Kerrik was slightly taken aback by her new companion's inquiry on her heritage, as she didn't often dwell on such things. "Hm," she mused, "I suppose that I could be considered part Adelan, my parents and their clan are descendant from the tribes that once lived in the thick and lively forests south of Serendipity. But my ancestors, the tribe leaders of old, migrated south before the now great kingdom could even be considered a kingdom." Kerrick smiled to herself as she began a story.
"My great-great-great-great grandfather," she said, counting each "great" on her fingers, "Forrus Sovan, a great leader and expert marksman, was the last member of the Sovanars to live in the forests of what is now Adela. He was a kind but fair man, but he was very proud." Kerrick was now lost in the telling of her tale, paying close attention to the mood of her audience. "Forrus lead the Sovanars in a difficult time, the strangers from the north were invading, taking over the neighboring clans one by one, either by force or by persuasion of magic and gifts. But Forrus, he was determined to keep the clan's homeland as their own, unwilling to give in to the strangers.
"That is, until the northerners approached the Sovanars. When they first came to Forrus, they had a single gift: A bastard sword with a copper and gold handle and a blue sapphire, as blue as the sky itself, and the size of a human's eye, inlayed in the hilt. The sword was also magical: it's wielder could will it to crackle with electric energy, powered by the huge sapphire. Forrus's second in command and his most trusted friend, his wife Nixium, told him to reject the gift, but Forrus didn't listen. Thinking only of how mighty he would look fighting his enemies with such a sword, he accepted the northerner's gift, and asked them to come back again in a year's time.
"Forrus fought many great battles in that year, but those tales are for another time. His sword, which he named Stormbiter, served him well. But the northerners came back, and this time, they brought another gift." Kerrik's tone turned sour, spitting out the word 'gift' like it was bitter poison. "They brought a warmage, who was told to kill the man with the magic sword if he didn't come quietly to where the northerners came from. And Forrus was too proud for that. He drew Stormbiter and charged the warmage, the blade crackling with power and the air smelling of ozone.
"But the mage simply held up his hand, stopping the sword mid-swing. He balled his fist, and Forrus fell to the ground, writhing in agony. The clan scattered in fear, and Forrus was either killed or taken to the north. The clan would have been lost, if Nixium hadn't tracked down each member and brought them back together, leading them away from the land where her husband had last been seen. The Sovanars have been traveling nomads ever since," Kerrik finished, a sad smile on her lips. "The past is meant to be remembered, but not to be held on to too tightly. Each telling is a different truth, a new life to the heros of times now gone."