10-04-2016, 03:32 PM
I am a newcomer to your fair town, and so I see it only fit that should I wish to become involved in the politics of the township I disclose all there is to know of myself and my history. The below is a chronicling of the history of my home land as well as my own account of my personal history.
Five generations ago the riverside land where now stands the city of Reimira (REM-era) was discovered by Morgan (more-gain) Asalor the First. A woman of Northern birth whose blood burned with a need for adventure. When her clan declared war upon another for a reason forgotten to the channels of time, she found herself in love with a handsome carpenter, who when all others fled during the destined raid of his village at the hands of her clan, stood poised to defend his home armed with little more than simple hammer. The two fought and by the battle's end the older man had lost an eye and lay bleeding upon the floor, hands clutching his hammer in determination as he too was once a warrior. Lady Morgan could not bring herself to kill the man, rather she boasted of his foolish choice of weapon and her admiration of his determination to fight against all odds. To what the older man laughed in unison with his attacker. The two continued to speak and found themselves well matched in humor and wit and soon she found herself growing fond of the man.
When the raid had ended she took the man as a prisoner and purchased his slavery before they could so much as board their boats, under the promise to him that once she had bought his life they would leave to a kingdom neutral of their clans affairs and start anew. Neither had family left breathing nor children to care for. That is how they came to live in the kingdom of Jevin (yay-ven). Years passed and the two spawned three sons, sustaining themselves by the toil of city work. Lady Morgan burned with desire for something greater, being a woman she was expected not to fight as a warrior in the army, nor would they offer her command or position of the city counsel or guard. Rather she was restrained to be a tailor, a weaver, or a teacher.
Seeking a better future for her sons and to satiate her own desires she set off from the mundanity of her home leaving them to be raised by her husband in her absence. This is when she discovered the fertile land yet unclaimed that would in time become Reimira. She returned speaking to her husband of the ripe land and together they left to craft a cabin in the remote woodland by the river. As the years past they would often bring back pelts and excess of salt to be traded for coin with which they would purchase tools and tools alone, for the land provided them with all the resources they desired.
As they traded more and more often for coin a friend of Moran, seeing their prosperity, wished to join them. He tired of his position within the kingdom. He wished to be a farmer, to own land and horses. Grow crops and see the manifestation of his work. Happily she had her friend return with her and with him his own sons, daughters and wife. The farmer and his children erected a farm as his wife took to weaving nets, for such was her craft. His farm grew well and with every harvest he would alternate the crops, expand the farm and grow the ever increasing export of the town. Soon travel to and from the old kingdom became tedious and attracted much attention and so the husband of Morgan set to building a boat to hull their growing export and sell in the masses, but not before traveling to the north to seek soldiers for he had heard whisper and rumor of the jealousy of their once-King and feared that he may be pushed to attempt a coup of their new home should he arrive unprotected with such a mass of cargo as to fill a ship.
The King of their last home indeed took notice of their prosperity and indeed desired the little farm for himself as it was on the border of his land. Just as expected, the King was at last pushed to action when the husband of Morgan sold their stock. Sending a handful of knights to claim the farm, he was surprised to find that none returned for the husband of Morgan succeeded in his mission returning home with a small but powerful and veteran militia of the Northern born who made short work of the knights. Furious with their defiance he offered a bounty on the farm to his lords and they too sent soldiers of their own, however they were sent divided for the Lords did not wish to share the bounty and their greed cost the lives of those they sent to claim the farm for the Northern warriors out matched the simple soldiers in experience and in numbers totalling forty in all, the king’s bounty hardly worth the cost of ten. In addition to this none knew the means by which the farm had defended itself for they let no mercenary return alive. Soon scouts made attempt to learn their means and their numbers but the skirmishes drew closer to an end for the Lord’s grew discouraged and wearie of the attempt for such a small bounty that would remain prosperous to the King who dared not propose an edict to seize the farm for to do such would mar’ his name as one who was filled with greed and not wisdom.
With the veterans of the north came sons and daughters who in the years to come would have their own children and so the little farm would expand into a walled village. For years the city grew expanding it’s borders as claim was laid to nearby mountains for ore and quarries for salt. The simple walls replaced time and again. Houses continued to pop up, shops and goods traded and sold between denizens at fair price and without tax for all who claimed the walls as home would hold the title of warrior should they ever be attacked again.
