Tristano Martinell the man who raise Orderic, would often tlll him the story on how he found him.
Tristano was a successful con-man who would travel from town to town making a meager living taking money mostly from naive women who fell for his charismatic smile.
On and evening with a large full moon, while camping out in the wood he heard what sounded like small children laughing and giggling. Not knowing why , he followed the sound the best he could, as it seemed to constantly changing direction. A fog had slowly rolled in to the forest and he soon came across a clearing. The laughter and giggling grew louder and something, a feeling made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He looked in to the clearing and the fog suddenly disappeared. In the centre of the clearing he saw a horror that haunted his dreams for the rest of his life. Two bodies , a young man and woman were laying in their own blood. The clearing was covered in it. The sound of the laughter grew louder, and more diabolical yet remain child like.
Tristano was about to turn to run when something caught his eye. A small baby, wrapped in a blanket laying behind the young woman. It moved. It is still alive. He ran quickly to the child. The young boy was awake , its face covered in his mothers blood. As he picked up the child, multiple voices all singing “leave him, he is ours now. “
The shadows started to close in on him. Tristano quickly fled with the child thru the woods. The laughter changed to shouts of anger. He could feel small hands grapping at his pant legs, trying to make him fall. “HE IS OURS!”, “LEAVE OUR PLAYTHING!”. The voice coming from all around him and nowhere at once. He continue to run
Not knowing how much time had passed since first finding the boy, as he felt like he was running for days, Tristano broke out of the forest and along a path that lead to a near by town. Once out of the wood the children’s laugher was getting softer, until it was gone.
Scared from his night in the wood, Tristano had decided to stay in the town and no longer venture out in to the woods.
Orderic had heard this story multiple times while growing up. It was always after the bastard got drunk and beat Orderic. “I should have left you in that g+* d~@n woods. You have been nothing but a curse. “
For as long Orderic could remember the man had been a drunk. Telling tall tails about how he used to be some suave ladies man. He never felt any love for the man. This was most obvious when he arrived home one afternoon coming back scrounging for food. He found Tristano slumped dead in his chair. A bottle of some rot-gut broken on the floor next to a blood stained knife. The knife Tristano had used to slash his wrists.
Not knowing why, but Orderic felt compelled to burn down the rat-infested hovel that he and Tristano had lived in. He was only 11, however he felt more alive then he ever had in the past. From somewhere in the back of his mind the name ‘Orderic Vitalis’ was repeating over and over. “Yes, That is what I will go by now, Why have I never been called that before?”. Orderic tried to remember if the drunkard ever called him by anything else then boy? “Ah forget it, let him burn in hell.”
As he walked away from the burning hovel he thought he had heard the sound of children laughing and giggling. He looked around with his dark red eyes, eyes that were stained by his mother’s blood the drunkard would say, and shook his head clear. No he was just hearing things because he was hungry.
As the years passed, Orderic learn to fend for himself. He became skilled at liberating people from the burden of having to deal with their coinage, and valuables. He would roam the countryside as a traveling harlequin performer. Perfecting his craft.
