In the winter of the year 407, there was born of Alusara and Elias Fenlarath a son. They named him Lorias, and he was cherished by both his parents, for he was an only child and thus much loved. Elias was a warrior, a ranger in the service of the elf queen of Sith'a'niel, and the Selkwood where he made his home for his small family was the cathedral for his simple but honest faith in virtue and the infalible beauty of the world. But in the fall of the year 432, a woodsman came upon the home of Elias. He found the wood cabin to be in ashes and smouldering ruin. Not far from the wreck of the burned house lay the body of Elias over that of his son, as if trying to guard the child even in death. His mithril blade was shattered, his arrows spent, his wounds enough to lay a mortal low many times over, and about him lay the carrion of the enemy against whom he had so valiantly fought, but in vain. Of his wife, the beautiful Alusara, there was no sign. Thinking the boy to be dead as well, the woodsman prepared the pyre for father and son with a heavy heart. But as he laid the boy upon the bier beside the dead warrior, the child let out a moan and a whisper of breath. And so the young Lorias did live. And so the woodsman carried the child back to his native Taslamar and there placed him under the care of the wise priest Devan. Thus it was that Lorias became the foster child of Exile, City of the Free and so was separated from the native Selkwood of his birth. The path of Lorias into the arms of the Lord Xandrennus was not without trial, but much of this is written elsewhere. Suffice to say that in the year 532 Lorias finally won his spurs and was knighted in the Temple of Duty in Sith'a'niel by the man who had become as a father to him, Sir Seydon, High Knight of the Silver Dragon. Within a few short years of that, he sought service and was accepted by the Queen's Chosen, the Hammer of Light. But his service to the Hammer was not without mishap nor error. One fell summer, one of many wars came to the streets of Exile. The dust of battle barely settled, his sword bloody and his blood still high, Lorias heeded a cry for help from one that had seemed to have given aid in the battle. And so, rushing into the Temple of All Gods, he slew a man called Reorcyn without challenge and in defilement of the sacred sanctuary of Devan's Halls, misled into the deed by his enemy, an ignoble sorcerer whose name is better left to rot in the dust of history, forgotten. Humbled and ashamed, Lorias made his atonement as dictated by his Church, reminded time and again that he was mortal and thus fallible but challenged by his own heart to strive to rise above his failings. But the deed came ever back to haunt him; the fear that until that dark day, Reorcyn the Heretic, though undoubtedly dark of heart, had not yet been confirmed in his dark path, and that the ignoble actions of the young paladin had, in no small part, led to the evil that was to subsequently follow at Reorcyn's hand in the years to come. But all this is history, and the year is now 577. Reorcyn was to rise as his adversary, ever reminding Lorias of his failings, but Lorias was to grow strong and strive ever to better overcome them. And so he stands strong now. Yet young by the measure of his elven blood, he remains as the last Knight of the Order of the Silver Dragon, the paladin house of old that once rode to glory beneath the banner of Xandrennus, his chosen Lord. He further serves his Queen and country as Knight Commander of Taslamar, a high station that he sees not as the fulfilment of any personal ambition, but as his simple duty, his sacrifice to his Lord. But he carries a sorrow in his heart, for his elven blood is both a blessing and a burden. His long years have left him standing whilst many of his friends and loved ones have crumbled to time and found their peace and rest, their duty done. Yet this sorrow is tempered and soothed by a quiet joy, an unshakeable belief in the infallibility of virtue, and the nobility of his cause. And by the legacy of love and brotherhood that past friends have left behind and that new friends give cause to endure. And he does endure, and continue, for, as his old friend and mentor once taught him, the learning never ends for so long as faith keeps you strong and open to the world and its ever enduring beauty.