Near o'er a century has passed since the time of Lutan, a time even before the Goddess' word had reached the ears of the Algaian land. Lutan was then but a mere goatherd, a young man who loved his animals and was content with his simple life. During the summers he would live on the mountain tending his small herd, while in winters he spent his time in a small village at the foot of the mountain. Here Lutan worked as a carpenter and sold the milk of his goats, and 'twas here, during one of these cold winters, in which Lutan's life changed dramatically.

The villagers were used to visitors seeking shelter from the snow, so were not too startled when a small group of priests rode in to find room and board in the village tavern. On the night of their arrival Lutan was woken by a knocking at his door. 'Twas one of the tavern's stable boys, who asked Lutan to sell his some goats milk to the priests for some kind of celebration. Unfortunately, Lutan had just milked his last goat dry, and had already sold the milk. The boy, fearful of the priests' displeasure, insisted that Lutan check his herd again. Reluctantly Lutan agreed, and went to his barn. There, to his great surprise, he found that the goats' udders were full, and produce three churns of milk before the last goat was milked. With all this milk Lutan was willing to sell some to the priests, and carried the churns to the tavern.

However, the tavern was full, and the barkeeps too busy too tend the priests, so Lutan took it upon himself to serve them. As he walked around the table at which they sat, he retold the story of the magical filling udders, to which they replied unanimously "Praise be to the Goddess." Mugs of milk were given to the priests, who paid Lutan with several strange silver coins. They then asked if Lutan would fill a bowl to feed a young girl in their care. Obligingly Lutan poured milk into a bowl and brought it over to where she was sitting. Lutan took one look at the girl's face and was instantly awed by her beauty. Nothing had prepared him for such radiance, and he lowered his head in respect, looking at the bowl of milk in his hands. But the bowl was not of milk; instead it was brimming with blood. Terrified, Lutan dropped the bowl, spilling milk all over the floor. The young girl laughed at Lutan's clumsiness, and the laugh was the sweetest sound ever to pass Lutan's ears. The sheer joy emanating from this young girl was enough to bring tears to his eyes. All thoughts of blood and fear were bansished as quickly as they had come. However the barman, angered by Lutan's clumsiness in front of his guests, ordered Lutan from the bar. Lutan began to leave, but turned to one of the priests, asking for the girl's name. "Why my lad," the priest replied, "She is the Istar." Confused by this, Lutan left the tavern.

That night Lutan fell into a deep sleep, and dreamt of seeing the girl grow older. He saw her teaching people, and healing others with her words. Wherever her feet touched the ground flowers sprung from the earth, and whenever she spoke, people smiled. Then Lutan saw her as a young girl once more, walking alongside the priests across the mountain passes which Lutan knew so well. Yet stalking them in the bright white snow a wolf waited, long-starved from the hard winter. As the group drew closer the wolf seized the opportunity and pounced upon the girl. Though it was swiftly dealt with the damage had been done. The next morning Lutan woke with a dread fear for the girl's safety, and leapt from his bed with a new vigour. Along with his grey cloak and some bread, he packed a stiff hide jerkin which would serve in place of armour. Then from a chest at the foot of his bed he drew two goat horns to serve as makeshift daggers. Lutan hurried to the tavern to find the girl, but was told that the priests had already left. Quickly he ran out of the village and began climbing the mountainside. Lutan sped to the place in his dream where he saw the girl, and was overjoyed to see her riding between two priests. But then he saw in the shadow of a tree the crouching wolf, and ran over across the snowy pass. Its brilliant white coat lent it camouflage against the pure white landscape, and so the priest had not noticed it. Seizing its opportunity the wolf pounced, at the same time Lutan threw one of his goat horn daggers, which drove into the wolf's shoulder, knocking it off-balance. The wolf crashed into the young girl, sending her to the floor but not causing any injury. The priests, initially shocked by the appearance of Lutan and the wolf, recovered and spread out, circling the wounded animal. Lutan pushed past, and leapt on the wolf, his arm outstretched and holding the second horn dagger. The wolf swiped at him, slashing across Lutan's chest, but to no avail. This time, his aim was true, and Lutan's horn delved deep into the beast's throat. Blood flew everywhere, staining the snow red, and the wolf died instantly.

Rising to his feet, Lutan congratulated himself, for the beast was slain and the girl was unharmed. Suddenly he felt an arm around his waist, and the girl was there, hugging him closely. Lutan put his arms around her and held her, wanting to protect her from the world. She gently held his hand, and led him to her horse. Without thinking Lutan picked her up, placed her in the saddle, then leapt up behind her and took the reins. The priests silently remounted and took up station around them, forming a protective ring.

Over the course of the next few years the girl and Lutan were constantly together, as Lutan felt an overwhelming responsibility to care for her and would not leave her side. The priests showed little sign of displeasure at this, and seemed to be willing to accept Lutan as the girl's guardian. Seeing in him a great strength and intelligence, the priests taught Lutan to read and to write, as well as instructing him in the ways of the warrior, so that he might be prepared to protect the girl from all dangers. They travelled to many lands and met many people. The Isabelle, for that was her name, would tell them of the love and the beauty of the goddess and at times Lutan would tell them his tale. This pleased many of the common folk in the villages they visited as they felt Lutan was a role model they could look up to and achieve as he had.
Our brotherhood is based on the teachings of the first Istar and Lutan, who are symbols to all Algaian people; symbols of strength, kindness and altruism.

Within our temple the great Library contains scrolls which document Lutan's life, which we study so that we may learn from his teachings, and benefit from his guidance. We try to follow his wisdom as best we can, so we try to live our lives as he did. There is a large herd of goats that are kept on the land around the temple, which we take in turns to care for. The goats provide us with meat and milk, as well as wool, and in return we protect them, as Lutan did. We meditate every day, to become more in tune with the world, as well as to strengthen our courage and nerve. Every day, we practise bailar with two ceremonial daggers to learn to control our movements and to teach us the lessons of determination, hard training and discipline. But these bailar are also practical forms designed to protect ones charge as well as ones self.