Life in Triboar was good, and Ash remembers much of his childhood as a happy one. His father was often on the road, so he was closest to his mother. Not that his father was cold or distant in any way, he always returned to with smiles and gifts from far off cities. But Ash spent most of his time with his mother, so it was only natural perhaps that, of the two of them, he took after her a little more.

It was from his mother that Ash picked up his musical abilities. She was an excellent singer, and would sometimes perform duets with a local bard in the taverns and inns of Triboar for a little extra coin. It was on these outings that Ash first handled an instrument, and learned the scales and chord that made up the songs he loved to listen to. He thinks his magic may have also come down through his mother's side, though he's not certain about that. Certainly she was no great mage, but Ash remembers her touch as being... well... healing.

But wouldn't any child robbed of his mother at an early age think that way?

The illness struck when Ash was only nine. His father had been on the road at the time, perhaps things might have turned out differently had he been there, perhaps not. She had faded quickly, and by the time her loving husband had returned, she was cold in her grave. A golden locket round young Ash's neck all that was left to remember her by. Something died in his father that day too.

With no else to look after him, Ash's father took him on the road with him. Lucky that he did, because that year, in 1485, war erupted in the Silver Marches. They waited out the war further south with the caravan they had been travelling with. When they returned to their home, they found a burnt out ruin. Triboar had been sacked by an army of Orcs, and suddenly their remaining friends and neighbours seemed cold and hostile to the notably Orcish widower and child living in their midst.

They tried to carry on as best they could for a few years, but the caravan work his father relied upon began to dry up in the wake of the war. The caravaneers and merchants seemed more reluctant to employ someone of orcish heritage to guard them on their journeys north. Eventually it became intolerable, so his father did what he thought was best, and took his son to somewhere he thought they would be able to live in greater freedom, without being looked down upon.

The Kingdom of Many Arrows.

That... was a bad time in Ash's life. He was not prepared for what life was like amongst true orcs. He did not fit in, not in the slightest. He was a gentle, music loving boy, who disliked violence and didn't have a cruel bone in his body. His father tried to help in his own way, lessons to help his son 'toughen up' and gain respect amongst his peers. While it may have taught Ash a few combat skills (and given him a few scars), it mostly just soured their already strained relationship.

They had falling out. Ash left, his father stayed.

Alone for the first time in his life, Ash had to survive making his way out of the Spine of the World, and eventually made his way to the city of Mirabar. It was there he became reacquainted with someone from his past, his mother's friend the minstrel that she had sung with so often in Triboar. She remember the young boy that she had taught scales to many years ago and took Ash under her wing, teaching him about music, magic, and the life of a travelling bard.

For a while they travelling together, hoping down the coast from Luskan, to Neverwinter, and Waterdeep. It was there that Ash remember that his mother had been from Waterdeep, and first thought that perhaps he could find his grandparents or other relatives in the city. He tried to track them down, but he discovered that his grandparents had already passed. But there was a trail that they had left behind. Apparently his grandfather's family had originally come from the Silver Marches, the small town of Deadsnows to be specific. While Ash might not have family in Waterdeep, it was possible he still had relatives there...

The possibility of familial warmth proved too strong of a lure to the young Half-Orc. He parted ways with his mentor and set out for Deadsnows. On the road north he stopped at Triboar... but it didn't feel like home any more to him.

After Triboar he struck out east to Yartar and Silverymoon. What a city that had been, he felt like he learned more about music from one week in Silverymoon, than three years in Dark Arrow Keep. Sundabar had given him a particularly hostile reception, it wasn't surprising, the city had suffered worst of all in the war. Nonetheless he had not stayed there long.

And after Sundabar... there was only Deadsnows... and hope.