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Journal Entry 1, 1322 AGW, 1 Day after my 700th birthday.

As is a tradition in my clan, Clan Greenlocke, I am starting this journal the day after my 700th birthday. In these journals, we tell the stories of our lives, leaving a written history for our people. The Elders swear that as writers, we get as much out of this as our progeny, but I am uncertain.

Where do I even begin? I suppose with a name. My Name is Tybalt, Tybalt Greenlocke. Everyone in this clan shares the name Greenlocke. It is what differentiates us from the rest of the Forest Elves.

I was born to our clan’s Chief Hunter, Erroll Greenlocke. He was a stern elf but loved us. He raised my younger sister and me to be strong and defend ourselves and each other. Mother was the opposite. She was one of our Clan’s healers. Many called her a Druid, but she disliked that term. She felt the Druids were too exclusive and cared more about balance than help. Mother babied us, and many, including Father, felt this was too extreme and would not help us make the clan strong. Still, they let her because of who she was. I never really understood it until years later. My sister, Evyi, was 20 years younger than I. That seems like a lot to many in this world, but to the elves, it was common. Evyi was born different than the rest of us. When she was born, a bright light shone around her. No one would talk to me because I was so young, but I heard whispers of her being an Avocaar. Years later, I discovered that meant she had the blood of the Angels in her. It is said that an Avocaar can be born to anyone with any amount of Angel blood in them; it could skip generations before it appears. We had no idea that we had Avocaar blood in our heritage. It was a major surprise, given how detailed the records our people keep.

My life changed the day she was born. I became a second thought in our family. They tried not to show it, but I could tell. I didn’t hate my sister because I loved her, but resentment towards my parents slowly manifested inside me. The resentment I didn’t even realize was there for another 30 or so years.

Life was simple then, even though I was still trying to find my place. I trained to be a hunter like my father but never quite had the knack for it. I didn’t have the gift of healing like my mother, though my sister was spectacular at it. I did become decent at alchemy, however, a small blessing from my mother. It was exactly 30 years after the birth of my sister that my real story begins. The story of a lost elf who overcame so much to gain so little, at least that is how I see it. The Elders feel my story is far greater than I seem to think it is. We shall see about that.

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