Oliver Williams, Son of thrawn williams. centuries ago i was born, i wasn't born in wealth, i wasn't born homeless, I was born on a farm. this farm was covered in wheat corn and a variety of other crops.
one day in the spring months i was born on a farm with an elven mother and an elven father, my mother had long black silky hair, with ice blue eyes and lips as red as a charry. my father was very muscular and vary tough, he ran the farm for many years. as he woken one day to the sounds of screaming my mother whom had seemed like she had been attacked, my father quickly grabbed his sword in one hand and axe in the other as my mother was lying on the cold floor, with blood dripping from her chest, arms, and legs my father had helped her up and sat laid her down on the bad which i had been laid up on, as he let her go he hears a baby cry in the distance, to his surprise he had seen a bulky pale orc standing there looking back at him and as he took a step towards the door my father had thrown his axe at the orc and buried the axe into the orc's spine as the orc dropped to the ground, my father had jumped out of the house to catch me, but he was too late, he had picked me up and cradled me but i did not cry i was silent, then he remembered there was one man who could heal me, with me in his left arm and his sword in his right he ran to the mountain, while he was running he felt a extremely sharp pain hit his back but it did not stop him he kept running to the mountain and as he got half way he turned to look behind him as another arrow had just been shot into his back again and again, the closer to the door he had gotten the more arrows filled his back. as he reaches the door te wizing of the arrows had stopped, he knocks 3 times on the door with blood rushing out of his back, suddenly the door Opens, the last words to leave his lips were, take my son train him, feed him, clothe him make him strong, that is my last wish, as he got lower to the ground his breath suddenly stopped. as the man in the black cloak closed the door my eyes opened i only saw a man with a long dark brown beard with a hood and some sort of tribal markings on his face with a scar across his eye. after that day i was raised in a house hold of warriors and merchants men who had been through battles that no man could have dreamed of. that kind of war leaves a mark, years later i was trained and taught the ways of the warrior and the first thing i learned to do was fall, but when you fall you get back up, till you fall again, but with each fall you learn how to stand, with each bruse you learn how to heal, with each cut you learn how to fight back. for Years and years i was trained till i saw the last breath of my master, that is when i learned that i had been training in the art of war for over 100 years not just studyinging the art of war but learning it. after i saw what my master was trying to teach me i had gotten word of an orc camp outside of the home that i had grown up in and as i was told to be careful i had let my anger get the best of me and i had gone to that camp and slaughtered them where they stood, as they dropped i stopped in my tracks as i saw the one man with an axe which i could hardly recognise till it hit me that was my father's axe, the one he used to take down that orc that had taken me from my home, and what else i had spotted stunned me even more he had a scar down the center of his back and as i saw the scar i said to myself i will not let you down father, the anger washed over me and as i saw the orc one last time, all i saw was his head on the ground at my feet. as i saw the orc headless on the ground i fell to me knees and screamed as loud as i could. 23 years later i had said my final goodbyes to the men and women who had raised me and taught me how to fight, i had closed the door with my father's sword on my hip and his axe on my back, as i started to walk i knew my life and journey had just begun. as my mother told me as i was a child before she died.
"may your forests be a sanctuary of peace and your children long lived.”
