Full History of Dallasen Wulfhart

Hailing from the city of Stormcrown, located in the province of Vyela (a wooded land with clearings of towns and cities). Dallasen Wolfheart was born into the noble house of Wolfheart -- a House of Honor, Valor, Order, and Justice. House Wolfheart has been known within their province since only recently by the public; for years they have served the High Father and the great House of Velours. Garun Wolfheart, Dallasen’s father and teacher; is known throughout the lands as a strong, powerful Paladin. Before Garun disappeared without a trace on important business; he left the House Ring entrusted to Dallasen -- telling him that, upon his return, he would have Dallasen knighted.
 
Only a month after the departure of his father, Dallasen was resting in his bed. The moon raised high in the pitch sky and not a star in sight; a man appeared -- his face seemed familiar, yet unfamiliar. Dallasen could feel his heart racing even through the illusion that was his slumber. The cold sweat that beaded down his face within this dream followed just the same in the physical plane. A sudden whisper reached his ears, and his heart calmed. “You need not be fright, my child. For I am The High Father, the God of Light, Valor, Justice, and Order. I speak to you this eve to recognize you as my chosen soul in the name of The High Father. Tasked with upholding the hope of the commons and destroying the evils of this world.”, Dallasen began to open his mouth, yet as words began to sound out of his vocal folds, he awoke; sitting up. Four deep gasps of air were all he made now. Just as suddenly as Dallasen caught his breath, another voice met his ears; this voice was substantially more manly than the previous. “Ah, good; you’re awake now, Dallasen.”, the mysterious man by the fire stood next to the stained oak rocking chair’s right arm. His height couldn’t have been five feet. “The High Father has called to ye’ in yer sleep, an’ as such I’ll be havin’ t’take ye’ ta th’church.”, the Dwarf explained. Dallasen was in awe. Of course he’d been in contact with the church due to his fathers involvement with them. But he never dreamed this would happen to him; and at such a young age no less. Dallasen, only but ten years old, quickly pushed himself from his finely crafted bed. The red velvet covers only barely visible from underneath the white bearskin cover, folded over itself towards the Dwarf standing at the fire. “May I tell my sister of my departure?”, Dallasen asked politely. The Dwarf smiled softly, though shook his head. “Yer sister has alreadeh been informed ah’ yer departure. In yer absence, she’ll be conductin’ th’ffairs o’ House Wolfhear’.”, Dallasen sighed with a frown, though offered a sharp nod of his head nonetheless before gathering his things and departing with the Dwarf.
 
 
Thirteen Years Later:
 
The sharp sounds of metal scraping against metal filled the area. Various grunts and yells echoed across the stone walls of the training grounds; Dallasen appeared to be engaged in a spar with one of his fellow initiates. Sweat dripping for both of their manes and just as harshly covering their faces -- they had to have been sparring for at least an hour without a second to rest. A quick overhead swing was brought down by Dallasen towards the barbute on top of his opponent; only to be quickly parried by her. His female opponent quickly dashed to the left and brought her sword towards Dallasen’s left leg, yet her attack seemed to be in vain as Dallasen dipped his sword to block the attack on the flat of his blade. They potentially would’ve gone on for another hour, two, maybe even three; if it were not for Brebjorn interrupting with his thunderous dwarven shouting. “DALLASEN, Y’BEEN SUMMONED BY SIR BRAXTON. Y’NEED TA’ REPORT IMMEDIATELY.”, in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, Dallasen sidestepped Aeirla, bringing his sword quickly to her left arm -- stopping it in between her tricep and her breast. “We shall spar once more after I return, Aeirla.”, Dallasen smiled to the woman before turning around and entering the large stone building. After walking through a series of halls and finely made, red oak double doors, Dallasen and Brebjorn found themselves in the room with Sir Conor Braxton, one of the head Paladin’s in charge of this branch. Speaking in a calculated, noble accent that sounded similar to that of a punctuated Scotsman, Conor beckoned the duo to enter the room further. “Sir Dallasen, you’ll be needing to pack your essential belongings as we are sending you to Stonehelm, a fief residing in the Krest Plains. You are tasked with assisting the House Ostrand in their affairs. This is their signent.” Dallasen opened his eyes; unconscious on the ground; Brebjorn and Aeirla were kneeling at both his right and left sides. “Are y’alrigh’ there, lad? Y’fell rather hard an’ ye’d jus’ beaten Aeirla at ‘er arm?”, Brebjorn asked cautiously and Aeirla kneeled in silence, almost fearful that Dallasen may have been cursed; regardless of the lack of evil auras in the vicinity. “I’m… Fine. But I believe--”, Brebjorn nodded his head and stood. “Good then, y’and I need ta’ talk ta’ Sir Braxton. Seems he has some orders for ye’.” Dallasen’s eyes went wide for a moment before sighing. “He has orders for me to go to the Krest Plains, to assist a noble House in Stonehelm.” Brebjorn choked for a moment, coughing violently, “How’d ye’ know tha’ already? Er--, up with ye’, we need to be seeing Sir Braxton now..”, Before entering the room, Brebjorn had told Dallasen to stay outside. And about a half hour later the Dwarf exited and looked to Dallasen. “Well, ye’ already know where t’go. Jus’ know tha’ Sir Braxton believes it tae have been The High Father again. In which ye’ ‘ave a higher blessin’ than any o’ us can bestow fer yer travels.. Be safe, Dallasen. An’ feel free to write if ye’ find yerself with some free time, aye?” After saying his goodbyes to his closest colleagues in the church, Dallasen packed his belongings and departed to Stonehelm.