Sahalin Family/Oran U.

Description

Location: Pian en Luries, Dwilight
Standing: Knight
Height: 170 cm, (roughly 5'9)
Eye colour: Green
Hair colour/style: Black, trimmed close to the head.
Appearance: A midrange build, the tanned skin inherited from field-working ancestors, left eye missing, nose slightly out of place.
Unit: Solomon's Tears

Notable servants/aides

Tolles: Oran's aide, and majordomo.

Memories

The First Memory

Oran's eye drifts out of focus, recalling his youth...

The fire crackles, and he draws near to it for warmth. This cold is setting into his bones, and it is difficult to sleep. His head aches, and his eyes fail to focus. He has felt ill for many days, but he must not let weakness show. Any show of weakness will cause the other children to resume their game of tormenting him. They harass him for his tanned skin, a sign of generations of laborer ancestors. They understand that this means he is not the same as them. He has had to see the sweat of his brow seeping into the soil, dampening but not nourishing the crops.

He recalls the dark, leathery skin of his father, who spent his days in the fields, growing the crops to keep the family alive. He recalls his father leaving, and letters returning with a new signet stamped on. He hears his mother telling him that his father has made a name in the new land, and that they are to be sent for immediately. They will be leaving the small island of their ancestors in favor of the mainland. He remembers learning of the rapid growth that enabled many families like his own to make a name for themselves.

His mind reels, and time leaps forward a few years, he is lying on the ground, and he is bleeding; but that is not his concern at present. He feels the fear growing in him. He cannot see. He is surrounded by darkness, and he pieces together what has happened. He was running along the road, kicking a stone about, it was one of his favourite games... He recalls trying to stop suddenly, and turning his head aside as a branch comes swinging at his face, guided by a child who had been waiting behind a tree on the path. He hears the peals of laughter coming from the other children, and he drops onto the ground, too addled to even reach out a hand to catch himself. He hears the children's laughter stop. They realize something is wrong, but they do not know what. Oran mutters a soft cry, and feels a liquid rolling to his mouth and ear. It is warm. He can feel the life in it. He knows it is his blood, but he does not know why it flows. He steadies himself, and rolls from his back to a sitting position. His tears slow, and he finds that he is not blind, but something is still wrong. Everything seems thinner, more compressed. His head is suddenly struck by a thunderclap of pain, and he falls unconscious.

The next time he wakes up, he is in his bed, a healer sitting over him with a hand resting on Oran's forehead. The healer tells Oran that he has been asleep for nearly a day, and that there is some bad news. He tells Oran that the branch that he was hit with broke his nose, and must have shattered following the impact, launching splinters into his left eye. The healer tells Oran that he had tried to remove the splinters, but he had no experience in that sort of operation, and had only served to damage the eye further, prompting its removal. The healer is confident that with time, Oran will adjust to the monocular style, and he warns Oran to keep a wrapping over the socket, to keep it from becoming infected.