Veers

I suppose the story of Veers, Veers being I, begins with my Fey  parents, in what starts out as your typical Changeling tale but with some exciting little "me" twists.  My realm, which is often called "The Witchfire Woods" by those delightfully peculiar Elves, has a number of joyful conventions, none so exciting as "The Choosing of the Changeling." Once a year, or whenever we feel like a year has passed, the neighbourhood will gather together to choose a yearling spirit with which we will play the most delightful prank on the humans on The Outside. After choosing a nice homely human pack with a freshly laid spawn, we leave the yearling with the mortals and bring their squirmy, fleshy spawn back to the Witchfire Woods, where we play games and pull pranks with them until they get old and wrinkly and can't wrestle trees the way they used to. Sometimes they leave, and we're sad and cry dewdrops, but then a cloud of crystal butterflies or something flies past, and we try and swat them out of the air. 
On this particular occasion, I was the chosen yearling. My fey-friends believed themselves to be very discerning, and when they left me in the humans' cottage, they did so confident they had made a good choice. But my preconceptions concerning their discerning nature were soon destroyed. 
At first, it seemed like a pretty sweet deal; all I had to do was wail and flail my tiny fleshy fists, and the mortal woman would shove her big food cushion in my face. But then, to my outrage, they started ignoring my wails and flails. And what's worse, they actually wailed at me for wailing! The mortal man, when he had had a few cups of human juice, would even shake me and squeeze me. This was my first experience of mortal pain.
I didn't care for it.
Fortunately, my time with them was mercifully short lived. After a few wailing filled weeks they left me in the forest, and I suspect they had no intention of coming back. Just as I was wondering how long I would have to lie there, those sharp-eyed folk from the Wild Hunt happened upon the scene, and returned me to the Witchfire Woods where I was reunited with both my neighbours and my mortal counterpart, who had been having a much more enjoyable experience that I had. 
After a while, I think maybe three years but I could never keep track, I decided that Asteria would be a good name for my mortal. The time between then and now is a bit of a blur. There was lots of playing, and exploring, and making things that amused us. Or maybe we were made into other things, I'm not sure. Anyway, a certain amount of days past, and it came to the time of my Venturing. My mortal didn't quite feel up to leaving the Witchfire Woods, but I'm hoping that in taking the plunge on my own, Asteria will eventually follow my example and turn up in the Material Plane. 
On arrival, I threw myself into the first of my many mortal habits, that being the keeping of time. Mortal beliefs in possession have always bewildered me, particularly the concept that time is something you can shove in your pockets and hold on to for later, but, not wanting to judge, I have endeavoured to master the custom. I think I am doing well so far; for example, I can tell you it has been one month, eight days and fourteen hours since I arrived here, which in case you were wondering is fifty five thousand, five hundred and sixty mortal minutes. 
I thought I was fitting in quite well. Although reaction to my Shifting has been mixed, as many people derived a feeling of joy from it as aversion. However, I suspect it was the fallout from one such occasion, involving a misunderstanding, a scorned friend, an individual who does not like man-bits as much as woman-bits and some marvellous leather boots, which has led to me being stowed uncomfortably in the hold of this prison ship.

Basic Information:
Age - 24
Born - The Twilight Lands
Race - Changeling
Class - Ranger