbed me intending to end my life as well. And as babies are ought to do, I cried. I cried for my mother, and I cried for my life, and I cried for Henrahorn.
My cry broke his fit, and Henrahorn saw what he had done. He dropped his dagger, which cut my hand on the way down, handed me to the frightened midwife and ran off.
Most in my position would be angered at Henrahorn, and demand revenge. But I do not. In that one moment, Henrahorn saw the truth, and the error in his ways. And I am sure regrets his actions, and his regret and self-hatred is far worse than any punishment that could be bestowed upon him.