The one moon visible at the time hung low on the horizon, and the stars above were in strange alignment. It was a day of Spirituality, when the youngest baby was born. His parents, natives of the tundra in the far north, named him Drahitt. In their tribal tongue this is the word for sacrifice.

The youngest of three brothers, he is stranger and more withdrawn than the other two. He was always the strongest, a born fighter. His saga begins in the tundra, after he wandered away from his broken family...

The arctic blasts ripped through his tattered furs and into his skin. No one could survive this for long, and he was no exception. He was about to submit, kneeling on the frozen ground, when an image appeared before him. Something was suddenly in his hand, and he found himself eating it.

A warmth washed over his body, and gave him enough strength to get up and continue on. As fate would have it, he came upon a musk ox, weak from starvation. He managed to bring it down with a sharp rock. He then slit it open and crawled inside, curled up, and fell deeply asleep. While inside, he opened his eyes and looked into the red innards. Within these guts he experienced a vision of a great battle between three armies that was fought in a red world. One of the armies was pinned against a fortified city wall. A fearsome army of insects slaughtered them mercilessly but they fought to the last.

When he awoke, the world seemed unfocused, a blurry image of its former beauty and a mirror image of his dream. He dragged the same sharp, bloody stone across his face three times to commemorate the glorious battle. One dark red line to symbolize each army, and their intersection on his high left cheekbone. From that time on, the only color he ever cared for was red. The rest of the world is only dull shades of gray.

The experience of starting fires, letting blood in combat, and ritual sacrifice of the fallen would alwats have deep spiritual significance for Drahitt. He is naturally drawn to Asral, god of war and to the great city that hosted the glorious battle in his vision.

After he staggered down from the tundra half-dead, he spent some time recovering in ArboRea and relearning how to use his limbs. He sometimes had trouble focusing and suspected that his mind had been altered by the vision and the frostbite. Patches of his memory were blanked out, and his childhood was all but lost. He soon met Asral priests, including Borin, Trith, Mazarmormuk, Axstream, and Flavius. Trith agreed to accept him into the clergy as an acolyte after he passed some tests. Drahitt was glad to have a powerful mentor and someone to learn from. At 16 years old, Drahitt definitely had some growing to do.

After about a year of constant training, his limbs had partially restrengthened and he had made many sacrifices to Asral. His journey to pay back the Red God was just getting started...