My greetings to you, fellow traveler. My name is Beowolf. Oh no, not the legendary figure from ages long past, but named to honor his memory, and the spirit with which he fought adversity. Have a seat, and I shall attempt to briefly make known the man inside the armor.

My father was a warrior forced to take up the plow at a young age by injuries taken in battle. I remember little of my mother for she died in childbirth when I was very young; alas no offspring survived the miscarriage leaving me an only child to a widower. The family homestead was in the very small town of Yew. Whose population consists almost entirely of doughty woodsmen and farmers whose task was made the more difficult for the meager produce from the soil. The only item of equal quality to the woodworks in the region is the wine.

I was still a young lad when my father followed my mother into the great beyond, as swarms of mongbats stormed the town with fel orcs in their ranks as well just prior to the great sacking of Trinsic. That was a dark year indeed. At least I know he looks on me from the Halls of Valhalla. For he died, spear in hand, holding the front door of our small cottage as a very frightened Beowolf made his way out the back window.

And so I found myself alone, with no resources in the world except my wits, an old skinning knife, a bow of very questionable quality, and a hatchet.

For the longest time I was forced to make my own way off the forest, chopping wood and trying desperately to make bows for a little pocket cash. That was when I learned the art of speaking with the animals. I was never especially good at it, but these woodland companions helped to pass the time and ease the loneliness growing in a young lad’s heart. Some years passed, and the young boy became a young man. The time of woodcutting had put meat on my bones, and occasionally having some money in the bank had allowed me to make arrows and practice in the art of archery. I felt a need to be able to defend myself for the woods I frequented on the western coast from as far north as Yew and as far south as Britain itself was plagued with orcs, brigands, and many many folks of murderous temperament.

It was after being waylaid by a group of these that I finally became very aggravated and ran through the pass in the mountains into western Britain. I ran all the way to the bank, which was always well populated, and began screaming for all to hear.

“Reds!”

“A League of REDS just west of the pass!”

People actually scoffed, some chided me for such antics. I was dismayed and heartbroken at the complacency of those “city folk”.

My eyes reddened at my frustration. And facing the whole crowd, I cried out.

“FINE, just FINE.” “Ill do it myself”

I proceeded to the bank, and pulled the best bow I had from my deposit box. I was unaware of its capabilities, only that it was MAGIC. Surely this would help me in my cause. And if I could not prevail, then perhaps I could earn a seat at my fathers table in the Halls I still long to see, and we might laugh again and share mead. I was putting arrows in a quiver when I heard a strong voice speak to me softly.

“So, You want to kill Reds do you?” He asked. He did not snicker, nor scoff, but I knew falseness wears a mask often, and had no intention of being lured into a trap.

“Aye that I do sir, with everything in my being.” I answered.

“You look to have some meat on you, but you are a very long way from ready my lad. I think I can help.”

His name was Anubis, and showed me a confederacy of brave souls some young, some older that were known as the Brotherhood. I spent Many months in their company. I learned the ways of battle, singly and in-groups, mastered my technique with the bow and also the sword, and shield. While hunting with FoeHammerer in the bowels of shame one night I achieved that which I had set forth to accomplish. FoeHammerer was a mighty mage

And we oft times kept each other company and had grown in the stature of our peers. This particular night we were beset by two rouges, Foehammerer fell to the blows of one and before my eyes he was revealed as a murderer. The other attempted to waylay me but using my Katana I dispatched him in time to catch the other as he was fleeing with a shot from my bow.

I had killed my first “red”. I was not a powerful enough healer at the time so I was forced to wait beside Foes body for his spirit to return. Eventually another great leader of our group Aragorn the mage made his way to us and all was made well.

More time passed, and the worlds were torn asunder in the coming of Minax our group once strong weakened as time depleted our numbers and new blood was slow in coming. Then the mad land grab in the new lands divided our group by distance, sometimes-even worlds. And I walked alone in a dreamlike state for some time, dreaming of new lands to be tamed in a place that seemed at once familiar and yet only a place of Legends.

When I returned from my mourning for these lost opportunities I was surprised to find that some youngbloods I had sponsored in their infancies had become people of means.

Titled landowners, with warm roves and hearths. And my heart was lightened for a time.

Still it was not enough for the brave warrior to warm himself into a dotard by the fire of those who felt pity for him. I searched and made it known to those closest to me that I was seeking a band of noble souls, veterans of the seasons like myself.

I had all but given up, and taken to too much drink, when one of my closest friends, Mawgwaine, said she had met a very interesting woman while working on her penmanship in Trinsic. She described the Knights of Britannia, and their goals, and their fine hall in the forest. Still I was loath to come, having fallen far into despair over always being alone, so very alone.

Then she made matters much simpler. Telling me that if I did not go to a meeting this very night, she would throw all my things out into the fields and I could take what I could carry and the beasts could take the rest.

That night, I met Mystic Rose, Gil, Furie, Nuno, Malis, Belle, and others too numerous to mention. I hope they will pardon the failing memory of one to whom the world seems new and exciting again. The three pillars were never new to me, but it has been wonderful to live under the roof they support. And for a man who has known companionship, but never in long enough family, it is soo good to be home.