Word of the taxless town where no person was a lesser for placement of birth spread and grew the walls ever more. Soon a tax was implemented if only to stop the influx of people. The township was divided into a number of guilds to govern over each domain assuring all were given fair opportunity and means of continuing. The guild leaders would speak to the Lady Morgan who was now respected with the presence of a ruling Lord. As they could no longer trade to the kingdom with whom they had fought Lady Morgan sook a trade alliance with another distant kingdom to whom they would send ships to deliver goods.
As their trade continued smoothly the little town grew to become respected as an independent lordship posing no threat to the stability of the kingdoms as they claimed only land yet explored as well as provided high quality goods for fair price and most of all had proven to be capable of defending their claim with close ties to multiple clans of the North who too they traded with and many of their population called family meaning to wage war on the budding city was to threaten war with dozens of Northern Clans.
As Lady Morgan grew older she at last dedicated the heirency of the kingdom to go not to the first born of their children, but the wisest and kindest as agreed upon by the greater majority of their village in election. She spoke in addition to this that her children, and their children there after must never contend for climate to the throne amongst one another or be exiled from the village entirely, rather they must aspire to fulfill the virtues of nine so that truely the choice will be of a matter of wisdom and deeds, not political game.
Her system saw use in her passing not five years from the inking of the decree, her husband seeing it through before joining her in the after life by seeking a good death at the hands of a worthy foe that would turn out to take the forum of a bear.
The throne passed from one Asalor to another, always electing the kindest and wisest as per the wishes of the First. So it was that the Asalor’s came to value wisdom above all else in the raising of their children. Some studied by marching the fields of battle as mercenaries to learn the ways of men, some never to return. Some would study arcane and some would travel the world to learn of all they could. Most wore a kind smile and words at all times growing to embody the virtues of their parents and kindred before them.
Agathorn Asalor was the son of an Arcane study by the name of Morgan the Fifth. His father was a poet who had thrice seen war before coming to live within the walls of Reimira. The raid upon the city left his mother burned as a witch outside their walls and her son, Agathorn enslaved. His father left alive assumed the role of leadership.
*Many who live in Reimira believe the raid to of been assisted by the Kingdom of Jevin whom still hold a grudge against Reimira and wish to see it toppled. As the raiders were too well outfitted.
“When I was but a young child raiders ambushed my mother and I as we returned to my city, Reimira. I recall very little of my youngest years, save the feeling of cold wrought iron shackles and steel chain binding me in servitude to the men who took the lives of those I once loved. I counted my years by the winters that passed, raised as a slave in a small shanty of a town near the coast in a temperate land yet unknown to me. My duties to my masters that of mundanity, task work.
Freedom came to me in the form of yet another raid. Often I would watch the raiders, brigands and the thugs leave their home, often by foot but on occasion they would set to the ocean and seek the spoils of distant lands. It was one such endeavour that spelled the end. When one such a ship failed to return the village of my masters. They mourned their lost kin only to be met by a riposte of the very men they beset to meet such an ends. Northern born men, long haired and bearded, with skin marred in rich blues and blacks. They buried their ships into the beaches but a jog from my masters village and like the tides of thunder, pressed there forces past the gates. I scarce believe a single man yet lives for in the frey a clutch of my own, the slaves, freed ourselves and saw it fit to join the bloodshed in vain effort to reclaim what years they stole from us. I took my first life that night, a pretty man whose eyes shown as blue as his hair golden. I recall not his rank among the populace nor his name, but only his deeds. A twisted man, overly fond of the finer lot…
When the steel settled and the cries of battle dampened I found myself standing before the tribe of my salvation. Their ranks swelled of equal numbers men and women, their kinship nearly entirely human as was my masters but every so often I would spot a dagger eared likeness of myself hidden among them adorned and treated no different than the rest. I do not think I need to explain why it was I than joined them, yet a child myself scarcely of my tenth winter.
So it became that I was raised in the north by these tribesmen and barbarians who revered strength and prowess in battle, but above that they held honor, wit, and cunning as well as another lot of nine, the virtues I to the day hold above all else in guiding my life.
Those virtues of my kinsmen that now I hold dear are as follows; Courage, Discipline, Fidelity, Honor, Hospitality, Industriousness, Perseverance, Self Reliance, and Truth.
