Legends of Belariath
Cale
Cale was born to a pair of underachieving moriels, each more concerned for their own safety than anything else. His upbringing wasn't exactly the most pleasant of experiences, being witness to various acts of greed and self-centeredness, each one turning his stomach in different ways. His youth was a most boring affair, no friends to speak of, only those who clung to him trying to leech from his sporadic generosity, and trying to find favour with his parents, not for wealth or power, but for the sheer enjoyment of seeing them squirm as some indignity or other was placed upon them, and watching them do everything they could to survive, as such he grew to despise his people, the ones he grew up with, even to the point of growing to loath and detest his own parents.
From the age of 15 until he came of age he was trained as a knight... to have honour and respect, although that honour and respect was misplaced and wasn't leant towards the moriel gods, was in fact towards his own ends.. Having no-one to bend him to the straight and narrow as it were.. No noble or person of power wanting him, not wanting to become tainted with his name in their herd, and so he was bounced from trainer to trainer as he sought one who could help him develop his skill.. Never finding any that would take him for more than a month before realising who he was and letting him go from their service.
Then one day, just as he came of age he was presented with a duty, to proceed from his homelands, and to track down one who had, supposedly, inflicted great evil and harm upon his people. His mind churned, a duty was a great thing to have but to leave his home, he wasn't sure if he could do that. But within the week he was being escorted by two other knights towards the surface, presented with well made sword and shield and sent out to track down and eradicate the perceived evil that he had been sent towards.
Five years passed and he came across many in his travels, each one different from the first, but all displaying one thing in common, a deep seated hatred for his kind, not that he could blame them, but each time he protested and tried to explain, he was attacked, beaten and abused and due to this torment, his heart grew cold and stony, his outlook descended from pure honour into something more decrepit and horrific, his actions turning more towards the evil and barbaric nature that he had sought to leave behind as he had tried to make himself into something better.
He spent a few years travelling around the lands, moving further away from his homeland, although still always in pursuit of that great evil, although some might say his own actions could be considered the same if not worse, rape, pillage and enforced slavery before letting them go for the pursuit of coinage into his pocket, his eyes always drinking in detail, their cries, their begging and pleading for forgiveness before he handed the leash to another, perhaps worse than him, maybe better, but he always rode off not caring about the ones he had left behind, mind always on the future and his road to power and glory.
Five years since he left the homeland, having come accustomed a little better to the light outside, although still keeping shrouded by a cloak at most times, having learnt a little skill in metal crafting on his travels, he entered the area surrounding the Lonely Inn, having heard tales of debauchery and slavery a rife there, he smiled as he came to a halt, dismounting from his steed and climbing the steps into the inn itself to perhaps find his power and glory at last....