nce, not so long ago, there commenced a horrible and bloody war. The king of Talamh had been assassinated by
the traitorous Duke Riocard. A great and horrible war ensued as the widowed Queen fought desperately to save her beloved kingdom. Unfortunately the evil duke had allied himself with the Fomoriah, that ancient and evil race of faeries. In the final battle he cut the young queen down and claimed her kingdom for his own.
             After the battle
Rohan, a captain in the queens forces, heard a thin mewing wail coming from somewhere on the field. He stopped and, curious, searched the field following the sound until he came to the body of a woman and hidden under the folds of her cloak lay the source of the sound, a tiny baby kicking her little feet and crying out in hunger and loneliness. Rohan stared at her. She was, at most, only a few minutes old. Why was this innocent little creature laying in her birth fluids in the middle of a battlefield? With gentle hands he lifted the little girl up, wrapped her in her mother's tattered cloak and quit the battlefield with his precious bundle held close.
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