Years spent honing my guile with a sword, now filled with the knowledge of my wise-father I thought myself prepared to dedicate my life to absolving the world of the tyranny I had once felt the sting of. As I came of age I set off from my wintery home to return to the lands in which I was once bound. The decision spurred to being by the whispers of a resistance growing across the sea. Arriving in the land that once knew my unwilling servitude I joined up with the sorry looking group of rebels and together we brought scorn to all who would hold the title of master. So it was that I took up arms against the legion and claimed the title of freedom fighter. A year spent camping in mountain passes, ambushing patrols and supply caravans. On occasion we would find our home to be the cisterns as we laid plans to cut the neck a particular fiend and it was one such occasion that cost me my freedom once more.
In the year I spent with my new-found allies we saw many slaves freed of many races. Some joined our cause and others fled to be reunited with their families in the lands truly home to them. Our plight gained notice and we came to call those we fought legion, after stories of old. By the year’s end we had set our sights on a savage man by the name of Varris who traded in flesh and steel training slaves to die in his name and for the entertainment of the people of legion. Digging ourselves into an abandoned mineshaft outside the city of his current residence we prepared for what should've been but another victorious effort.
We discovered our placement to be compromised, one of our own falling to discite and treachery as they sold us out to secure their own freedom. The legion, rather than sending their troops to claim us from our hold instead waited and laid a trap in place of our goal, one we all too easily predicted with the discovery of the traitor. Without a means of escape from our hold, the legion troops eagly watching all routes, we had little choice other than to see their trap laid into and hope for ill-chanced victory. Refusing to see those I grew to call friends fall to such a fate I proposed my own tactic. A portion of our lot would set into the trap, our lives forfeit for the greater good. In doing so the legion would think their trap a success and in the midst of the battle the greater portion of our lot could escape unnoticed from the hold.
To rally a fair lot to agree to this fate I was the first to place my life down for the cause, and was soon joined by those dearest to me. Together we fell before the spears and swords of the legion, taking with us much blood. The swords settling when the last of us had fallen. Those who yet breathed, I among them, found shackle our reward. Destined to the gallows and torment, as such is the price of rebellion. Varris came to inspect those who would of had his life and his evil eye preyed upon us as meat to the hound. His coin spared the execution of myself and another, only to see it extended in time and absolution as we would become his slave and gladiators.
Our purchase a point of pride by Varris, to claim domination and loyalty of those who would of had his life. He set us to carts and thus we became slaves once more. For months we trained amongst unequal companions of all lots in conditions poor fit for the hardiest of beast. The gladiators prior trained showing no pity and offering in place hazing scourn. When the month of inauguration came to end we saw a final test before being marked with the branding of a slave to the arena. A V in the likeness of our master’s titled-name, Varris, placed upon our forearms.
I counted the passing of ten years before I could taste freedom once more. Every such year spent not knowing what battle will be my last. My companion from the rebellion died in the first year and was far from the last friend I witnessed the expiration of. My second breath of freedom came in the form of a stone-elf who was amongst those I had seen freed ten years prior and now came to return the favor hearing of my fate. The pale-elf a witch sorts once claimed to bondage for her innate grasp of the arcane arts. They had acquired a small sum of coinage and used it to purchase my private audience and in doing so we plotted my escape for the very hour. Taken to a private residence we saw silent end to the guards posted to protect my esteemed guest from me, than fled far, to be free. As we traveled without aim.
Once I was freed from the arena I spent multiple months attempting to live as a simple writer and hunter but found myself restless and filled with a need to do something more for the world with my life given talents. After expressing this Evandra, my traveling companion suggested I return home to the place I only vaguely remembered, Reimira. When I arrived none recognized me, however when I was at last able to meet with the ruling king I was quickly recognized by the aging man. Welcomed as his long estranged son.
We two drank and laughed, recalling past stories and recounting the between of than and now. My father sook to make my return public and decree me the heir to the kingdom but we argued as my father wanted the younger man to take the seat of the kingdom straight away to learn to rule under his advisement and counsel.
Refusing the public ceremonies I stated that I will be leaving once more to pursue more noble goals, in the ever lasting goal to become made more wise. I let than my father know I would forming a group called The Murder and bringing aid to those who would other wise go without. My father saw the passion I held and came to a compromise. According to the compromise he had the heirency scribed before only the counsel of guild masters and fellow lords stating I shall rule in the events of his father's death of absence.
My image was recorded and kept with the documents proving my legitimate claim and title, copies sent to each lord and guild master present. Shortly than after I left, collecting a suit of armor from my father as well as a finely crafted sword and dagger. It was a years time after this that I heard rumor of the place I now call home, where undead plague the town and monsters come in hordes bringing havoc and chaos. Setting off to this land I sent letters to the chapters of The Murder now spread all across the realm calling them to join him at Rowin's Crossing; Umbral's Tavern. In hopes to bring peace or, at worst, aid."
