Yantiir, son of an elf and a yislaval. My mother, Yael, was less beast than her yislaval counterparts and managed to taunt my father, whose name she never told me, while he was traveling through the Yislaval Mountains. She came with child, but her brethren found the elf and killed him, feasting on his bones. I was fortunate that I was born looking more like yislaval than elves, otherwise my cousins would have killed me too. However, my elven blood tamed the typical yislaval bloodlust. I wanted to escape the mountain range and travel about Ryekarayn. Then Jikun passed through the mountains. With Jerah in tow, the other yislaval gave the group a wide berth. With my superior intelligence, I was able to get their attention and convince them to take me with them because I knew the quickest way through the mountains. Since then, we have been getting into all kinds of hijinks around Ryekarayn. Sometimes my anger bubbles over with Jikun (he is so stubborn!) and we get into fights. It usually devolves into Jerah restraining me and Navon or Darcarus restraining Jikun until cooler heads prevail. If I wanted to, I could rip his throat out before even Jerah could stop me (was that out loud?). My strength is only matched by Jerah, but my intellect is unmatched by any of these lesser elves. I don't flaunt it, though. I don't want them to throw me out. The fistfights are bad enough. I can't go back to the mountains and anywhere else I would be killed for what I look like.
Jikun's mission to overthrow this Saebellus character sounds like great fun. My yislaval community taught me how to kill elves and men alike so I should be a great help to Jikun and the others in the battles to come. Maybe then I'll be able to find a home in Eraydon City or even *gasp* Elvorium. What adventures could come to me then?

Note: I started writing this before I read Brian S. Gardner's post. GMTA.

I am Skywyn, winged daughter of a Noc'olari healer and a yislaval warrior. My mother, Ilryiana, found my father injured and unconscious while gathering herbs in a secluded glade several miles from the great tree of Galadorium. She healed his wounds, and her healing touch so soothed his beast that he wished to mate her rather than eat her. She counted herself lucky that she was still alive when he flew away. Her luck soon ran out and she found herself pregnant with me. She told her family that she was going to the Temple of Ilra to serve the goddess, and might be out of touch for years.
With the aid of Myrhha, a loyal family servant, Ilryiana hid until she gave birth to me inside a huge tree deep in the forest. I learned to fly by watching the owls swooping around our tree, terrifying my mother when I leapt from her arms to glide through the forest with them at age two. She stayed with me until I was ten, when loneliness drove her back to her family. I visited her often, slipping unseen into her bedroom high in the branches of Galadorium on wings the deep blue violet of the Noco'larian night. With Ilryiana's purple hair and eyes, my wings and birdlike bone structure were the only physical manifestations of my yislaval heritage. My mother taught me the ways of the Noco'lari and I struggled to reconcile them with my hunter's nature. For many years I lived in my tree, hunting like the owls, a nocturnal predator with a healer's heart, until the night Saebellus' army attacked my mother's home and took her prisoner. By the time I learned of this, the army had withdrawn. Frantic as I flew over the bodies of my mother's people, I found Myrhha lying in the hall outside Ilryiana's room in a pool of her own blood. She looked dead, but as I touched her with a trembling hand, she moaned and opened her eyes. "Sky..." she whispered. "What happened?" I demanded with growing rage,"Where is my mother?"
"Took her", Myrhha gasped softly, clutching her abdomen with a bloody hand. "You must go, Skywyn...to my kinsman. Help you...find...mother..." Her voice weakened with each word and her eyes slipped shut. Gripping her shoulders, I gently shook her. "Who took her? Who is your kinsman? Where is he?" I asked urgently. For a moment I thought she was gone,and the grief nearly overwhelmed me. Then her eyes slit open, and I had to lean close to hear her breathy words. "Army...Itirel..." Her speech trailed off. "Myrhha! Who did this to you?" My voice rang with the anguished anger that consumed me. Myrhha took a shuddering breath, and I nearly missed her last word. Her chest fell and rose no more. I released her body and slowly stood, my wing tips dripping crimson, clenching my bloody fists. I made myself two vows. First, I would find this Itirel, and get my mother back. And when I found the murdering bastard elf called Vale, his ass would be MINE.