My name is Harlock:

My First memories are of a song my mother sang to me as a child. I never knew my father, though from what I have been told he was a great adventurer. My mother hardly ever mentioned him growing up. She did talk about him at length only one time, and that was when as I child I had been playing at swords, with some friends. She looked out our country cottage window and saw me thrusting and parrying at our imagined foe, a Fire mage if I recall, and burst through the cottage door. I was swiftly lifted off of my feet and summarily beaten with my branch of a sword. Through the taste of my own tears and the sound of my own screaming out I heard her loosing her venom at a husband that had gone off and been killed on Teras Isle while seeking fame and fortune as an adventurer.

The significance of that event would never really strike me until some time later. I continued to grow and to work around the cottage, but as my teens approached, Mother's health began a rapid state of decay. I took on more and more responsibilities as she became less able to do them. By the age of thirteen my dear mother was reduced to an invalid, unable to act for herself. I continued to nurse her, but nothing I did was able to help her save one thing. Every meal as I fed her, I would sing to her that same song that she sang to me in my childhood. As I did she would sometimes squeeze my hand so faintly, but I knew it meant that she loved me, and that I could still bring her happiness.

I'll never forget the last time I sang that song to my mother. It was a beautiful spring day, and I had come in from my planting chores to feed her lunch. As I spooned in the rolton stew with one hand, I clasped hers in my other as I sang our song. Mother would not eat any of the soup so I stopped singing and asked her what I could do, the only answer I received was that ever so faint squeeze of my hand. I knew now that she sensed the inevitable. Choking back the tears and sorrow from my voice, I sang to her as I had never sung before. I put my whole soul into our song. I looked into my mother's eyes for what I knew would be the last time I saw a single tear drop from her eye upon her cheek. As our song ended my mother gave one last sigh and with what was her very last shred of strength, she squeezed my hand. Her eyes closed softly, and unable to hold back I began sobbing.

For some reason I wanted to keep singing to her, my voice cracking with passion and sadness I renewed my song and as I did, I felt something new and unreal. The power with which I was singing was not my own. It was a manifestation of all that was inside of me. This time as I sang to my departed mother the bowl of stew I had been trying to feed her flew off of the little stool it had been on and flew into the cottage wall. The death of my mother was the birth of my gift. Somehow though, I figure Mother always knew.

At that point I was too grown up for thirteen, but too young to be a man. I continued to toil about the cottage alone. Music was my only companion. I went on by myself until that winter. It was bleak. I thought the whole glacier had moved to my front door. One day I was gathering bits of wood for my fire and cooking I was singing my and my mothers song. I was missing her terribly and it brought me solace to hear the melody she had taught me so well. As I was singing, two very beautiful and graceful beings approached me. They were dark in complexion, but so fine of feature I could only stare at them.

"Don't be frightened." said the smaller of the two with a voice that was a melody all it's own, "My name is Cylista and this is my husband, Attricus. What's yer name, silken voice?" "M-m-my name is Harlock Connigal." Now the one she called Attricus spoke "What are you doing out here in this terrible weather all alone? You can't be more than 12 for a human of yer size." 'I'm thirteen!" I injected, rather annoyed by his implication of being such a youngster, "and I can take care of myself, thank you." Attricus laughed while a beautiful smirk curved Cylista's lips. Cylista spoke up. "Well, of that I am sure of, Harlock, but as it would seem, my husband and I are lost and it is cold, we were hoping we could find lodging in these parts, Know ye of any?" I examined them with an appraising stare, they hardly seemed to be in need of assistance I had thought, but my mother had always taught me to be kind to those in need. "Only my cottage. Yer welcome to stay with me for the night, though there isn't much room." They both smiled at me and Cylista winked at Attricus as she spoke, "We would be delighted and most thankful young Harlock."

Annoyed again at the reference to my age, I turned and led them both back to my cottage through the snow. As we all sat down and shook the fresh fallen snow from our cloaks, Attricus built a fire in the hearth. I noticed that he didn't use any kindling, but merely uttered some strange words and gestured at the logs and they instantly ignited. Cylista took notice of my surprise and soothingly reassured me that it was all right. She told me that she and Attricus were a sorceress and wizard, respectively. She explained to me that there were forces in this world that some people never learn about, but some not only learn about them, but how to use them and shape them to obey their commands.

When Cylista told me that I too had that ability my jaw hit the floor. Attricus then joined in and said I did indeed have it in me, and that they had felt it when I sang my song. Thinking back to that day my mother died, I confessed what had happened. As my story unraveled tears flowed freely from Cylista's eyes, and Attricus put a reassuring hand upon my shoulder. It was difficult to talk about it, but in a way, it felt good to finally share my feelings with someone. Thus began life with my new family.

Cylista and Attricus told me of adventures in faraway lands with all different types of beings. They explained that they were dark elves, and that there were giants and little people called halflings and dwarves and many others. I call Cylista and Attricus mom and dad now, and somewhere I know that my birth parents are proud of me. I am a Bard in the Town of Wehnimer's Landing, but my wanderings take me all over. I have seen so much, and yet I know I still have so much more to see and learn. My name is Harlock Connigal and I know many songs, but my favorite is the one my mother taught me so long ago.