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Ulderijk, Knight Of The Blazing Sun

By: Ulderijk

"A child born, the mother near. New life begins with death in hand.
A failed life exposes a man, and carries her off into the flames.
The break of dawn washes away the sins thereof.
Near the lake, beyond the tree, the child waits, alone is he.
The flames are gone, but the fire remains."

Reading that somber passage for what could have been the ten thousandth time, Ulderijk breathed quietly as he slowly folded up the scrawled, flimsy parchment upon which the curious verses were written, and slipped it underneath his battered breastplate.

Long ago, an old, widower farmer whom young Ulderijk loved as a father, took him aside after a long day in the fields, and instantly shattered the innocent world of Ulderijk's carefree adolescence. The farmer hesitantly explained that he was not Ulderijk's father, and that Ulderijk was most likely an orphan. Eighteen years prior, while hunting, the farmer discovered a bloodied newborn lying on the frigid bank of a river-fed reservoir, not far from the farmer's own orchards. Found within a bed of floating reeds, the freezing babe bore no identifying information to shed light upon his dramatic circumstance except a sole, precious scrap of vellum, with flowing words written in an unknown hand. Smoke had billowed to the east, and the farmer grabbed the babe before the winter claimed it. The farmer explained that because Ulderijk was now old enough to be a man, it was nearing time to decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and the farmer did not feel right holding back the truth of Ulderijk's unfortunate beginning. Being a farmer was not an easy life, the old man remarked, but then again, there wasn't much money to be had anywhere during such dark and troubling times. Without anyone to truly call kin, lonely Ulderijk made the only choice he had, and he consented to the old man's offer to stay where he was and continue to scrape a living from the infertile dirt.

Before that next summer, the kindly farmer was soon buried along with the seeds in his fields, having been one of the first in the village lost to the recent outbreak of a mysterious plague overtaking the countryside. After discovering that he was better at killing plants than growing them, Ulderijk soon had found himself in town, signing his life in the service of the local town militia. Selling off the small plot of land he had inherited, Ulderijk became a full-time volunteer of the town watch, gaining the reputation of a quick learner and a good sergeant, with a refreshingly common-sense view of military life. The rank and file soon found a solid man of their own within Ulderijk, preferring his straight personality to that of their strutting peacock of a Captain. Ulderijk found that he was a natural in his newly-discovered profession, and felt as though things were coming together once and for all.

But it was not to be. While the casualties were mounting due to the cursed plague, reports of barbarian raiders soon came, multitudes of them. Early on a non-descript Tuesday morning, the town bell tolled with abandon, waking Ulderijk and the rest of the soldiers in the barracks with a start. Within mere minutes, huge northern warriors with disgusting mutations broke down the gates and completely overran the simple wooden palisades, butchering every unfortunate soul in their path like feral, axe-wielding hurricanes. The rest of the unfortunate guard met the raiders head-on, while the second-in-command ordered Ulderijk to run back towards the city center and establish a defensive line. Running down the main road with his armor half on, Ulderijk gathered whatever cowering men he could find, put swords in their trembling hands, and started the task of building barricades out of whatever debris was left over from the abandoned shops and overturned carts. There was no clear strategy but to hold the raiders off as long as possible, in order to give the surviving townspeople a chance to flee through the western gate. Ulderijk had repeatedly witnessed many nauseating scenes of outright carnage, one in particular watching his poor armored captain ripped in half by a brute with a toothed jaw for a forearm, who then took the time to hold down the man's flailing torso so the warrior's partner could stomp the still-living captain's face into the cobbled street. Madness had descended and true chaos reigned.

All should have been lost that day. Ulderijk's head should have ended up on a trophy hook like all rest -- if the Empire's regimental soldiers hadn't arrived minutes before the raider's final assault. At their front, a Knight of the Blazing Sun, in golden and silvered plate armor atop a huge warhorse, bellowed beneath his helmet and unleashed true hell upon the servants of Chaos. The village was beyond saving, but at least a few good men survived with their families to build once again.

On that fateful day long ago, Ulderijk dedicated his service to that heroic knight, who honored Ulderijk by placing him within the knight's personal retinue. After two years of battle and showing true dedication to Myrmidon, Ulderijk himself was knighted by the man he served. Despite having grown up amid grief, destruction, and aimless pursuit, Ulderijk had finally found his significance, delivering the truly lost to glorious victory, and guiding the fury of the Empire against the sins and evils of Chaos.

Bringing his mind to the task at hand, Ulderijk drew another breath, smelling the acrid smoke leftover from the cacophony of the blasting siege cannons. He looked out over the cratered battlefield, and pulled his gauntlets tight. A cursory glance to his right and left brought nods from his steadfast men-at-arms. Drawing his sword, he closed his helmet visor and bellowed, raising his shining blade into the air. A chorus of a thousand voices joined his own as man, elf, and dwarf charged ahead of him, eager to tear their common enemy asunder.

The flames may be gone, but the fire truly remains.

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