Draven was born into an interesting family, his father Remman, was a merchant by trade. He traveled the lands within the bounds of a caravan. He enjoyed the traveling, the selling and bartering of items. He had a head for figures, picked up from his father and his father before him. There was also the sight seeing while traveling with the caravan. It was on one such trip to the an Ice tribe town where Remman met the woman that would give birth to his son.
Dahlia; one of her town's slow rising artisans. Kept mostly to herself and didn't venture too far from home. But Market was the one day she would venture out to see what the caravan would bring in. It would be one of these days that she met Remman. (Most this will come out in solo RP when Draven asks his father about his mother)
Over the seasons and trips through the town, Remman bumped into Dahlia more then once before he was watching the caravan leave without him. Smitten he was with the woman and wanting to settle down. While his love was still for the traveling caravan, he felt it was time to try do something else with his life. Perhaps even start a family. If was five years before Dahlia made it known to Remman that she was with child. Joy flooded Remman, here he was feeling down about the choices he had made. But this joy was soon to be replaced with sadness and guilt.
The day of Draven's birth had started out a joyous occasion. Dahlia's mother arrived to help through the child birthing, and support her daughter. While Remman waiting outside the room, not to his approval, but the sternness of his mother-in-law was enough to make even the rowdiest of kids cower in fear. So he paced outside, listening to the cries within. Soon Dahlia's voice was accompanied by the wail of a child's. His child had arrived, his heart filled with relief and joy. But the worst was yet to come, the door flew open and Dahlia's mother stood scowling at him, he didn't much like the woman when she was like this.
"You best come in." wall all he was told before striding into the room. Wrapped in a blanket beside Dahlia was his son. Walking over he didn't know it, but his wife was slipping away.
"Beautiful, isn't he?" Dahlia asked as she held the sobbing infant close, her eyes closing.
"Of course he is," Remman said reaching out to touch his wife. Only thing is, she didn't respond to him.
It wasn't until an hour later after he was taken out of the room that he was told Dahlia passed on. It was said that she died from hemorrhaging after his son was born and was gone before anybody noticed. So it was from joy to sadness to a heated battle over it was his fault Dahlia died giving birth to his son.
The grandmother laid most, if not all, the blame on Remman for the death of her daughter. Even with Remman trying to defend himself against the old croon, there was little he could do. I lost the one he loved, had loved since the first time they bumped into each other that one market day. Soon it all came down to what was best for the infant, the grandmother was willing to take him and raise him in her house, but inherit nothing from her side of the family. Remman wasn't about to allow his only son to be raised by someone who would hate him everyday. No, the merchant was going to sneak his son out of the town the next market day, less then a week away.
That time passed quickly as the caravan once more came to sell and barter their goods to the locals and take on other goods to trade elsewhere. Remman, being an old friend to the caravan master was accepted back into the fold as if this had only been a vacation. He needed something to take his mind off Dahlia. Two nights later the caravan left the town with Remman and his son along with it.
Looking back now, Draven didn't know how he survived caravan life. His father had been pretty much all thumbs when it came to raising the boy. Often times getting help from the women that rode with the caravan. There weren't many other kids to play with and while in towns, Draven had to stay out of sight and play with the toys his father got him. But those blue eyes were always peeking out of his hiding place to stare in wonder at the world.
When Market day was done and the area was just the merchants and their own children, Draven was let loose to help close up shop and pack certain items for his father and other merchants needed help with. These were the times he enjoyed the most, being free from the stuffy back part of his father's stall.
"why must I stay hidden during the day?" Draven asked one evening when his father was cooking supper. "Why can't I play with the other kids?"
It wasn't cause he was born with some aspects of his mother, it was more he didn't want to be found by Draven's grandmother. By now, at the age of eight, Remman was sure the old croon had given up looking for them or had passed on. He hoped for the latter of the two, he didn't know how much longer he could keep the boy from everything he should be exposed to in this life.
"I just want you to be safe, that is all." Remman said as he ladled out soup from the cooking pot and handed one to Draven. "The streets can be dangerous."
That is what he always said and he was always met with a scowl from Draven. Remman sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he was growing older, reaching his mid fifties. He needed someone to take up his mantel and with only one son... He hoping the boy would have a head for figures like himself.
"I'm not a baby anymore dad. Its because I am different, isn't it?" Draven continued watching his father.
"Alright, alright.' Remman said in defeat, years of lying weighing upon him and he had no other reasons for the boy to stay hiding. "Alright, tomorrow you don't have to stay hidden."
There was joy in Draven's face as the boy finished off the soup. Then came the teachings of reading, writing and math. These lessons made Draven groan inwardly, but he endured the hours of learning. He hated these times, while it was good for him, he just wanted to play like he had seen other kids do.
Next morning the doors opened to Draven and he was let loose on the world, only... Stepping out those doors weren't as easy as it first looked. Hidden away so long, Draven was suddenly unsure if he actually wanted to go outside. Peering out past his lodging door, the flaps of the pale tent he shared with his father, Draven watched as people milled about in the early morning. Other vendors started setting out their wares, the early risers headed off for their own jobs. Even the occasional guard or arms-man would wander through the market square.
The world was an open door, he just had to step out into and start living.
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