You were once a part of a peaceful, cloistered community—be it a druidic circle, fey enclave, or arcane conclave—bound by strict principles of balance and nonviolence. But where others saw harmony, you saw complacency. When a threat came too close to the heart of your home, you acted with decisive force. The elders called it unnecessary. You called it survival. Cast out for protecting what they would rather lose than fight for, you now wander the wider world with the sting of exile and the pride of someone who stood their ground. Whether you’re searching for a new purpose, redemption, or simply a place that understands your strength, you remain—like your past—a beautiful wound that refuses to close.