Role

Chapter 1

Being the son of great warriors was not all it was cracked up to be.


Growing up in Darsylon, Deiramor had a good life. He never went hungry, was
clothed and sheltered, and surrounded by generally kind and altruistic
people. The only thing missing was that so precious commodity: family.

Both of Deiramor's parents were soldiers of no mean ability (his father a
warrior, his mother a paladin), and it was a once a year affair for
Deiramor to spend time with them both at the same time. Often both were
away for months at a time, and when one returned it was almost always alone
while the other remained.

Deiramor did not know what they fought. Noone would tell him when he asked,
stating he was too young for such things; but when they thought he could
not hear, there was one word which came up without fail.

Maethian.

Yet he treasured all the times he could spend with his mother and father.
He didn't mind that they seemed somehow wearier each time they would return
to the city in the trees, or that often they would be unable to play with
him while they recovered from injuries. He would sit and listen as they
would tell him of what it meant to be a protector of people.

So Deiramor lived a happy if lonely life, and treasured the moments as they
came.

But it was not to last.