Fritaux

Anseld was born in 1722 to an Orenian woodcutter and a Waldenian milkmaid during the reign of Godrey II The Gambler. It was assumed that he would follow in his father’s footsteps and take up the axe, however, he took an interest in matters of the Canon, the Pontiff, and religion. As a young boy, his primary goal was learning to read. His parents, both illiterate, sent him to learn from scribes in a nearby village. Within a year, he was fervently reading scripture and bombarding the dinner table with talk of God and the glory of creation. On the cusp of adulthood, Anseld attempted to be ordained as a Priest. He failed, not on account of his knowledge or devotion, but because of his proclivity for raving and advancing wild theories about theology. Nevertheless, he continued his studies independently and took up work wherever he could find it. He worked in orchards, shined shoes, and fixed thatch roofs. In all of his endeavors, random as they might have been, he sought spread the good word of God across Oren. This was often to the annoyance of local inhabitants, met with loud-mouthed tirades on the street and wordy sermons in the tavern. Most ignored the man as he grew older, even in times of religious conflict and sectarian divides. After all, he was mostly harmless, with no proper affiliations or ties. At the age of thirty-four, Anseld was a bit too harsh with a group of elves. He criticized them for worshipping ‘false gods’ that were ‘innately tied to the natural world’ and ‘altogether neglectful of humanoid artifice and the totality of creation.’ Later that evening, the elves corned him in an alley and beat up the man. He did not fight back, stating that it was not God’s plan. Even as they bruised his face and broke his hand, he believed that they would, one day, see the error of their ways and embrace the light of the creator. After his run-in with the elves, Anseld learned to be less standoffish and keep his passion reined in, especially where nonhumans were concerned. He continued doing odd jobs and begging when no one would hire him. This vagabond lifestyle would eventually bring him to the city of Oren. At the age of forty-two, he stood on the winding road that led to the gates. As Anseld made way for a passing group of soldiers, he noticed the silhouette of a church spire. With little more than an old backpack, a canvas cloak, and tattered clothes, he entered the city.