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</div>Ry'kanos had been part of the Last Army. A veteran of the thirty two year War of Desolation against the encroaching Kaldean Empire, he had watched the forests where his clan had called home burn, the great Jakill trees catching fire along with the oak, yew, and birch. There, as a youth, his people had gathered beneath the boughs of the Jakill tree and whispered with the swaying of the wind until their voices joined with the Mother Goddess in supplication for the bounties of the forest and prayer.<br/><br/>He had been determined to die in battle against them. Instead, he had been pinned to the ground by spears and dragged in chains to the 'great' city of Kaldea where his pointed ears were docked in further humiliation, as if that could remove his elvish heritage. Whipped, beaten, and put to humiliations that had scarred his A'una to the point where he could no longer call on the Weave and draw magic to heal his battered flesh. Once they had grown tired of abusing him, they had tossed him into a cell and left him to wait for death.<br/><br/>Instead, Ry'kanos was dragged forth, spear slapped in his hands, and forced to fight for the amusement of the baying humans, slaughtering those he would have called kin before the War of Desolation. But they were no longer kin of his.<br/><br/>When the Kaldeans had come with sword and fire against the Clans of Is'alha, his people the Is'alha had called for aid to their elvish kin, the sylvans, and others. Many had answered the call and thus the war condemned them as well for the humans kept marching, no matter how many Ry'kanos and his kin slaughtered. There had been battles where the bodies had been stacked high. But the elves could not fight, eventually they were just too few and in the end they had been reduced to but one Last Army.<br/><br/>Three years Ry'kanos had fought in the pits of the arena. Three years he suffered under their yoke. But soon he saw his opportunity. After a particular gruesome fight in the arena, still armored and armed for battle, they had been slow to strip him of both and he had lashed out at those who had corralled him. When his slavers were dead around him he had escaped into the nearby woods that had bordered Kaldea, running swiftly to lose them. However, soon hounds were on his path and he grew desperate.<br/><br/>He had barely made it a league within it's shelter before he heard the baying and he cursed his luck. Rounding a tree, he was not expecting to slam in to someone who had been prowling. Falling to his rear, he cursed and grabbed spear but stopped as he realized that the person he had run in to was a woman, and not just a woman but kin. Speaking quickly, he pointed repeatedly in the direction he came,"P'erai n'os t'ulano ich'tul'oar sin-orou tan." (Please help me. The humans come to enslave me).