Urys Flameborn and the Legacy of the Flameborn Family
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Urys Flameborn and the Legacy of the Flameborn Family by Ferwen Tir
Urys Flameborn and the Legacy of the Flameborn Family Born in 166 and found outside an orphanage in Uluthiane. A locket around his neck named him Urys. His left hand was scarred by fire and clasping a thistle. So he was known as Urys Thistle. He was raised in the orphanage among other children whom he befriended. He came to be known for his natural talent of magic, particularly fire magic. When he was twelve, the master of a travelling troupe came to the quiet village and adopted the boy. The orphanage had to give him up, as adoptions were rare and food was scarce. Urys didn't want to leave the place he called home and the friends he had made, however, the door of his home was shut to him, and he followed the troupe out of the lazy coastal village. The troupe travelled the land, avoiding dangerous regions and making a living in shows of magic, acrobatics, music and games. Urys became a master of his craft, and his skill in fire magic was second to none. His stage name was Flameborn, and people flocked from towns to see him. The troupe, who were always suspicious of the orphan, jealous of the master's special treatment of him, and fearful of his magic, shunned Urys, isolating him. Urys became more solitary, his actions were brash and sometimes unpredictable. The rage in him fuelled his temper and he practiced his art hour upon hour with a fever.
In time, when Urys had grown to be a young man, crowds at the shows became more scarce. Fewer and fewer people came to see the Flameborn and the troupe of artisans. The Master, who had been asking around the villages one morn came to tell the troupe why this was. "Bands of orcs have been raiding these towns and villages in the weeks past. They say the greenskins have come from the mountains, moving along the coast, pillaging as they go". The master then took Urys aside, "The orcs have been sighted near Uluthiane, Flameborn. You must not return there, they will kill you, I will not have my talented fire burn out. Besides, Uluthiane is days away. If you journey there now, the place will be silent long before you arrive!" Urys broke free of his grip, staring the Master dead in the eyes, "There is more to life than your games and tricks". Urys ran. Through the forest, and judging by the sun, towards his orphanage, his home. Shouts from the fat Master behind quickened his pace, "Get the Flameborn! There! If you don't wish to starve!". Trees whipped past him, hills rose and fell beneath his feet, villages sped by. For days he ran, it seemed the fire in his heart lightened his step. Rarely resting, only to ask news of the orcish bands in villages here or there. As he drew close to his home village, billows of smoke choked the horizen. At the road into Uluthiane, he stopped. Villagers were fleeing in every direction, women holding babies.
Fathers and sons, all shouting. To the north, his left side, he heard the clash of steel and squeals of pigs. Rushing to the houses on the north hill, Urys saw before him a band of nineteen well armed fiends. They had killed a pig farmer and his family on the edge of the village and were making short work of the pigs. Urys grounded himself, and taunted the grunting skirmish ahead. Some ran at him, others watched and gored the pigs, soon dropping them to join their beastly bretheren.
The first group were engulfed by flames, short blasts that scorched the ground around them as they let out fleeting howls (amid a faint smell of bacon). The next were more cautious, well, as cautious as orcs can be. Spreading out, they rushed the boy, who in one quick motion offered a wall of searing flames between them. Urys' heart was beating, head swimming with images of his youth. Leaving the writhing orcs behind him, he ran to the eastern point of the village, to the orphanage. There, to his horror, he found it destroyed. The bodies of young children strewn, gashes in their pale skin. From the remains of the building came a second band of orcs. The heat in the air was felt immidiately, some survivors claimed to feel it from the hills around. The earth seemed to open, and from it burst liquid fire. Circles of flame danced around the chasm, melting all they touched. The heat caused the winds to rise and whip the flames in all directions, searing to the bone any orcs that had not been swollowed up by the flaming pit itself. The Flameborn fell to his knees from the effort, having rid Uluthiane of all savage beasts, he fell into a deep rest. As the villagers returned, they discovered the brave boy. Others told of the battle, how he had saved the village. Some recognised the stranger to be Urys, and fights broke out over who should take care of him and tend to his wounds. The old mistress of the orphanage took the task. Nursing him back to health, and it is said, days after,
when he woke, he said to her "I was too late for them", rising from the bed, leaving behind the people and their gifts to him, and the place he was raised. He is said to have travelled to the largest city, Empo Sar, to live in annonymity. There he married a woman with long curls of red hair, and fathered a child, living many years to a quiet death along with his wife. The only child of Urys is said to have vanished in search of the troupe Master, who had kept many scrolls and writings of his father related to Flameborn's mastery of fire. No one has heard of him since. A statue dedicated to Urys Flameborn was erected in his hometown. It stands tall and proud, Urys' scarred left hand outstreched, engulfed in flame, the flame of hope. Its red stone bears likeness to the fire which he wielded. It reads "Here stood The Flameborn. Who burned bright in the darkest hour". This is the legacy of the Flameborn family.