The History of Reimira
Five generations ago the riverside land where now stands the city of Reimira (REM-era) was discovered by Morgan (more-gain) Asalor the First. A woman of Northern birth whose blood burned with a need for adventure. When her clan declared war upon another for a reason forgotten to the channels of time, she found herself in love with a handsome carpenter, who when all others fled during the destined raid of his village at the hands of her clan, stood poised to defend his home armed with little more than simple hammer. The two fought and by the battle's end the older man had lost an eye and lay bleeding upon the floor, hands clutching his hammer in determination as he too was once a warrior. Lady Morgan could not bring herself to kill the man, rather she boasted of his foolish choice of weapon and her admiration of his determination to fight against all odds. To what the older man laughed in unison with his attacker. The two continued to speak and found themselves well matched in humor and wit and soon she found herself growing fond of the man.
When the raid had ended she took the man as a prisoner and purchased his slavery before they could so much as board their boats, under the promise to him that once she had bought his life they would leave to a kingdom neutral of their clans affairs and start anew. Neither had family left breathing nor children to care for. That is how they came to live in the kingdom of Jevin (yay-ven). Years passed and the two spawned three sons, sustaining themselves by the toil of city work. Lady Morgan burned with desire for something greater, being a woman she was expected not to fight as a warrior in the army, nor would they offer her command or position of the city counsel or guard. Rather she was restrained to be a tailor, a weaver, or a teacher.
Seeking a better future for her sons and to satiate her own desires she set off from the mundanity of her home leaving them to be raised by her husband in her absence. This is when she discovered the fertile land yet unclaimed that would in time become Reimira. She returned speaking to her husband of the ripe land and together they left to craft a cabin in the remote woodland by the river. As the years past they would often bring back pelts and excess of salt to be traded for coin with which they would purchase tools and tools alone, for the land provided them with all the resources they desired.
As they traded more and more often for coin a friend of Moran, seeing their prosperity, wished to join them. He tired of his position within the kingdom. He wished to be a farmer, to own land and horses. Grow crops and see the manifestation of his work. Happily she had her friend return with her and with him his own sons, daughters and wife. The farmer and his children erected a farm as his wife took to weaving nets, for such was her craft. His farm grew well and with every harvest he would alternate the crops, expand the farm and grow the ever increasing export of the town. Soon travel to and from the old kingdom became tedious and attracted much attention and so the husband of Morgan set to building a boat to hull their growing export and sell in the masses, but not before traveling to the north to seek soldiers for he had heard whisper and rumor of the jealousy of their once-King and feared that he may be pushed to attempt a coup of their new home should he arrive unprotected with such a mass of cargo as to fill a ship.
The King of their last home indeed took notice of their prosperity and indeed desired the little farm for himself as it was on the border of his land. Just as expected, the King was at last pushed to action when the husband of Morgan sold their stock. Sending a handful of knights to claim the farm, he was surprised to find that none returned for the husband of Morgan succeeded in his mission returning home with a small but powerful and veteran militia of the Northern born who made short work of the knights. Furious with their defiance he offered a bounty on the farm to his lords and they too sent soldiers of their own, however they were sent divided for the Lords did not wish to share the bounty and their greed cost the lives of those they sent to claim the farm for the Northern warriors out matched the simple soldiers in experience and in numbers totalling forty in all, the king’s bounty hardly worth the cost of ten. In addition to this none knew the means by which the farm had defended itself for they let no mercenary return alive. Soon scouts made attempt to learn their means and their numbers but the skirmishes drew closer to an end for the Lord’s grew discouraged and wearie of the attempt for such a small bounty that would remain prosperous to the King who dared not propose an edict to seize the farm for to do such would mar’ his name as one who was filled with greed and not wisdom.
With the veterans of the north came sons and daughters who in the years to come would have their own children and so the little farm would expand into a walled village. For years the city grew expanding it’s borders as claim was laid to nearby mountains for ore and quarries for salt. The simple walls replaced time and again. Houses continued to pop up, shops and goods traded and sold between denizens at fair price and without tax for all who claimed the walls as home would hold the title of warrior should they ever be attacked again.
Word of the taxless town where no person was a lesser for placement of birth spread and grew the walls ever more. Soon a tax was implemented if only to stop the influx of people. The township was divided into a number of guilds to govern over each domain assuring all were given fair opportunity and means of continuing. The guild leaders would speak to the Lady Morgan who was now respected with the presence of a ruling Lord. As they could no longer trade to the kingdom with whom they had fought Lady Morgan sook a trade alliance with another distant kingdom to whom they would send ships to deliver goods.
