Haleb sighs softly at the elf's question;  "Ah, my friend, that is a tale long in the telling, indeed.  But, perhaps I can give you an idea...  Picture, if you will, a country of endless, blowing sand.  The sand creeps into everything; clothing, food, beds, hair, eyes.  The sun beats upon your head like a smith's hammer, and nearly as hot.  The animals of the land are ill-tempered, or venomous, or both, and the people are little better."<br/><br/>"For the culture of Ctarin is nothing but an endless series of schemes and jealousies, every man plotting how to advance himself at his neighbor's expense.  The rich live in opulence, while the poor work their fingers to the bone, and still must beg or steal to feed their children.  Only the darkest of gods are worshipped there, and all live in fear of their priests.  The only thing in which all Ctar stands united is in their utter loathing of the rest of the world, especially those not of human descent."<br/><br/>He shakes his head in lament at the ignorant predjudice of his countrymen, before going on.  "I knew from childhood that the place was a den of serpents; were it not for my talent for the magics of fire, I doubt I would have lived long enough to leave it.  Even so, I was scorned as a weakling, and lived most of my life in fear in that place; please, do not think me mad, but it took a divine vision to show me that the rest of the world was not like it.  The very day I learned that my powers spring not from arcane might, but the blessings of the goddess Brigit, a kind and loving deity of the outside world, I made up my mind to leave Ctarin.  And that, as they say, is that.  I have traveled almost due North in those few months, and my feet have brought me here."