The waves crashed against the dawn-lit shores of the island with ever-greater ferocity, but the midwife, an aquatic elf elderwoman named Turguna of Mulmuri-Shui, known far and wide for her special skills in this field, held the steady course, directing Elyssa, her most loyal apprentice, to fetch more clothes and herbs. Upon Elyssa’s return, the midwife recited her final incantation. She reached into her mossy netting and produced a fifth conch shell. She crushed it under her mortar and spread the powder across the abdomen and forehead of Nariadne. "And within this shell," she concluded, "he will know the Wisdom of the Ages." She glanced down at the pregnant woman and, with a small grin, losed her eyes and submerged herself in a deep trance beside the bed.

"No! Turguna! Stay with me! It is time!" cried Nariadne. Elyssa, desperate to help, scrambled to the splintered bedposts and crouched to the floor in front of Nariadne’s legs. But in one moment, her ears suddenly began to tingle and her eyes lost their focus. In from one window shone the sun, rising over the distant mountain crags; in from the other the moon, setting into the ocean. Down from above, through her mistress’ atrium, a summer storm let loose its water. Up from below, the island ached under the abuses of another quake. From behind, the chamber doors flung open to reveal the shaded figure of a man. And before her, Nariadne loosed forth one final visceral scream before she passed out. Then, right there, Elyssa pulled a crying newborn out of the woman.

The afterbirth passed soon after. Elyssa proceeded to cleanse the baby, in silence, save the cries of the newborn. The man at the door stood in silence as well, but somehow he felt unable to enter the room, almost rooted to the spot, as though he had not been given permission to enter the room or to disturb the proceedings. He saw his wife, Nariadne, unconscious on the remains of their bed, flanked by Turguna to one side and by Elyssa at the base, cradling in her arms an infant boy, his son. He watched her wash the baby in lukewarm water, dry him and wrap him in fresh cloth. Then, in a deliberate manner, she walked over to the center of the open-air atrium, crushing broken stained-glass shards from the atrium window beneath her sandals. Then, she held the baby upwards in outstretched arms.

There he saw wispy spirits enter the room and fly around and float about the baby, passing through him and in him. The spirits, at first indistinguishable from one other, slowly coalesced into four distinct forms. One looked like a burning ember, a miniature sun. The second looked like a sparkling, granite-encrusted, rough-hewn diamond. The third, a little whirlwind, the neck of a small tornado. The fourth, a blue-green sea eddy, crashing in upon itself.

The mouth of Elyssa was moving, but no sound issued forth. Her eyes had glazed over. The four forms glistened and rotated in orbit for another long moment, then converged upon the baby, spiraling inwards in a maelstrom of light and color. In a single flash, they were gone.

Turguna appeared behind Elyssa and collected the baby in her arms. She whispered words into Elyssa’s ear, who promptly blinked her eyes, held her now-throbbing forehead and conversed privately with the midwife. They then revived the mother and conversed again, all inaudible to the man.

"You may enter." He heard a voice, the bellowing, aged voice of Turguna, echo through the chamber. He proceeded into the room and approached his wife, who had just begun to press the infant to her breast to suckle. He reached out to caress his newborn son when Turguna held him, "Cuthorior, no! Not yet! They are together and must remain undisturbed until sunset. Understand, good sir Cuthorior, that this is not my wish; it is the way of things, as was taught to me by my mother and to her mother before her. Please, you must respect these customs. In fact, I must insist on it. Let us leave them alone now, and I will tell you of what you have witnessed."

Turguna dismissed Elyssa, folded her fine net shawl about her, then took Cuthorior by the elbow and steered him away from the mother and child and into an adjoining room that led through to the seashore.

"Sir," Turguna said, "your firstborn son has the Sigil of the Order. It was foreseen by my sisters three tides whence, during their pilgrimage to Lemuria. They told of the birth of a boy, on this island, at this time and place, who would grow up and join the Order of Elemental Power. If you notice, in the small of the baby’s back, there is a little birthmark, a mark in the shape of a sigil. This is the Sigil of the Four Cousins of Pallifax. Perhaps you recognized the forms that floated around your child? They were messengers sent from the elemental planes to bear witness to the birth. They were sent to bear witness to the birth, and…" Her voice faded off and she instinctively retreated a step.

