Family of Outcasts - Aaron McLeod (read with me txt) 📗

A shimmering, golden disk began to shine through the forest. Through the many cracks, tiny little beams shone small amounts of light, stirring several of the creatures within. Ever so slightly, the sun rose up above the tips of the trees, bringing light to the land and banishing the darkness. It was the beginning of any typical summer day, with the birds singing their soft morning songs and the rays of light reflecting off the lake like crystals. By the side of the lake, animals creep from the forest to take a sip of the clear, clean water and breathe the fresh morning air. On the west side of the lake, there was a small monastery that looked out at the forest and lake. It was surrounded by a small stone wall that was slowly falling apart from age, along with the rest of the building. The gate was made of the toughest lumber in the area, but was slowly beginning to rot away from age. There was a kitchen on the south side, with a small garden in the middle of the yard, and the church on the west side. The north side was the study hall for the people in the monastery and the west side was where everyone slept. A small little sparrow flew to the round, stained glass window and began to sing its heart out to awake the sleepers within.

“BANG!” went a loud noise. The sparrow and many of the animals at the lake fled back to the forest for safety. Smoke began to rise from the roof of the west side of the monastery. Inside, everyone within had awoken suddenly from the loud noise. These were not monks though, nor were they nuns, pilgrims, or weary travelers. Instead, they were children, all but one of them below the age of eighteen. This monastery was not a regular monastery. It was the orphanage known as Greymoor, named after the lake.

Greymoor Orphanage has once been a regular monastery, inhabited by men of the cloth. They were monks of the Holy Guardian, the religion of the native humans, who would provide food, shelter and safety to those in need. However, the monastery was sacked by bandits and it’s holiness tainted by sin and evil. People forgot about the monastery and the forest overcame the entire area, enshrouding it with plant life. Years passed on, until a group of travelling pilgrims of the Holy Guardian came across it while travelling. After searching through the ruins, they decided to restore it with the blessing of the church and the help of a nearby village named Cathvas. Greymoor was restored, but not for the purpose of a monastery, but as an orphanage for any children, even if those children were elves, dwarves and orcs.

However, the orphanage had fallen on hard times. No orphan had been adopted for over a decade, many sections were falling apart from disrepair and there was only one of the sisters left to tend to the children. That woman was Sister Hanalos. She was but an infant herself when her mother along with several other women discovered the ruins of Greymoor and restored it. Seventy years later and she is still tending to the place and to the children. Despite her age, Sister Hanalos was very strong willed to complete any task she came across. This would be a very stressful for her, leaving many lines and creases across her face. Her nose was long and pointed, but her face always had a calm and gentle expression. Tied up in a white cowl was Hanalos’s long, soft hair. The hair showed little remaining snippets of black hair, but the years had turned most of it a very dull grey. She was also a very tolerant person of people with negative sides to themselves and would always offer comfort and support to those who needed it. On the other hand, she would be very strict with keeping the more rowdy children from wreaking havoc. That day of the loud bang was such a day.

Quickly storming from her bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, she grabbed an oversized wooden pot scraper from the kitchen, then headed back upstairs to the boys room. She opened the door and called out three names.

“Aldus! Oldus! Jordan!” She yelled loudly. Three boys quickly sprung from their beds. Two of them looked almost identical to each other and were very young. These were the twins, Aldus and Oldus. The other one was taller and a little older, but still fairly young. This one was Jordan.

“Get upstairs now!” Hanalos yelled again, pointing upwards with the pot scraper. The boys quickly bolted out the door and hurried to the right, up another set of stairs into the attic. The four other boys just sat in their beds, trying their best to stay quiet while listening in on what might be said. There was a loud thud and soon after, very hard coughing. The three boys quickly returned to their room and ran to their beds, all of them covered with dust. Sister Hanalos came in right after, wiping dust off of her face and her nose.

“I thought we agreed no more cherry bombs?” She asked them with a very restrained tone. Jordan got up from his bed and stood in front of Hanalos, his head held low and his long hair handing over his eyes.

