Waroe Family/OrlenRP/Arrival in Oritolon

Arrival in Oritolon

Orlen joins the realm.

Arrival in Lurgrod

26 Jul 2011
to everyone in Oritolon

Orlen says goodbye to his uncle as he leaves the house to embark on his career. Looking nervously behind him, not wanting to leave the comfort and protection of home, he moves towards the group of archers that his uncle has recruited for him to command. Walking alongside him is Harlen, his scribe. The two had met by mistake as boys playing in the woods one afternoon, and had got to know each other after a long discussion about the fact that their names rhymed. Alike in more than name, they might have been good friends had it not been for their class differences, and instead, Orlen had employed Harlen as his scribe and confidant some years later.

Orlen [pointing at the archers]: What am I to do with them?

Harlen [shaking his head slightly]: I don't know, sir. Perhaps find something for them to shoot at?

Orlen: Ah, yes. Men! Please form a line, and spend some time honing your shooting skills by shooting at... erm... that tree. Don't stop until you've all made contact with it.

Orlen [turning back to Harlen]: So, what to do while they do that.

Harlen: Nothing, sir.

Orlen: Nothing? You suggesting we just stand here?

Harlen: No, sir, I mean we can't do something while they try to hit the tree.

Orlen: Whyever not?

Harlen: They've all already hit it, sir.

The archers, by no means outstanding, are nevertheless stood in their line, bows by their side, each with an arrow embedded in the tree which stands only ten yards in front of them.

Orlen [quitely to Harlen]: Gosh, that was good, wasn't it?

Harlen: It might have been a bit easy, sir?

Orlen: Oh, yes. Well, shall I give them a harder task?

Harlen: Oh, yes, a fine idea. Why not get them to fire at that thistle?

Orlen [louder, to the men]: Excellent work! That was, um... the warm up. Now your real test. Stay in your line, and fire at that thistle. Two silver pieces for the first man to hit.

Harlen: Very good, sir.

Orlen [to Harlen]: I suppose it is a thistle, is it? I can't tell from here.

Harlen: Not too sure, sir. It might be a fallen tree branch. Or a piece of broken armour. It's awfully far away, not easy to tell from here.

Orlen: Well, that should keep them busy for now, then. Keep an eye on them that they don't cheat. I'm going to find somewhere to sit and practise my new piece.

Harlen: Very good, sir. There are a few letters here for you as well.

Orlen takes them and sits some way off, enjoying the view from the side of the mountains, and trying the new melodies on his reed instrument as it echoes around the nearby rocks.