"And what, elderwoman?" started Cuthorior.

"And…to join with his spirit." She drew closer and, conspiratorially, whispered, "he has been chosen by the rulers of the elements themselves. In their eyes, he is special. He will grow to become a strong and powerful priest, and he will lead a new congregation of elves on the path of harmony with the elements as the most promising Elementalist in years to ascend to the post--you should be proud! Please understand, good sir Cuthorior, that this was foretold and portended...the ways of the gods cannot be understood by mortal elves…you must accept their precepts and pass your child into their charge…please, tend to yourself now…take time to absorb all of this…you have returned from much travel, have you not?"

Trying to distract him further, Turguna noticed a scroll on his belt, sealed with the wax imprint of a well-known Seljuk poet. "Ah, I see you have visited Shot’ha Rust’aveli. You hold a personalized transcription of his epic poem, Knight in a Tiger Skin. And how is Queen Tamara these days?"

Cuthorior stood stricken. His narrow eyes furrowed into a single point on his brow. "Lady Turguna, your backpedaling stance and amateur attempt at distraction have correctly anticipated my reaction. I am aware of your machinations in this matter, and I assure you, I will speak with your sisters in due time. For now, you will not escape this island before you tell me what you have done to my son, or you will taste the metal of my wrath!" He opened his cloak to reveal a decorated longsword to the woman.

Her countenance changed. A greasy grin wormed across her lips. "You wish to threaten me, do you? You wish to threaten me and my enclave, do you?" Her scaly-blue, wizened face tightened around the words, and her silver-white hair and steadfast, net-enshrouded frame cut an imposing silhouette against the sunrise. "Remember the days of the Red Tide? Remember the Alliance of the Crystal Conch? Remember when my enclave rescued yours from the brink of annihilation at the hands of the human barbarian raiders? We then proceeded to make for you this island paradise! And here you would threaten me? Such insolence, from so young an elf-whelp!"

"Lady Turguna, in typical Mulmuri-Shuite fashion, you overstate the importance of your enclave’s contribution to the battle! And you conveniently omit the efforts of all our other brethren! You have invaded my home and have manipulated the fate of my son for your own ends! So do not speak to me of insolence!

His rage started to shake him as he bore his teeth to her. "By Kilrathi’s silver mane! He was but one minute old! Spill your secrets, woman, now, so that I may undo the damage you have done, or I will spill them myself!"

"You will be silent, husband!" From the doorway, Nariadne, weakened and pale, baby attached to nipple, put an end to the mounting dissension. "I invited her here, to attend to the birth. I too have had dreams of my son as a priest in the Order of Elemental Power, and I have foreseen many of the events in his life already, or have you forgotten who I am?"

"My dear wife, Nariadne! How long I have been away from you! How I long to…"

"Approach, Cuthorior, we may embrace. We will not stand on ritual here." Cuthorior rushed to his wife’s side and kissed both woman and baby. He saw the birthmark in the small of the baby’s back, and wiped off what appeared to be the last drops of octopus ink. He recognized the stain to be permanent, sinking into the skin. He peered towards Turguna and her stained fingers, who returned his glare with a thin-lipped grin.

Turguna, for her part, shook her head in disappointment, disappointment at the ways of the youth these days. No respect for the elders! Why, in her day, the father was not allowed to even see the child until the mother’s breasts were bone-dry, which meant weeks of separation! Then there were the epic-long trips to visit the relatives, wherever they were in the world. How much time was wasted sitting on the back of a horse or in the dank galley of a ship, traveling between relatives, its a wonder we elves ever went through with the bother of it all, babymaking and such. And these two, not a word of thanks for all my efforts! Perhaps it is time, she thought, to crack open my book of revenge spells…

<<That will not be necessary, Turguna.>> Turguna stopped herself in the upswing of her next thought as she heard these words from Nariadne echo through her head.

"Please accept my and my husband’s gratitude from the bottom of our hearts. You will find your boat holding a chestful of riches for your efforts, and your sons registered in the Book of Eligibility for the Enclave of Fanyarda. Soon, they will find wives of their own."

Book of Eligibility? thinks Cuthorior. How pathetic do her sons have to be to require registration of their bachelorhood in a book? Can they not pursue their own mate? And where is all the panache, the flourish, the fun of the hunt? How antiquated! How jejune! How aquatic!

