The Birth of Orlan

Hello all I am the Lorekeeper, Teller of tales and spinner of stories. Come and journey with me through the mist of time and see what I see…

This is the tale of Orlan Anlessa, third born son of a minor noble from a region known as The Mark. The night air was crisp and cool on this the 26th evening of the Griffin. All is silent in the Anlessa manor house save for the moaning of the mistress. The local wisdom quietly whispers to a tall man. "The child is breech and she has lost much blood, the child can be saved but only if he is removed, The mother can not be saved. I am sorry M'Lord…"

After a momment that seems like hours Lord Anlessa speaks softly to his wife. "My love , My life things have taken a turn for the worst and the wisdom can't help you." Soft tears begin to fall from the lords eyes as he speaks again. "It is your choice my love, the Wisdom says she can save our child. But she needs to cut into you to free him from his breech position." With a heavy sigh the lord whipes the tears from his eyes and looks out to the darkening sky. As he does so one moon shows brightly as another fades to nothingness.

The lady speaks barley a hushed tone. "My Love, the time has come for you to raise our children on your own. Do me but one last favor and name him after my father for me." With a heavy heart the lord can do nothing but shake his head. The wisdom asks all to leave the room as she does what must be done…

Time goes by and young Orlan is a mere tot just learing to run about his father's home. Stumbling and running he heads to the lord's private chambers and sees something his infantile mind can not comprehend. A circle of silver and candle's a young woman is sleeping in the center The Lord faces the open flame chanting a strange song. Orlan runs to hold his father as a child is want to do, crossing the circle of silver and disrupting the fine dust it is made of. A laugh of malcontent is heard and a dark voice rises in joy. Lord Anlessa turns to see his child grasping his leg before all goes dark and as the candles seem to light on thier own the woman is gone…

More time has passed and now Orlan is learning the art of swordplay from his father and brothers Whilhelm the Oldest has bested his father in a dual and with witty retort states, "Father you need to be in more practice or one day you will lose this kingdom you love." Meanwhile Orlan is practicing how to thrust and slash on a wooden target with his brother Fredrick. "That is good Orlan keep practicing and you may be able to defeat Whilhelm someday. Remember to stay focused" as Fredrick thrust his foot in front of Orlan and he stumbles to the ground. "And always remember to keep your eyes on your surrondings."…

Orlan has just reached the age of naming and a grand ceremony is to be held, Invitations to all nobles have gone out and all shall attend save for the Lord of the Mark. He is sending his Vizer to offer his blessing to the young man. As the guest arrive and Orlan's Father begins the ceremony they first offer a silent prayer to his late wife and her brother Robert. Afterwards a grand fist is held and Orlan has chosen a new name for him self Andros. Andros chose this name and annoniced it, his father visable shutters…

It is time for the summer festival and Andros and his father sit in the garden one morning. Lord Anlessa begins to speak." My son even though I am noble and your blood is too, My lands belong to your brother Whilhelm, My Army to your brother Fredrick to you I have nothing I can leave when my time has come. It will be this year I fear my strength has been slipping more and more. I shall tithe to you your mother's lands even though they are worth naught. The fields were salted and the manor burned, all that stands is a temple to Andrade. I have talked with the priest there and they will glady accept a member of your mother's line. And if you prove your skill at arms I will give you the blade your mother's father gave to me on our wedding night." With a solomn nod Andros replies "I understand and thank you father…"…

More time has passed and Orlan/Andros has learned the way of the sword. In celebration his father gifts to him a ceramonial blade of silver and ruby with a crossguard of the Phoenix and the mark of Andrade on the hilt. The Vizer has come to visit like he is oft to do when Rebis is full to speak with Lord Anlessa. Andros enters his fathers appartments to alert him that dinner is served. Again he sees a sight that strikes a memmory, A circle of silver but this time his father is unconcissious, blood running from his mouth. The VIzer Is chanting louder almost a shout as Andros approaches and draws his blade. Careful not to cross the circle of silver less the sound lose him the advantage. ::Just as Fredrick said,"Mind your surrondings." :: With a single thrust Andros runs thru the Vizer, but no blood pours from the wound. The Vizer turns and smiles. "Andros good to see you, too bad it will not be for long." Pain racks Andros tearing the feeling from his body. :: Stay Focused ::

A bright radiance begins to come from his blade bursting into flame, with a wide blow Andros cuts into the Vizer. The Vizer bleeds astonded by what has happened and turns and flees as Andros falls into the curtins, and upon the bed setting it a blaze. Hours seem to pass or is it more as he awakens he is pained, his body is burned and blackened. As he slips into unconciousness he hears in a voice that is not his, "The lady has cleansed you and you are now pure…"

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