I would be for naught if I did not plead to be forgiven in advance of my tale, as it will no doubt lack the flair and harmony of others. You see, to tell a tale is a bard's task and I am but a humble warrior. My task lie in iron of fist and the girth of chest for it is my job to do battle not to tell the tales. What follows is an account of my days as remembered from the boy I was to man I am becoming.

I was born like any other to a woman. My mother took to labor hard as she was alone with out family or husband. My mother was a woman of great virtues beautiful, charming, and full of breast. Unfortunately for all my mother's virtues, virtue itself was not one of them. Often caught up in the tales of men, my mother was bedded often by many traveling warriors who promised to take her with them in the morn. These men one by one always were gone when she awoke. One of these venturing warriors did grave injustice by leaving his seed behind him when he left. Thus, my very beginning started in error. 'Twas not a fortnight before the druid women around our Dun foretold my mother carried seed and her father set out to reclaim my sire. It was not befitting that my Grandfather pronounced himself in the court of warriors of The Red Branch and he soon was shown so. After a sound, but fair, beating, my grandfather was granted council with the chieftain who planted my seed. My father the Warrior Chieftain "Runaigh" had taken a wife already, and while warriors of the Branch were allowed multiple wives Runaigh would not take another. In gratitude for an heir in an attempt to save honor, Runaigh did give to my Grandfather a golden ring and a note. My father's note said in respect to my wife, the Kings sister, I shall not take the child in but should it be a male give him this ring. Then when the boy is large enough to wear the ring with out it falling off send him to me and he shall be embraced as the son of a hero. Mind you the boy shall take no name but his own and never should he back down from challenge no matter how great the foe. Upon his return to us, still smarting from his wounds my grandfather passed through spending only enough time to relay the message and seal my mother's fate. My grandfather's last words, "your whoring ways have reaped my end daughter may you not burden your mother as such, leave here tonight as she morns me and never return". So it was my mother was bound by honor to abide her fathers dying wish to leave her home before the morn. As the seasons changed my mother traveled, the trails searching for the next Dun but rain and night and the burden of hunger and quite surely the Gods themselves steered my mother wrong. In hopes to seek shelter for us my mother took into the forest and came to rest against a tree. This tree was the last destination she ever found as I was born that evening and the pangs that brought me forth live, took my mothers life.

So my earthly walk began alone as I sat and cried half in utero and half out clinging to my mothers corpse for warmth and shelter. I know not how long I was there alone in the dark all of these things I have but learned through my days since. I was found by wandering druids and taken in by them. I was raised as a druid learning the powers of nature yet never being able to harness them. Quickly I grew larger and stronger than the other boys did and while they practiced with their stones I yearned for more. I liked to play and roughhouse, often hurting boys many seasons older than me. Then one day my druid family said it was time. I was to be told of my true self. The druids relayed to me all that I have told you and presented me with my father's ring. An older druid was brought in to read the letter written in ancient Gaelic and that night my foster parents took me to Emain Moch to find my kin.

