Di'ren, Treyr

Treyr clinched his hand around the small metal spiked ball as he sat in the middle of his room in the inn meditating, spikes of pain infused him as he allowed his mind to find his center, unbidden remembrance came to him and he followed the path backwards towards the beginning of his rebirth…

His earliest memories, hunger, terror, pain. He remembered the face, she was beautiful even in death, the instinctive knowing that if he made a sound his life would end as he lay still in the small grass. Time Passes….

The small thrill of watching the pain of death take a small animal, followed by the pleasure of food to fill the ache inside, running naked and wild as a haunting, hunted thing in the forests… Time Passes

Another face, as beautiful as the first if hard and cruel. The calculating look of the elvish man as he looked him over, fear as those with the man cut off all escape. The first words he ever heard spoken "Take him" and then pain and darkness. Years pass….

"Focus" said the Master as the lash fell against his skin again, burning agony against his bare flesh, he knelt arms tied to wooden posts driven into the temple floor " In pain is found purity, the very nature of life is pain, learn to receive it before you learn to give it. This is the truth of a thing, Learn well as a prayer to our Mistress" Treyr prayed to the yet unnamed god that the Master spoke of as the lash struck again and again… Years pass by…

Newly come to manhood Treyr stood, lash in hand feeling the cool temple stones beneath his bare feet, the Master smiled a cruel cold smile at the well formed and muscled Acolyte "Make each stroke a prayer Treyr as she will" he gestured to the nude kneeling and bound half elf woman at the stakes in front of him. Treyr pulled back the lash a prayer in his mind as he struck leaving an angry red mark across the fair skin of the woman's back, again and again he drew back his arm letting it fall as the woman cried out… again time passed.

Sand beneath his feet, a simple monk's robe all the clothing he wore, around him in the stands stood the Masters of his order, silent, stoic, menacing, and another across the sands from him stood mute looking him over. Suddenly movement, kicks flying, fists attempting to connect, he dodged a blow aimed at his knee and responded bringing his fist deep into the pit of his opponent's stomach. Grappling an arm he overextended the elbow and was rewarded with a crack of bone, spinning he caught his opponent in the temple with his heel and sent the other acolyte to the floor, quickly kneeling he backhanded the young human twice, and the body went limp. "Loviatar in your honor I inflict this pain" Treyr whispered softly as he stood and bowed to those assembled above him.

He stood in the Master's office waiting for him to speak. His newly tatoo'd face marking him as no longer an acolyte. The master watched his one time student and Treyr though he saw a momentary break in his stoicism as he looked on Treyr, a mingling of affection and pride. "Treyr you have become one of my best, but no more can be taught you hear in the service of our Mistress, I am sending you out to learn our Mistress's will in the lands beyond our walls" Treyr received this news with the stoicism he had learned over the last century and simply waited patiently. The Master picked up a scroll "This marks you as a missionary of our Order to any of our Mistress's servants should you run across them" He passed the scroll to Treyr who without looking at it put it into the travel bag he had been ordered to bring "However to the land I am sending you few of our Order are known to exist. Your destination is the land of Sundren" Treyr again received this information with no change in expression. The man who had saved him from the wild and changed him into the man he was nodded once, pleased with his student. "Go now, and may Loviatar's Lash guide you" Treyr turned and left the only home he knew….

Hours had passed, he could see that by the tall candle in the brazier to his left having melted nearly to the end, his hand ached from the small spikes driven into his palm, yet he felt renewed and refreshed. He picked up his long black gloves and slid them on, placing his meditation ball back into his travel bag "Loviatar guide me" he whispered as he exited his room…

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