<<Cuthy, the traditions of her enclave dictate the registration. Turguna requested the registration as part of her payment. I have acceded to her wishes, and so will you.>> Nariadne terminated her communications with a piercing glare to both Cuthorior and Turguna. They were humbled by Nariadne’s power and receded their hostilities. They had overlooked her status in the College of Interior Horizons, a school of mages specializing in the power of Pure Thought.

Cuthorior attempted to mend the scene. "You mention the Red Tide, Lady Turguna…do you also remember the details of the Massacre of Ver Devian College or of the Vanishing Crusade, the just revenge our brethren exacted upon the heathen mages of Montresso later that year?"

"Yes, like the ebb and flow of all tides, our revenge on the slaughter of innocent elves at the hands of the mages was as necessary as it was inevitable. On that glorious day, the cycle was indeed circled. We have benefited greatly from our membership in the Council of Kilrathi, have we not?"

"Ebb and flow indeed! The accursed mages paid dearly for their arrogance that day! And your role was not insignificant in that excursion, Lady Turguna, if I may say so myself!"

"How gracious of you to notice, good sir Cuthorior!"

"Truly a remarkable display of your commensurate talents, Lady Turguna!"

"Your kindness and generosity warms the cockles of my heart, good sir…"

"That does it!" ripped Nariadne. "Now you know why I spend so much time in the College! How else can I steer clear of all this podknockery-rubbish ego-stroking that we elves are infamous for! It’s enough to drive one to drink!"

Turguna shields her eyes at this remark, bites her lip, then bids her farewells and departs to her boat, heavier for the return trip.

Born in the year 258 AI, the young infant was given the name Caldor, of the Enclave of Fanyarda, on the Island of Murano, named after a great elven merchant of fine goods and purveyor of trinkets for the home, the barn, the cave, and the temple, all at reasonable prices! Young Caldor was doted upon by mother and father, until he was given two more brothers, Negrian and Corditne, and two more sisters, Aranthe and Raedora, to play with in the following years.

Caldor grew up to be a rapscallion of the first order. Instinctively knowing that knowledge must be sought in the world and wisdom must be tested for its mettle, he would give way to his wanderlust and be gone for days at a time, often traveling to the human city of Venizia to wander about the town, start bar room brawls (but never finish them), sabotage the anchor lines of merchant vessels, and most destructively, initiate romantic liaisons with several elf females.

To wit, his first love was Mille-Tronka, a young wild sylvan elf from the Appian mountain range near Rome. He admired her skill with hand-to-hand fighting, her militant outlook on life, and her propensity for wearing naught but the softest of leather trappings about her body. She bore him his first child in 333 AI, a young half wild sylvan/half high elf boy named Vone, and after the birthing ceremony (which was significantly less melodramatic than his own), he saw neither Mille-Tronka nor Vone again.

Another love of note was Filfaedria, a refined gray elf from a well-bred enclave just outside of Vienna. He discovered the higher arts, music and culture through her, and after bearing him his second son in 381 AI, Bilbonian, he began to appreciate her handwriting in a letter she sent to him, telling of her immediate departure with his son. He never saw either of them again.

But his most remarkable affair was after returning from an expedition in 415 AI into Asia Minor and Arabia with his father, Cuthorior, a Selkarian of the Blue, Brown, and, most recently, Purple Paths. They had returned from travels with a remarkable human, Omar Khayyam. A Persian poet, astronomer, and calendarist at the Seljuk court under Queen Tamara, they would bear witness to the routing of Armenia and Mesopotamia under the Seljuk empire. They would then document the liberation of the land of Mesopotamia, but Tamara would keep Armenia in her throng for the time being. They returned through Constantinople, disguised as mendicants, meandering through the city, walking with the sick and needy, steering clear of the authorities until they had crossed the city limits and could return to Murano by boat across the Adriatic.

