Born to parents whose name he never knew, Trusian Mallepor was orphaned at an early age. When he was about five years old, his only brother, Vanyel, two, he watched his parents brutally murdered. A hole, enlargened by every blow and slice dealt to his mother and father, opened up inside of him. He watched, hidden, from a cupboard in his family's kitchen, his brother clutched in his arms and hidden from the sight. When those who had done the deed had left, he took his brother and his father's hammer and fled into the forests. There he found solace and safety.

He and his brother lived there, alone, in the forests, for about twelve years. At 14, Vanyel left Trusian for the excitement and newness of the cities of a far realm. Trusian was alone. He grew bitter. He grew angry. He began, one awful night, to attack his home. With his father's weathered hammer, he beat upon the trees of the woods, shattering the branches, sending wood chips flying. When he had exhausted himself, a strange thing happened.

Before him, formed out of a swirling of maple leaves, the elf he later learned to be Tradescant Sylvain, Lord of the Forests, stood. He smiled down at Trusian and the warmth contained therein was nearly a match for Trusian's own cold soul. He spoke. He told Trusian of his brother, now become a famous bard in those far realms. He told Trusian of his duty to his brother. He bade Trusian find Vanyel, for he knew that without his brother, Trusian's caustic spirit would waste his mind away. He knealt down beside the human and picked up his father's hammer. The elf concentrated upon the hammer for a moment, and it was remade. He gave the hammer back to Trusian and said, 'My child, brother of the forests, go.' Trusian picked up The Rage Hammer and stalked off.

At the age of eighteen, Trusian found his brother. The reunion was not tearful, but it was warm. Within Trusian, a change began to take place. The hole began to shrink. The coldness was warmed some.

A year or so later, Trusian met Sabrina, from a distant place called the Silverlake. When she looked at him, the world spun. When she touched him, warmth flooded his soul. And when she spoke their wedding vows, the hole inside closed up.

Trusian knew that none of this would have happened had the Forest Lord not bade him travel to the near realms in Aurealis. In a gesture of thanks, he formed a group, a brotherhood. He wlecomed to himself all who would pay homage to the forests as the forests themselves welcome all, bringing them close to himself, as brothers and sister. Other rangers, such as himself, as well as those living in different manners came and joined him. And more are welcome.

A year ago, a son was born to them. Cuulth Mallepor, who will someday be a master theif, is their only son.

Trusian is now many years old. The old woulds are there, but they are scars, no longer festering sores. He lives within the forests north from the town of Mesraht, with his wife, son, and daughter, Khaelia. He welcomes all who would honour the forests and who would honour Lord Tradescant to become his brother or sister of the forest, to join together at the Heart of the Forest.

The Heart of the Forest

The Heart of the Forest is a brotherhood. Those who are part of it are bonded in only one manner, yet it is a strong bond, as it reflects each's way of life. Each acknowledges the forests as their true home and lives to protect them from the greed of covilization.

While they are few, they nevertheless are there and will always remain, half-hidden in the underbrush, ready to defend their ways of life. The ForestLord has left these Realms, but his spirit lives on in the hearts of Trusian and his bretheren. His brothers and sisters, whether rangers as he or following differring paths, strive to keep that spirit alive, to aid others when they cannot aid themselves, and to continue along the pure path which leads into the all-welcoming embrace of the forests.

These days, Trusian is much less visible. But he is there, amongst the shadows, watching over his home. He welcomes any who would approach him and speak of the ways of the world, and welcomes all who would join him in the unending task of keeping the forests safe for all time. He is a recluse, but not a hermit. He's there ... somewhere.

"Show thine beliefs through thine actions, young elf, and thou mayest make a friend. But be untrue to thyself, thy bretheren, and the forests thine home, and thou wilt not only lose my respect, but thine own as well."