Character History

Maldor was born in Taldor in the summer, but the exact date has been lost. His father Derrik was a lumberjack and his mother, Melndra, made a cozy home out of the cabin his father had built in the woods. Maldor had a brother and 2 sisters all of them older.
 
Late one winter evening when Maldor was 5 he awoke to a great commotion and to his mother running into the children's room. She shushed them and told them not to make a sound. She hurried them downstairs and out the backdoor and told them to run for the woods. Maldor did as he was told, but before he got 10 steps a man riding a horse appeared and cut him off from his siblings.
 
The rider turned his attention to the older children. Maldor ran toward his fathers lumbermill and hid amongst the piles of sawn lumber. Eventually the rider came searching for him, but a cheer and wooting from the cabin drew his attention away.
He heard his siblings cry out and then another cheer. But still he hid. He hid until the first rays of the sun broke the horizon. The riders left. He waited until past midday, afraid the men would come back, but there was complete silence.
He crept out slowly and approached his home. His mother was in the main room of the cabin. Her clothing town asunder. She had been violated gods know how many times. She had been tortured and finally her throat slit.
 
He found his siblings bodies. They were in various rooms of the house. It was impossible to tell what had been done to them. They were all in different rooms of the cabin. They had been mutilated and their limbs were scattered about the rooms.
He found his father on the front porch. The only wound on him was from an axe blow to the forehead, the head of the axe, snapped from its haft, still buried in his forehead. Maldor used all of his might to pull the axe head from his father and sat holding his father for many hours.
 
He sat there for many hours, until well into the next morning. He heard the sounds of horses approaching. He started to run and hide again, but stopped himself. The lead rider was a man he knew. Sir Simian, a knight that would stop by every few months to check on the family, swap news and to enjoy one of Melndra's delicious meals.
 
Sir Simian and his men at arms spread out to either find the raiders or at least some trace but their passage had been well covered. Simian took stock of the situation. Nothing appeared to have been looted. Nothing burned. Nothing else in the area had been damaged and they had no indication that any other homesteads or farms had been attacked.
 
The knight gently questioned the boy but it appeared he had little to add. The boy didn’t have any relatives anywhere near. Sir Simian knew that the boys family had been immigrants, so that was no small surprise. The only clue in the whole matter was the axe head Maldor had found. The knight decided the only course of action was to take him with him, at least until he could be placed in an orphanage and perhaps with luck adopted.
 
Over the next several weeks as they travelled from hamlet to hamlet. Sir Simian watched with humor and interest the boy aping the training his squires were doing when they stopped to rest. He was shadow sparring, practicing footwork, and was told more than once to CARE for the horse, not to try to ride them. One morning he even appeared in a crudely made breastplate fashioned from a giant piece of birch bark.
 
Eventually, the party made their way to the first town that had an orphanage. Sir Simian stepped inside to talk with the head master. All anyone knows there were heated words, shouting crashing about… then silence. The headmaster flew out the door and landed in a groaning heap. Sir Simian walked from the door and stepped over the headmaster. He strode back to the party and look straight at Maldor and said “You are coming home with me, lad.”
 
Maldors home life was very good, but not perfect. Sir Simian treated him as one of his sons. Sir Simian’s wife? Not so much. For some reason she always treated to boy coldly. Not badly, just coldly… like he was an unkempt stranger you were meeting for the first time. Maldor struggled to find some flaw in himself, some slight he had given, but try as he might he was unable to find anything.
 
Sir Simian on the other hand was a second father. He saw that the boy received training not only at his hand but that of several weapons masters as well. Sir Simian’s squires (who were his sons) also worked with the lad. They taught him how to care for the horses and armor, how to attend to a knight. And perhaps most importantly, how to get in trouble like a proper boy does.
 
As the years wound on, Sir Simian progressed in court, eventually being appointed as a Military Ambassador to Absalom. The next few years were dizzying and happy. Maldor was surrounded by sights, sounds, smells and flavors he could never have imagined. And the women came in an endless parade of variety! Oh the wonders of Absalom! Maldor could have spent his whole life there.
 
On a cold winters morning Maldor was awakened by his brothers with the news their father had died suddenly the night before. They all wept together. When Maldor inquired as to what was next, his brothers looked pained. They explained to him that the instructions that were given to them by their mother were clear. “If anything happens to your father, return with your father’s remains but leave Maldor there. He will find his way.”
 
He briefly tried to be a member of the Absalom guard (too much corruption), a caravan guard (too boring). He finally met Braston and together they eventually vowed to meet every year at the annual festival, every year adding more friends every year.