Connor is an elf in a royal line; he didnâ€™t much enjoy it however. Some people enjoy being rich; pampered. Not him. He preferred to be free, to live his life the way he deemed fitâ€¦not be told every blessed thing by other individuals. He liked to explore the woods, chase the animals, and spar with his closest friends--not sit complacently inside his padded room and admire his<span style="font-style: italic">god-sent</span>majesty. Enter Connorâ€™s father. Instead of the respectable, head-of-the-house-hold-great-person-to-admire type of guy, Connor had to put up with a war monger who insisted upon pointing out everyone elseâ€™s faults, spare his beautiful self of course. Instead of this, he detested his nobility. Given the choice, Connor would cast off his status like a forgotten cloak, and be done with the whole madness altogether. Most of his house is ashamed of him. There arenâ€™t many who are happy to call him â€˜lordâ€™. Neither was Connor for that matter. The fact that his â€˜subjectsâ€™ were forced to refer to him as such took away any of the respect they might given him in the first place.<br/><br/>Adding to the mess that was his family, Connor had to deal with the loss of his mother, the one person who seemed to care for him. Make no mistake; he didnâ€™t waste his time wallowing in the cruelness of Maia; however that didnâ€™t mean he wasnâ€™t about find some way to live out his life the way his mother would have wanted him. He was reasonably certain that his mother would not want him in his fatherâ€™s care. Connor had known his mother up until he was about the tender physical age of eight. She was the one person who treated him with respect, as an equal. She could hold out for him and be fun, yet at the same time she would instill discipline faster than Connor could commit the next crime. They often had long talks togetherâ€”many of them highly sophisticatedâ€”concerning his fatherâ€™s tyranny and the slowly corroding state of their lands. His love for the woods was birthed from his mother. She loved to take him deep into the forest, always near his side, and keep watch over him as they both played. She saw no reason why he shouldnâ€™t be allowed to explore a more adventurous path, or an unknown part of their woods that they had simply not gotten too. The woods came to make Connor feel safe.<br/><br/>Yet because of all this, the title of traitor was forced upon him as well. No one had ever dissented against the family and went off on his own before. It was simply unheard of in all its time. As a result of Connorâ€™s â€˜callous lack of careâ€™ granted to all that heâ€™s been given, he was considered a disgrace in the eyes of many. Naturally he wasnâ€™t about to<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>help that cause. There was one thing his fatherâ€™s guards had bestowed upon him in way of a title that he enjoyed: The Runaway. He actually never saw it coming. One seemingly calm day, Connor had again chosen to disappear from the sight of his father. When he was kindly escorted back, the guards now by the sixth or seventh time were grumbling complaints about â€œOur lordâ€™s son, the runaway.â€ Connor took to the name with glee only because it displeased his father so. Thus he continued to do it; runaway that is. Now heâ€™d been spent for nearly seventeen hours, with each granule of time falling as sand, pushing him, farther and farther from his fatherâ€™s graspâ€¦