He had seen many things during his thirty-year visit to the Anatolian peninsula, but by 445 AI, he was tired of the constant travel and required time to rest, to reconnect with familiar surroundings. He visited Venizia and found for himself a new haunt. He decided to enter the Cursed Ruins of Ver Devian College, erstwhile an abandoned chapel, now a decrepit rat dwelling. Curiosity led him inside, and luck led him to investigate the far wall, where he found a secret panel, leading him down a set of stairs to a series of passages that criss-crossed underneath the city. He crept through the passages and stealthily approached a figure before him in the darkness. Unfortunately, he was heard, and the figure spun around and tackled him before he could react. When he regained his senses, he saw that the figure was a tainted elf woman. A tainted! He considered fleeing, but instinctively knew that he could not pass up this opportunity to learn what he could from an experience with her! He opened a dialog with the woman, who went by the name Vela, and, to his credit, wisely overlooked the traditional elven treatment of the tainted as pariahs and developed a deep and enriching friendship with her and her enclave. In time, as they became more intimate, it was she who made the first advance towards him. They made love and bore a girl elf and named her Yvidia.

Caldor stayed with Vela and Yvidia for many years after the birth, sharing stories of his travels all around the known world with his new family. He was even offered membership into her enclave, but he wisely chose to forgo the tattooing, body-piercing, and welt-marking initiation rituals. (On a side note, he could not understand the marking Vela had found in the small of his lower back, and neither could Vela—she was relatively sure that he had not endured the initiation rituals of another tainted or wild elf enclave, but she was never absolutely certain. After all, she knew full well of Caldor’s propensity to stretch the truth to the point of incredulity.)

He spent one hundred beautiful, adventure-filled years with Vela and Yvidia, traveling south into the Enclave of Mulmuri-Shui and its Living Reef of Sigramu-Kulan-Mui; traveling north through the Germanic lands of the Holy Empire, learning what he could about the myths and legends of the Elf-Dwarf War and visiting relatives of Vela in Bohemia; traveling west into the kingdom of Galia; traveling south into the Iberian peninsula, visiting many elven enclaves (that he could locate from his father’s maps) and exposing his daughter to as many experiences as were available to him. As he preferred to travel light, and cared little for bulky possessions, the experience of his travels was his greatest gift to them. Then, when the time was right, he bid his farewells and returned to Murano. He would later rendez-vous with Vela and Yvidia separately and reminisce fondly.

It was in the spring of 545 AI, during this return trip from Iberia that he felt the first turns and twists of his destiny. Paying for transport to Murano, he offered his services as boatswain to the captain of a cargo ship. The captain accepted his form of payment, but quickly grew upset, then angry, then furious at the lack of skill demonstrated by Caldor.

But soon, Caldor felt ill and hunkered himself below for the duration, fighting sleep through many wild fever-dreams. During one of these dreams, he was visited by a figure dressed in white gowns. This figure opened up a conversation with him, commanding him to begin his studies in the Order of Elemental Power immediately upon his return. Caldor scoffed at such a request, believing that his life was his to lead as he pleased.

The figure then touched his forehead, and his eyesight vanished. Suddenly, he saw with perfect clarity through the eyes of his father on the day of his birth. He saw Elyssa raise his little body to the heavens; he saw the four spirits swell and circle around his body, then coalesce into their forms. But this time, each form coalesced on the head of a long staff, which swirled and directed the motions of the forms. He could see through the veil of the Prime Material Plane, into the four elemental planes occupied by four tremendous figures, each holding one staff in mid-air, each staff tipped by a form. He could not identify the four creatures, only stare in awe for what seemed an eternity.

"Do you see, Caldor? Do you recognize your birthright? Do you know who you really are?"

Caldor could not speak, but he understood. He tried to respond to the voice, "Do you not comprehend it, Caldor? I am Pallifax, and they are my Cousins. And you, Caldor, are my disciple."

From this point forward, Caldor knew his calling. Unfortunately, he did not know one whit about swaining a boat, and after ripping the master sail for the third time in as many days, the infuriated captain was about to toss him and his belongings overboard, when a swarm of flaming arrows crossed the deck and ignited into the sails and mast. Pirates quickly approached and boarded the ship, and a swashbuckling skirmish ensued. Many lives were lost, including the captain’s, but Caldor knew he was in no condition to wage battle this day. He held tight in the galley until the commotion died down, then peered abovedecks. He was quickly snatched up and tossed into the group of prisoners in the middle of the deck. The leader of the pirates introduced him self as Antrazi Assam, First Magnate of the Carthage Syndicate, then introduced his young assistant, Magnis Parva the Fierce, as their new warden.

