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Tarlmond was born on a warm summer night into the elven society. There, every man hade light blonde hair, and women had light brown. Everyone had blue eyes. There was no law that enforced this, it was just the way nature had formed them.

His loving mother and father were there, along with powerful clerics to make sure that everyone was alright. And it was. Until he started to grow hair. For it was not a light blonde, but an unmistakable black. Every once in a while a female was blonde, or a male was brown, but never had anyone seen an elf with black hair. But, the elves, being the personable people that they were, didn't care, and for the most part ignored the fact.

He was raised in his home, taught in the ways of speaking, reading, writing, and mathematics for thirty years, as the elven tradition was. And so it went, Tarlmond kept his hair short. Short enough that you could always almost swear that you could see his scalp, but never could. As he grew, he became the regular height of an average elf, as well as the average weight. Everything seemed normal, and Tarlmond loved life.

But three decades passed fast, and soon it was time for him to leave his home, to go of to school to learn the arts of physical combat, and the art of spell casting. This time, school would not seem so short, for he wouldn't be out of it until a full century passed. And soon, Tarlmond would realize that not all elves were so kind, and that his hair color wasn't the only thing different about him.

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