Well is it really necessary to add something about Torlan? Everybody on Thera knows Torlan, for sure this Elf Priest of Ul has nothing to hide. Furthermore, he is the leader of the Cloporte's clan, so you can be sure he will never hurt you!
Anyway, what do you REALLY know about him. Check your mind, do you remember the day he first came at Midgaard, he looked so hopeless. You could even see tears stains on his cheeks. His old garment made him look as a beggar, so, when the citizens sam him heading to the guild of clerics, no one of them would have bet on the fact that it would become the high priest we all now respect.
Anyhow, when he reached the hero rank, some friends of him gave a party at the midgaard tavern. Due to the quantity of firebreather and beer I swallowed that night, I cannot exactly remember who was there. But, for sure, Astinus, Slaine, Tetard and Rhodes were there. It is common sense that alcohol frees memory. Indeed, after two beers, Torlan's face turned from the happiness expression of being an hero to the sad and desperate face he had when he first came to Midgaard. So did he say:
I remember of my birthland, Erin, my homeworld. How could I forget that now, believe me or not my therans fellow, I should be reigning on my little kingdom far in the western parts of Thera
His friends had never seen him like that, they tried to ease this pain, filling up his pint with the finest draft they could get from the sexton. Hopelessly, One more beer, and the rusty cork that keeped all the sadeness into his tortured mind was giving way.
When I was born, at my father's court, our country was happy. You could hear our people toughtlessly singing on all part of the kingdom. On the tragic year we were invaded by the Easterlings, the weather had been good, the warehouses were overflown by the latest harvests, there were apparently no reasons to concern.
Could my father, had been wise enough to understand that our quarrelsome neighbours won't let us live in peace! Maybe he was conscious of what was on his way and he knew there was nothing to do against. Maybe he considered the incoming slaughter was our fate.
In fact, there had been no war at all. The mighty army of our opponents dashed on our country, plundering villages, enslaving our people and raping our women. They soon arrived at my father's castle. Of course, our guards did their best to save us, the only thing they could do was to offer their live to Mota giving my father's magician just enough time to invoke a portal he pushed me in.
I never saw my father's death, but I'm pretty sure that his magician and him did not die without inflicting high casualties to their opponents. I just can remember the last words he told meMy son, this realm is yours, always remember you're born to reign on itThis is the last memory I have from him. Unfortunately, this words caused the fall of my homeland and they still haunt me in the darkest hours of the night.
Getting out of the portal, I was sheltered by a peasant family that bred me as their own son, excepted that everyday, they reminded me that I was born to be the king and that my duty was to free our country. During my attics, I left them and travelled my country, learning the art of sword fighting from the remainings of our knights that escaped from the slaughter.
I also prepared our revenge. Slowly, peasants and craftmen that composed the majority of our people started to learn the basics of fighting, their hearts were filled with hate against their oppressors. It is beyond my will to describe the atrocities those barbarians commited against my people. Within two years, over ten thousands men ranging from 15 to 40 years old were ready to fight. I was so filled and with pride and blinded by revenge that I could not see that we would weight nothing against a well trained and equiped army.
Therefore nothing could stop the bloodshed. The exaltation of the first victories gained on unwary foes was soon changed into the humiliation of total defeat. More than the two thirds of our fighters were slaughtered. I escaped by miracle when we attempted to regain my father's castle only to fall into an ambush a few hours later
Then I was jailed into my own dungeon. I revealed my name, begging mercy for my people just to listen that the son of a dead king was almost nothing. The repression of the revolt started. It was so brutal that Mota himself was disheartened. He decided to drow our land with both it's inhabitants and oppressors under a terrific overflow. He made me survive for two purposes:Learn humility to save the lost souls of my people from hell.
Help all incoming adventurers in Thera to make sure they won't die the my people did.
To help me on my way to redemption, Mota first moved me to Midgaard, then, he made me forget all my knowledge. I had to start my adventurer life ad my peasants started to fight the oppressors: almost bare naked. Furthermore, I swore I would no more use the sword.
I also decided that I would best help the others being a cleric and joining the Cloporte's clan devoted to help the newbies in Thera. There, I learned from Oumph, Genesis, Tchoum, Slaine, Gremlins and Integra
Finally, poor Torlan could not retain his tears no more and he fell in the arms of good old Slaine. No one was speaking anymore, no one could break the silence after this terrible speach.
Well, this is only the half of Torlan's life, maybe, one day, after another booze-up, we'll learn the second part!If you liked this page, please email Torlan