The road not taken
Griygon Half-blood is what he’s called. The God of the Half-elves, that is. His real surname has been lost to time long past, but Griygon the Bastard lives on. He was raised in both worlds, human and elven. His days he spent in the forest, learning the magic and wonder from his mother; his nights he spent with his father, learning the cruelty the world contained. Griygon would often return to his mother’s side with fresh bruises hidden in long cloaks, and if she ever knew, she made no mention of the abuse.
But Griygon grew. His body muscled in the way of a human; his mind grew quick with the wits of an elf. He was nothing to society and everything in his potential. Like you, dear boy…like you. And on his fifteenth name-day, the young half-elf went to see his father instead of his mother one morning. The tale goes that he woke his father with nothing on but a smile, standing over the sleeping man’s bedside. Griygon spoke, ‘Look on me, father. This is how you saw me on the day of my birth. This is how you shall see me on the day of your death.’ With that, the long-suffering son ended the life of the man who’d brought so much shame and agony to his young life.
The young half-elf dressed, walked out of the room, looked at his mother sadly, and was gone. Whether the boy’s mother knew of the father’s crimes, the tales never say. But it is known that the boy never saw his mother again.
The boy rose to be a man. Griygon served at the hands of kings, elven and human alike; his skill with a sword and with the arcane was unmatched. It is said that, in those bygone days, Griygon even founded a utopia, a half-elven hamlet that was meant to serve as a safe haven for all who feel as outsiders. The town was called Hi’hiwatha, or ‘Oasis’ in Common. For centuries now, half-elves and others who felt lost in the world had a safe place to call home. Griygon has been seen as the patron saint and deity of all half-elves ever since.