My acceptance at Emain Moch was immediate, the letter pronounced me the son of a hero and I was shown honors as such. But Emain Moch was at war and my father was not about. Soon one by one the boys my senior left our playing fields taking up arms to feed the need for warriors. When it was my turn, I ran about the battlefields fearing nothing and trying to kill everything slashing every slash, as if it was my last. In the final battle I was surrounded and soon began taking more blows that I could fend off or even survive when a large red haired warrior came to my defense. The red warrior carried a mighty sword, flowing red with the blood of many battles, slashing into our attackers with large blows. As he fought, the warrior taunted our attackers until they all turned on him and no longer attacked me. I slashed until my eyes were stuck closed with the splattering blood. Until only one foe remained on us, the red warrior battled the foe to the edge of death relenting only to watch me and ensure my safety. At the end of the battle, the warrior's sword broke after an unreal parry of a mighty thrust. The villain then sank his halberd deep into my savior's shoulder driving it down into his chest. With an unknown strength I lodged my sword past the hilt into the attacker and watched him fall. I ran to the red warrior to see about his wounds. As he knew death was upon him he spoke, "boy waste not your time just ensure Morigan gets not my corpse." I swore, "Mighty one, Morigan shall not feast on thee this day." I followed my reply with words of humor intended to remove his mind for anguish and death "mighty sir we must find you a new sword for your Red Blade is broken". The warrior's answer hit me harder than any foe ever could "Are yee hurt lad?" Unsure if the warrior's mind was fleeting as he began his journey into death I hesitated to pursue, yet some unknown surge force the words from my mouth "What do you mean good sir?" "You son, you are my Red Blade a father can have no joy better than to see his son excel in battle. I watched as you tore through all foes in your path as if you were the weapon and not the sword you carried. You my son are my Red Blade my Llfancoch and I am Runaigh your sire." Having spoken these words Runaigh passed. I felt the tears in my eyes before they fell as I had found my father only to lose him again. I cursed with all might against the Erin war goddess Morigan; "never shall you have my father as carrion for your feast this I swear". With the words barely out of my skull a raven no smaller than a man appeared and spoke, "You do yourself too much honor to try and deny me my meal boy." Shocked but not frightened I swore again, "I shall prevent you from feeding upon my father foul bird if I must give up all of Erin to do so." With my words lightly in it's ears the raven grinned an evil grin, so be it. "This is not the only world I have and I have need of warrior's else where I shall allow you the power to grant you fathers wish." Amazed and disoriented I demanded the raven tell me what wickedness rest upon its brain. Morigan spoke, "I shall grant you your wish and not feast upon your father or the other slain of the Red Branch but in turn you must grant me two wishes." Unable to deny my fathers final wish or to suffer the pain and watching the Red Branch plucked at as so many ripened grapes with out thinking I agreed. My yes brought on a fail storm of wind as the bodies of the Red Branch lifted first into the air then lowered in gapping holes in the ground and then covered with dirt. "Now boy," squawked the Raven, "with my promises granted you must now yield to mine. First boy you will travel to far away Norrath and serve me there, where I am known not as Morigan but as Rallos Zek. Your service to me there shall be to bring havoc where ever you go and ensure the meal I missed today is served 1000 times over there." Knowing from the druids the treachery of the Gods, I beckoned for a break in my gez so that I not be forced to serve forever. "Raven I am a man with out family here and most any friend I have know lies buried here along with my father so I shall go to your Norrath and do your bidding but not for ever. Just as the corpses you spared shall rot, my gez shall not be eternal."

"Your days with the naturalist have thought you some of the ways of the Gods I see boy. It is true lad the meat I spare this day will rot and I will grant thee the same gez. Your gez shall not be as fleeting as this inanimate flesh though lad for your weakness shall name it."

"What weakness is it of which you speak foul bird your riddles bore me?" To which the fowl answered, "you are a warrior by trade and a bastard by name boy there in lies your weakness no one shall ever love you."
"Nonsense bird, my father loved me and gave me name today."

"O 'tis true Runaigh called you his Red Blade and so shall be your gez you shall serve me until such time as a fosterling takes you and grants you with out knowledge the name Llafncoch. So it is said so it shall be good bye boy when next we meet you shall call me Rallos Zek."

A stroke of feather later and I found myself naked in an unknown land called Qeynos. I killed all that I saw for food, shelter, and clothing and Rallos Zek. My battles in the hills of Qeynos brought me across a wandering druid named Mykil. Having been at one time raised by the druids, I found a kinship of sorts in Mykil. In the winters that passed a friendship evolved and we swore to battle together as a team. Slaying endlessly, we traveled. First, were the wicked gnolls of Black Burrow, who had taken Mykil's eye, and then beast of far away lands. I aided my friend in his deeds and served the bird. Only later after many battles and some 15 blue winters did I meet Kieel. Kieel was a mighty Paladin trained in the forges of combat and honor immediately reminding me of Emain Moch's mighty Red Branch. Soon the paladin told me of his clan the Forces of Light and their battles against the evils of the world. Unable to loose my memories of the Red Branch anyway Kieel's stories brought volume to my empty heart. A clan such as which the mighty Kieel spoke seemed to be in much the same spirit if not the same order.

Now I fight for the Forces of Light along side the druid Mykil doing the bidding of Rallos Zek until such time as I can be released from my gez. In our journey, Mykil and I have taken many friends into our fold. First, the druid Goldbond whose tender nature brings joy to all around him and who is at times the only one who can relapse me from my battle fury after conflict. Also added to our team was a mighty wizard Cenadebe. While I pretend not to know the ways of magic she wields it just as I my sword. Our final traveling companion is a power healer, Zybor. His skill surpasses any I had ever seen in Erin and most I have encountered in Norrath. In battle, we fight with honor and I watch the backs of my team in a manor I first saw on the battlefield in Erin when my father gave himself to save me his Llaflncoch. It pains me that I can not use my name nor tell stories of my father and day end day out I pray to the goods of Erin that one day my gez will break. Doubly difficult is the fact that at times my gez and the wishes of the Forces of Light are not in tune. My gez often causes strife for my allies for I can not travel with my team nor can I explain why. I tell no one my story for fear my gez will never end.