As their trade continued smoothly the little town grew to become respected as an independent lordship posing no threat to the stability of the kingdoms as they claimed only land yet explored as well as provided high quality goods for fair price and most of all had proven to be capable of defending their claim with close ties to multiple clans of the North who too they traded with and many of their population called family meaning to wage war on the budding city was to threaten war with dozens of Northern Clans.
As Lady Morgan grew older she at last dedicated the heirency of the kingdom to go not to the first born of their children, but the wisest and kindest as agreed upon by the greater majority of their village in election. She spoke in addition to this that her children, and their children there after must never contend for climate to the throne amongst one another or be exiled from the village entirely, rather they must aspire to fulfill the virtues of nine so that truely the choice will be of a matter of wisdom and deeds, not political game.
Her system saw use in her passing not five years from the inking of the decree, her husband seeing it through before joining her in the after life by seeking a good death at the hands of a worthy foe that would turn out to take the forum of a bear.
The throne passed from one Asalor to another, always electing the kindest and wisest as per the wishes of the First. So it was that the Asalor’s came to value wisdom above all else in the raising of their children. Some studied by marching the fields of battle as mercenaries to learn the ways of men, some never to return. Some would study arcane and some would travel the world to learn of all they could. Most wore a kind smile and words at all times growing to embody the virtues of their parents and kindred before them.
Agathorn Asalor was the son of an Arcane study by the name of Morgan the Fifth. His father was a poet who had thrice seen war before coming to live within the walls of Reimira. The raid upon the city left his mother burned as a witch outside their walls and her son, Agathorn enslaved. His father left alive assumed the role of leadership.
*Many who live in Reimira believe the raid to of been assisted by the Kingdom of Jevin whom still hold a grudge against Reimira and wish to see it toppled. As the raiders were too well outfitted.
The History of Agathorn Asalor
As told by Agathorn Asalor
“When I was but a young child raiders ambushed my mother and I as we returned to my city, Reimira. I recall very little of my youngest years, save the feeling of cold wrought iron shackles and steel chain binding me in servitude to the men who took the lives of those I once loved. I counted my years by the winters that passed, raised as a slave in a small shanty of a town near the coast in a temperate land yet unknown to me. My duties to my masters that of mundanity, task work.
Freedom came to me in the form of yet another raid. Often I would watch the raiders, brigands and the thugs leave their home, often by foot but on occasion they would set to the ocean and seek the spoils of distant lands. It was one such endeavour that spelled the end. When one such a ship failed to return the village of my masters. They mourned their lost kin only to be met by a riposte of the very men they beset to meet such an ends. Northern born men, long haired and bearded, with skin marred in rich blues and blacks. They buried their ships into the beaches but a jog from my masters village and like the tides of thunder, pressed there forces past the gates. I scarce believe a single man yet lives for in the frey a clutch of my own, the slaves, freed ourselves and saw it fit to join the bloodshed in vain effort to reclaim what years they stole from us. I took my first life that night, a pretty man whose eyes shown as blue as his hair golden. I recall not his rank among the populace nor his name, but only his deeds. A twisted man, overly fond of the finer lot…
When the steel settled and the cries of battle dampened I found myself standing before the tribe of my salvation. Their ranks swelled of equal numbers men and women, their kinship nearly entirely human as was my masters but every so often I would spot a dagger eared likeness of myself hidden among them adorned and treated no different than the rest. I do not think I need to explain why it was I than joined them, yet a child myself scarcely of my tenth winter.
So it became that I was raised in the north by these tribesmen and barbarians who revered strength and prowess in battle, but above that they held honor, wit, and cunning as well as another lot of nine, the virtues I to the day hold above all else in guiding my life.
Those virtues of my kinsmen that now I hold dear are as follows; Courage, Discipline, Fidelity, Honor, Hospitality, Industriousness, Perseverance, Self Reliance, and Truth.
Years spent honing my guile with a sword, now filled with the knowledge of my wise-father I thought myself prepared to dedicate my life to absolving the world of the tyranny I had once felt the sting of. As I came of age I set off from my wintery home to return to the lands in which I was once bound. The decision spurred to being by the whispers of a resistance growing across the sea. Arriving in the land that once knew my unwilling servitude I joined up with the sorry looking group of rebels and together we brought scorn to all who would hold the title of master. So it was that I took up arms against the legion and claimed the title of freedom fighter. A year spent camping in mountain passes, ambushing patrols and supply caravans. On occasion we would find our home to be the cisterns as we laid plans to cut the neck a particular fiend and it was one such occasion that cost me my freedom once more.
