Elroy Swiftsteed was born in a well to do family. His father, as his father before him, was a famous horse breeder, which earned them their family name. He, however, had no interest in his family business. Elroy found far more interest in studying history, specially about the many great conflicts that have been recorded throughout the history of Arethil. This naturally got him interested in joining the military. Being born with a slight build, he considered his options, and chose to become trained as a mage. Striking out on his own, and after much convincing, he found himself a reluctant master. While he grasped the the arcane concepts with much ease, it took a lot of hard work and practice for him to finally wield it effectively. His master was a hard man too, and did not make it easy for him at any point of the way. But Elroy persevered. It took decades before he could confidently consider himself a proper mage, but his strong conviction and belief in his way earned him his masters respect somewhat begrudgingly. Knowing Elroy's final goal, his master taught him many advanced forms of magic that would help him shine once he entered the military.

And once the time came, shine he did. He rose through the ranks rather quickly, eventually becoming a captain. His skill is battle was feared and his knowledge of tactics was admired by his peers, and even superiors. His presence and confidence earned him the love and respect of anyone serving under him. He would've been promoted further, but his superiors were hesitant to place him in a position away from fieldwork. Elroy himself understood that and decided to deny any further promotions. In his mind he truly believed the battlefield was where he belonged, where he could help the most. However, not everything went the way he imagined

Years turned into decades, and eventually a couple of centuries, and the battles started to take their toll on Elroy. He watched countless men under him fall, many of whom he had known for years. Men who had shared their stories and dreams with him over a bowl of stew he cooked. Men who were no more. Elroy felt responsible for them. It came to a point where every loss he witnessed left a scar of failure in his mind. It forced him to work harder, almost self destructively. He still denied every offer of promotion, but now out of his sense of guilt rather than his wish to be helpful. The strain would've driven him mad eventually. But he stopped himself before that could happen, as the realization came washing over him. He retired from the military, coming back to Fal'Addas, hoping its serenity and peace would help him, calm his mind. All in vain. The noise of the battlefields never left him. Sometimes he would be lost in his memories reliving some battle from his past, regretting some mistake he may have made, all the while staring into the horizon bleakly. Every week or so he would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping, because of a dream. At times the simple sounds of clanking metals or crackling fire would make him visibly uneasy.

He had enough. Packing up, he left his home, and traveled across the continents, passing himself off as a mere adventurer. He took up dangerous jobs at small villages and border towns of different nations. Fighting off bandits, searching for rare herbs in deep and dangerous forests, acting as an escort for noblemen and women- anything to let him help people. To make him feel like that much less of a failure....