Born in the snowy and pine covered mountain village of Dunenmer Hollow, Nariah was the daughter of Harken Stormblade, a former adventurer and the village's most esteemed blacksmith. She was a peculiar young lass. Her father would astound and amaze her greatly with tales of his many travels and endeavors, how he fought fearsome beasts and traversed vast and magical realms in his early days. So enthralled was the girl by the yearning for adventure, she would spend her many hours in the surrounding forests, swinging about a stick to the trees as if they were also terrifying monsters being slain by her sharp and powerful blade. Harken was amused by it, but he also saw that very spark in his daughter's eye that he once held, though he was fearful to let his only flesh and blood venture from the village. Nevertheless, he taught Nariah over the years all that he knew of being an adventurer, how to fight and defend herself should the need arise, and when it was best to retreat from battle. Nariah soon became a competent swordswoman under her father's guidance, and not to mention a proficient blacksmith herself, but still the man was afraid to let his daughter go. No matter how much Nariah persisted incessantly on her father letting her leave the village, Harken always gave her the same lecture, Ye are my only kin, and I am not going to let ye run off into danger, Nariah. Ye still have much to learn before I ever let ye venture from Dunenmer alone. The world is a far more sinister place, daughter. Having just a sword alone will not protect you.” It was difficult for Nariah to grasp what her father meant, blame it on her whimsical mind, yet she understood one thing….her father still saw her as a young girl. But dammit, she could fight. She knew the way of the sword and the shield, but her father was just too damn stubborn to let her go. Sooner or later, the old man would have to. How else would Nariah learn to grow? Soon came the day a dreadful earthquake, with such rancorous horror, rattled violently the grounds about the quaint hollow and destroyed many homes. Blessed Tha'agorn no lives were lost in the chaos, but it was certain this was no ordinary tremor, neither was it the hammer of the mighty god of the forge crashing down upon the land. This was spawned of a great and immeasurable evil indeed so. The villagers, they feared for their lives and for those of their kin. Someone must venture out to the source of this madness and deal with it, they said, but Harken, in his gray age could not. It was just as Harken had feared, the burden had fallen...upon Nariah, as did the letter proclaim. Before he sent his daughter off with all of his love and his blessings, he forged for Nariah a sword and shield, worthy of even the finest warrior of the land, and he also crafted a suit of armor for her, and last but not least, a beautiful pendant which the village elder blessed with a protection spell. Finally, he said his goodbyes to his daughter. "Ye be safe now, and be sure to come back and see ye old man, ye hear me daughter?" Heartily he chuckled hugging tight his child, now a full grown woman and the most competent warrior of their village. She had a long journey ahead of her, and the challenges she faced were sure to be harrowing, but nevertheless, Nariah would face them head-on, for the sake of her village and....for the sake of her father. "Aye. I will father." She replied happily embracing the stout, old man. "I'll be sure to send word of me travels as well. Goodbye father." "Goodbye, me daughter....and Tha'agorn keep you safe."

Eyes= Left ice blue right light green Height= 5'0 Weight= 90 lbs Other= She has a scar from the top of her eyebrow to the middle of her cheekbone on her left eye, making it that color. She usually hides her face under a hood

Once the proud house of Tranton stood amongst the noble houses of Hieledran until it was betrayed by another rival house. The Tranton's castle was razed to the ground, all their land seized, and those of Tranton blood and all who served them were slain. All save for one boy, The youngest son of the Tranton Lord surviving because of the sacrifice of some of the families loyal retainers and a decoy body leaving the enemy house to believe the Tranton bloodline had been successfully destroyed. Alone the boy wandered cold and afraid through the forest searching for somewhere safe. But he was a child and noble-born he knew nothing of survival or how to fight. He almost met his end many times in that forest until he was found by a hardened huntress who lived alone in their depths. She initially paid the boy no mind, yet with nowhere else to go the boy followed her. After realizing he wasn't going away and perhaps softened to his pleas by her years of isolation, The Huntress took pity on him and took him under her wing and revealed to him that she was once a Ranger. She made it clear she would give him nothing but the knowledge of her craft. Everything else he would work for and find himself. And so began the boy's thirteen year tutelage under the former ranger. During learning everything of the craft and of the forest as he could. He lived in the wild and he learned how to survive in it, and the ranger's sometimes cruel lessons hardened and steeled him into a survivor. At the end of his training, due to his constant time in isolation in the wild and his constant struggle to survive. The boy had forgotten his own name, during his trainer had only called him 'boy' during his training, saying he would be worthy of a name when he had proved himself as a man. The scared noble boy was now a young man, and now one without a name to be called. The Ranger impressed with how far her student had come, gifted him a name upon his graduation. So the enemies of the Tranton got their wish and the last surviving heir of the Tranton had died, Conan Nightwolfe now born in his place.