David Richardson


David was born in the small farming community of Moorshead. A minor town at the far Northern border of King Albright’s lands, Moorshead marked the end of the Human territory. Beyond stretched out the wilderness of the moors and Orcish land.

Being on the fringe of the wastes, it was not uncommon for Moorshead to be subject to Orc raiding parties. As such, the town required that the eldest son of all families be sent to train with the town militia.

David’s training began on his sixteenth birthday, and while he did not find any real interest in the combat at arms, he had an apparent aptitude for it, advancing through t the process quicker than most.

All of this changed shortly after David’s nineteenth birthday, when a full war party of Orc soldiers appeared on the horizon. With no time to make it to the stockades of the main town, David took shelter in the root cellar of the farmstead.

It’s not as though that David heard the cries of his parents, nor were there any frantic bangings on the cellar door that went ignored; however, upon emerging the nest day to see the devastation that had once been his far, these ghosts images were all to easy to take to heart… There was nothing left but gutted and smoldering building frames.

With his parents presumed dead, and the farm in a state beyond which he could repair in hos own, David turned to his “Uncle” Desmond in the militia.

“Well, I have no beds for half-hearted soldiers, but neither do I have a full lot of horses. I will make you a deal: You care for the other horses, you train every day like you mean it this time, and you can stay in the stable.” It was enough. From that point on, David threw himself into the combat training with a renewed purpose. But, again, this was all to change.

The coming of spring on David’s twenty-first year saw the arrival of King Albright’s army, en masse. In response to the large scale attacks by the Orcs, the King sought to push the border out all the way to the sea.

The successful campaign saw an end to the town militia, as the King’s garrison set itself up in town. Moorshead became Moorscrossing, and bloomed into a busy trading post.

David Richardson

Three Keys blazinace