An opportunity to dive overboard and take his chances on the open seas soon presented itself. He had noticed that many of the pirates, although their heart was in it, were failing in their health. They wore black and blue marks and bruises that spotted their pale bodies, and their fighting skill was markedly diminished. (Caldor would later recount that this raiding ship was one of the early transporters of the Black Plague, a ferociously deadly scourge that was to ravage Terra Viejo within the span of only five years. By the beginning of the next year, 550 AI, the human population of the known world had been decimated. Although he never made the connection between the onset of the Black Plague and his fever dreams onboard this ship. Coincidence? You be the judge.)

Just as the group was to be rounded up and bound, he leaped over the edge and into the Mediterranean. Into the Mediterranean he went. Down, down, down. Down, into the withered arms of an aquatic elf female, now ancient in her years.

"Drink this," she gave him a potion that allowed him to breathe and swim under the waves. "Do you remember who I am?"

"I recognize you from the many parties my parents held during the summer festivals, but I do not know your name. And yet, I have seen you somewhere before…"

"Think hard, Caldor. I know your name!"

"Yes! I remember! You were beside my mother as I was born! Your name is…"

"Turguna, of the Enclave of Mulmuri-Shui and its Living Reef of Sigramu-Kulan-Mui. It was I who served as midwife at your birth, and it was I who baptized you into the Order with my octopus ink sigil on your back. And it will be I who will share with you the secrets of my Order before I die. The fact that you recognize me at your birth tells me that you have had visitors in your fever-dreams, have you not?"

During the ensuing days, Caldor and Turguna swam and swam back to her enclave, stopping off at two smaller aquatic elf enclaves along the way. They talked and shared many stories about their lives and experiences, about her enclave and its peoples, and about his destiny.

As they swam across the underwater mountain ranges and into the seabed valley of her enclave, he saw rising before him a gigantic coral reef, shimmering in the water and planted in the ocean floor like a submerged behemoth. Turguna slowly approached the side of the reef, whose staggeringly huge size made the elves appear as gnats tickling the back of a giant. She gently whispered words into the reef, and a small crevice opened. As they swam through hole, Caldor was caught on the reef’s edge, and in an instant his arm was severely lacerated. The hold resealed itself behind them, and Turguna took Caldor to the local healer to tend to his wound. He introduced himself to the enclave elders and began his studies in the Order of Elemental Power, in the enclave of Mulmuri-Shui.

Within the Living Reef of Sigramu-Kulan-Mui, he was at the mercy of Turguna’s benevolence. She gave him a week’s ration of her potion and had told him to eat heartily. By the end of the week, after eating their food, he grew gills and fins and was able to breathe water, swim, communicate in a limited form with the sea creatures around him, and survive the pressures without suffering any ill effects.

He spent untold years in the enclave, learning all that he could from Turguna and her two sisters. He encountered each of the Four Cousins of Pallifax in separate dreams, and he recounted them to the three sisters, who interpreted their meanings. He then was initiated into the Order of Elemental Power by the sisters as a Disciple of the Zephyr Bucolic. He practiced for 170 years, to the point of apprenticeship, then when the time was right, he bid his farewells and returned to Murano a new elf, reborn from the sea with a purpose.

He greeted his mother fondly, and she gently looked into his eyes. At once, she knew that her son had grown into an elf possessed of intellectual achievement, generosity of spirit, and a wisdom and perspective beyond his times, and he returned her acknowledgment. She told him of an unfortunate incident in the family. His father had recently been imprisoned during an excursion into the lower Danube valley. Other Selkarians were on the lookout, but none had found him. He departed once again in search of his father, taking only a few possessions, but encumbered with worlds of knowledge in his head.

During his travels over land, he practiced his new magicks, but without much luck. He was more skilled floating under the water in the enclave of Mulmuri-Shui, so perhaps he had not adapted to dry land and the rigors of weightedness on the body and spirit. Days passed without food, and he was presented with the choice either to starve or to start recycling his wastes, a horrid last resort. Just then, while blackening a handful of crispy critters in his makeshift fire, a band of warriors seized upon him. He courageously and successfully defended himself with only his wits and his guile, and he soon held them under his thumb. He ordered them to take him into their fold and protect him from harm, which they did gladly.

And so begins Caldor’s entry into the famed ranks of the Fire Wolves.