One of the main reasons I enjoyed working for caravans was it got me away from those damn Templars of Tyr. I was born into slavery, earned freedom, then they unjustly put me back into it. I can remember when I first met my friends. Most of them were slaves in a caravan heading from Urik to Tyr. Fortune have it, I was able to free them because the caravan was under attack and the ineffective caravan leader was unable to protect the caravan. So I gave my friends and a few others their freedom they helped save the day and the caravan leader sent us away. He was not the thankful sort. We made it back to Tyr on our own. Within the first hour or so back we came upon two cruel elves beating some half-elf. Stupidly, we decided to yell at them to stop and ended up in a street fight, and the next thing I know I am standing in the street alone as templars and their damn half-giant guards are running in the street looking to enslave everyone involved. So I put me shield up and bolt. I bashed through the croweded streets until I got far enough away from them. Much good it did. The Templars were out to get me that day. Somehow I found my new found friends and as we are talking about the narrow escape I get pushed from behind from some bastard guard of some noble house. To make matters worse I get thrown into some low life’s fruit cart and he starts shouting for money. By the time I am able to shut him up with coin another damn templar shows up and his thug half-giant guards haul me, V, and Olette away to the damn slave pens. At the time I can remember wondering why it takes years for me to get out of slavery and only a few hours to get right back in. That is what Tyr and the damn ziggaurat mean to me. The only thing worse then Slavery are Templars.