“I told them not to do it!” Jordan said very quickly. “I warned them not to, that we’d get in trouble if we did. But they wouldn’t listen. They said it would be okay and that you’d go easy on us. But I knew they would be wrong, but they said they were right, but-“

“That’s enough Jordan. You’re always defending these boys for the things they’ve done. You don’t always have to. Now go downstairs with everyone else and help prepare breakfast. I’ll deal with Aldus and Oldus.” Hanalos said to him, her tone now much more calm and relaxed. Jordan and the rest of the boys quickly scurried out of the bedroom, with Aldus and Oldus still in the room, smiling nervously. Hanalos put down her pot scraper and sat down on the bed across from the twins.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’m going to do with you two. You both run around this place, wreaking havoc, disobeying me and the others, letting off cherry bombs at random throughout different parts of this place and even breaking some valuable objects.”

Aldus and Oldus both just sat there, with their heads held low, doing their best to try and hide their smiles.

“But at the same time, you’re both great in your own ways. You provide comfort for anyone who gets hurt or is ill. When you do listen to someone who tells you to do something, you do it straight to the letter and sometimes even do a little extra. And you are both very protective of everyone, especially Jade.”

They both just sat there, their heads held up now, both of them surprised at what Hanalos had just said.

“You two are so much like your mother.” Hanalos said as she stood up and hugged the both of them. “Now both of you get downstairs and help with breakfast before I make you clean up the mess upstairs without food.”

The twins both quickly bolted out the door as Hanalos picked up her pot scraper and headed downstairs with them. To the right of the stairs was the kitchen, which was now bustling with activity of all the orphans. There was a total of ten orphans still living at Greymoor. The oldest of them all was Arthur, nineteen years of age. He had short brown hair and dark brown eyes. He could have left the Orphanage when he was eighteen if he wanted to, but Arthur chose to stay with Hanalos to help look after all the others, just as he had his entire life. Arthur had been born at Greymoor, when his mother had shown up at Greymoor’s doorstop a day before she went into labor. She died shortly after his birth. After Arthur, there was Athos, the second oldest of the boys. His hair was a very dark red which many people confused for black, with the redness only really noticeable if light shines on it. Athos was a traditional orphan, his mother dying from a disease and his father from suicide. Athos sees himself as someone who tries to impress any woman, but in the end fails miserably.

Below Athos, there is Ragosh, who was part of the controversy and reason why no one adopts children from the orphanage. Ragosh was sixteen years old, with bright blue eyes and pure white hair. He was also half human and half orc. His father was the orc, who once raided the nearby town of Cathvas and raped Ragosh’s human mother. Raghosh’s mother had decided to keep him, regardless of his half-blood. However, after he was born, his mother’s husband was angry with rage and strangled her. He tried to kill Ragosh too, but could not bring himself to kill a baby, even if it was part orc. Instead, he brought Ragosh to Greymoor to be raised there with the occasional visit from the husband. Ragosh was violent and liked to get into fights, but only if he has a reason to, which was usually when someone insulted him or someone else for their mixed blood.

Next there was Brendwin, the mute, fifteen year old, pureblood elf. He had long blonde hair and green eyes and a leave shaped birthmark on his side. No one knew where he came from or why he was alone with no family, but that didn’t matter to Sister Hanalos, so she decided to take him in. Then there was Jordan, thirteen years old and always the one taking the blame for the antics and pranks of the twins. Jordan used to live alone with his father, who was an abusive drunk that would constantly beat him. This was the cause of him always taking the blame, even if he didn’t do anything. He lived there until he was six, when he ran away after his father passed out from drinking. His hair was red and long, often tied back into a ponytail.

Then there were the twins, Aldus and Oldus. They were both eight years old with Aldus being the older twin. Their mother was once a sister at Greymoor orphanage, who decided to help Hanalos after she found out she was pregnant. She cared deeply for the both of them and would keep them from getting hurt. However, one day that is what caused her death. The two of them had run off into the nearby forest for fun and their mother followed them. Their mother caught up to the two of them, but a rabid bear chased after them. To save her children, she helped them climb up a tree where the bear couldn’t reach them, but the bear grabbed her and mauled her to death as Aldus and Oldus watched. Ever since then, they always looked out for each other and the other orphans. However, that didn’t stop them from being troublemakers, as they would often let off cherry bombs when guests were over, get into fights and pull little pranks to get attention.

Finally, there were the three girls at Greymoor. The oldest of the girls was Hannah at the age of seventeen. Her mother was a prostitute who was unable to keep her daughter in the brothel. She left Hannah on Greymoor’s steps and was never seen or heard from again. Hannah had long black hair and her eyes were the most unique of everyone at Greymoor. Her eyes were heterochromic, which is when one eye is a completely different color from the other.