The Order of Arnath’s Fist. That’s all I’ve known. Sure, I tried living life outside of it for a while once we were on Mardrun, but that didn’t work like I thought it would.
Like all humans, I was born on Faedrun. I lived within the Order’s borders. My father was a Lion. He fought on our borders, defending from enemies that wanted to see us fall. My mother could weave the divine magics, but studied herbs and healing. She never wanted to trust alone in the healing power of the divine. I tried to study with her, but it never stuck real well. I could only get so far with it. I never felt as passionate about healing like she did, but I always helped her like an obedient daughter should. I felt at peace outside the walls, hunting for food or acting as an escort for my mother and her expeditions to find new herbs. I was never an extremely strong fighter, but I could hold my own and my father knew I would defend my mother until I couldn’t swing a weapon. And even then would use whatever strength in my hands to be sure she could get away. I was always proud that he trusted me with her, but wondered if by letting me be the one to fall instead of her, did he value her life more than mine? I could understand why if so, but never bothered asking. That wasn’t what was important. Protecting her, always being strong when needed and not asking questions was what showed true strength. By the time I reached my teen years, the undead became an overwhelming force and it was apparent we needed to leave Faedrun. My mother would not leave until my father came with so that we all would be together, no matter if that was on this earth or the next. After we got to Mardrun, my dad helped to build the stronghold in Starkhaven. That’s when I began to question whether I should stay or venture on my own. My parents never pushed the Order onto me for a life to live, but they didn’t deny any of it from me either. With a short discussion of not having regrets, I left the Order to search for a life outside of it. That life was much different than I expected. I was proud to have been from the Order, but there were many out there that did not feel the same fondness or gratitude towards it. Ulven whose families were relocated, even some killed. They say the Order only treats those that look just like them well. I would always defend the Order, spreading the word to anyone that would listen that the Order were the defenders of the weak. This got me in many fights. A couple times left beaten to a pulp from groups of Ulven that didn’t feel the same. Less than a year went by before I came back to the Order. I had realized that the Order was in my blood and nothing would make me more proud than if they accepted me into their ranks. Times had been hard for the Order. No support from other human groups, the loss of so many Order members falling in battle. Now rejoined with my family, we all worked with the rest that stayed to keep the Order in as good as shape as we could. I trained when I had time, studied when I was too exhausted from fighting. I petitioned to join the Order. I was first accepted into the Layorder as a Scout. I knew my fighting was not up to Lion standard, but I wasn’t a complete dunce in it and I could read the land and people pretty well. With more vigilant training and dedication, I was accepted into the Eagle ranks. I felt complete. I was home.