In the year I spent with my new-found allies we saw many slaves freed of many races. Some joined our cause and others fled to be reunited with their families in the lands truly home to them. Our plight gained notice and we came to call those we fought legion, after stories of old. By the year’s end we had set our sights on a savage man by the name of Varris who traded in flesh and steel training slaves to die in his name and for the entertainment of the people of legion. Digging ourselves into an abandoned mineshaft outside the city of his current residence we prepared for what should've been but another victorious effort.
We discovered our placement to be compromised, one of our own falling to discite and treachery as they sold us out to secure their own freedom. The legion, rather than sending their troops to claim us from our hold instead waited and laid a trap in place of our goal, one we all too easily predicted with the discovery of the traitor. Without a means of escape from our hold, the legion troops eagly watching all routes, we had little choice other than to see their trap laid into and hope for ill-chanced victory. Refusing to see those I grew to call friends fall to such a fate I proposed my own tactic. A portion of our lot would set into the trap, our lives forfeit for the greater good. In doing so the legion would think their trap a success and in the midst of the battle the greater portion of our lot could escape unnoticed from the hold.
To rally a fair lot to agree to this fate I was the first to place my life down for the cause, and was soon joined by those dearest to me. Together we fell before the spears and swords of the legion, taking with us much blood. The swords settling when the last of us had fallen. Those who yet breathed, I among them, found shackle our reward. Destined to the gallows and torment, as such is the price of rebellion. Varris came to inspect those who would of had his life and his evil eye preyed upon us as meat to the hound. His coin spared the execution of myself and another, only to see it extended in time and absolution as we would become his slave and gladiators.
Our purchase a point of pride by Varris, to claim domination and loyalty of those who would of had his life. He set us to carts and thus we became slaves once more. For months we trained amongst unequal companions of all lots in conditions poor fit for the hardiest of beast. The gladiators prior trained showing no pity and offering in place hazing scourn. When the month of inauguration came to end we saw a final test before being marked with the branding of a slave to the arena. A V in the likeness of our master’s titled-name, Varris, placed upon our forearms.
I counted the passing of ten years before I could taste freedom once more. Every such year spent not knowing what battle will be my last. My companion from the rebellion died in the first year and was far from the last friend I witnessed the expiration of. My second breath of freedom came in the form of a stone-elf who was amongst those I had seen freed ten years prior and now came to return the favor hearing of my fate. The pale-elf a witch sorts once claimed to bondage for her innate grasp of the arcane arts. They had acquired a small sum of coinage and used it to purchase my private audience and in doing so we plotted my escape for the very hour. Taken to a private residence we saw silent end to the guards posted to protect my esteemed guest from me, than fled far, to be free. As we traveled without aim.
Once I was freed from the arena I spent multiple months attempting to live as a simple writer and hunter but found myself restless and filled with a need to do something more for the world with my life given talents. After expressing this Evandra, my traveling companion suggested I return home to the place I only vaguely remembered, Reimira. When I arrived none recognized me, however when I was at last able to meet with the ruling king I was quickly recognized by the aging man. Welcomed as his long estranged son.
We two drank and laughed, recalling past stories and recounting the between of than and now. My father sook to make my return public and decree me the heir to the kingdom but we argued as my father wanted the younger man to take the seat of the kingdom straight away to learn to rule under his advisement and counsel.
Refusing the public ceremonies I stated that I will be leaving once more to pursue more noble goals, in the ever lasting goal to become made more wise. I let than my father know I would forming a group called The Murder and bringing aid to those who would other wise go without. My father saw the passion I held and came to a compromise. According to the compromise he had the heirency scribed before only the counsel of guild masters and fellow lords stating I shall rule in the events of his father's death of absence.
My image was recorded and kept with the documents proving my legitimate claim and title, copies sent to each lord and guild master present. Shortly than after I left, collecting a suit of armor from my father as well as a finely crafted sword and dagger. It was a years time after this that I heard rumor of the place I now call home, where undead plague the town and monsters come in hordes bringing havoc and chaos. Setting off to this land I sent letters to the chapters of The Murder now spread all across the realm calling them to join him at Rowin's Crossing; Umbral's Tavern. In hopes to bring peace or, at worst, aid."
