Chapter 1: How it all began.
In the world of lore, one needs to be born with a sword in their hands and a good head on their shoulders, in the case of Titus voorshak, maybe he should've just stuck to his family's business, blacksmithing. But his family's business was long overdue from reality, when he was just a boy, at the age of two, his village was attacked, ransacked by the nearby horcs, over a roast of frogzard. Ironically, they said it was too undercooked and punted the chef into the cooking pit. Now, almost fourteen years later, our hero Titus, whom he resides with his brother, Tomass, in the distant town of battleon, nearly four weeks journey over harsh seas and through a vast, deadly desert, they have been in in this town for their short, yet miserable lives. Tomass was a thief, providing whatever he could for his baby brother, now, he became the true lord of the thieves. He taught his brother in the art of thievery and swordsmanship, yet he has not seen the outside wonders of this world. He has not truly seen the world of lore, through the eyes of a hero, through the eyes of a teen. Sixteen years, the age when a boy becomes a man in lore, he has not yet slew a wretched zard, nor tasted freedom of his small town, but today, he shall let it be known, that he is a force to be reckoned with, to be the gratitude of the poor and bane of the rich and corrupted, he shall be Titus the Red, true son of lore! On this day, there is a dark, ominous cloud reaching from far into skullholme, reaching its bony tendrils over to swordhaven. Titus hears a familiar voice, his thieving brother calls out to him.
"Titus! Boy! Go to the sword haven market and buy us some prized meat from the royal cattle, here, this should cover it, and then some! Bwahahahahahahaha!" went Tomass' famous guffaw, the one he was known for from battleon to doomwood.
"Aye brother, I'll be back before sundown, may your pockets grow heavy with gold!" said Titus as he left running, but he had thought of one thing, of the thieves in the wretched back alleys of sword haven , he had over seventy-five thousand gold, two cuts of prized cattle would be only fifty thousand, the other twenty-five could get him some new clothing and a set of daggers. Off he went to Yulgar's inn, where the best steel in all of lore is forged, and for a reasonable offer, as his brother told him the wise words of his late father. "One must value his blade, wits, and capabilities over all else, and when in doubt, figure a way out!" Those words echoed through the cave of a skull, bouncing off the walls, echoing with reason.
"Aye! M'lad, how be it today, hmmm, those clouds over there in sword haven, lookin' mighty suspicious eh? Bwarharharhar!" said Yulgar, cleaning one of his mugs. "Listen to me blather, what d'you need laddy?" asked Yulgar.
"Wise old smith Yulgar, please forge me two light daggers, worthy of my late father, I've brought some ingots, please, forge me the greatest pair of daggers worthy of your name!" said Titus, almost trying not to beg. "Here, I'll compensate you for the work, how does twenty-five thousand gold sound?" Added Titus.
"Ahhhhh, mighty fine offer boy, I'll forge you some steel-leather armor, one mustn't go out unprotected these days!" said Yulgar, bringing his hammer down on a piece of metal.
After what two hours of forging, his noteworthy items were forged. The daggers were well balanced, and sharp enough to cut through horc steel, and have great aerodynamics when thrown. And the armor was well suited, flexible yet strong, like what a true rogue and thief needs. He left for the long trek to swordhaven, taking in the sights of life outside battleon, peaceful, except for the occasional attack of zardman or zard, even the little sneevils were sort of funny, always spouting lines about boxes, the most superior choice for storage.
He had arrived in swordhave by three in the afternoon, just when the good cuts were sold, he hurried to find that the crowds were gone, replaced with skeletons, brandishing large weapons that would kill a draconian dead in one hit, the cold, lifeless glow of their eyes signified one, dark thing. They were the undead servants of Sepulchure, The kind of death. There wasn't time for rationality nor making peace, would you like having a hammer to the face or an axe in the back, no, no you wouldn't. Titus was quick on his feet, and even quicker with a blade, they didn't even have time for their shrill screech before a dagger was jammed down their skeletal jaws, still writhing before they turned into a pile of bleached bones. Then came the mages, sporting flames and ice, burning the town red, and chilling it blue, all at the same time. They were weaker than their sword toting brethren. Then a horn blew, and the iron monger appeared, a warrior from the nightmares of paladins everywhere. Armor so thick and vile like the walls of a fortress, a sword so large a mountain would run, and eyes so red even the most violent shade of crimson would look pink. So now, this was Titus' last moments, should he run, the warriors will decimate him; standing his ground is virtually suicide.
"Mother, Father, your child is coming home" his last words. As his eyes shut for the last time, all the sounds faded, and then a cry shot out.
"FOUL CREATURE, PREPARE YOURSELF FOR MY BLINDING AXE OF LIGHT!"
A loud crack pierced the air, as though a lumberjack had ripped into a very strong oak, then a roar like a wounded horc shot through the land, and then an earth-shaking rumble shook the ground. When the boy opened his eyes, a triumphant Paladin stood atop the sliced skull, axe thrown over his shoulder, hair blowing in the winds, while embers backlit his appearance.
He mouthed only the words: "who are you", jaw open in awe.
"I, kid, am Artix von Krieger, Paladin and undead slayer extraordinaire!" shouted the paladin.
"Oh, whoa, so slaying the hordes of undead is your job, AWESOME!" shouted the young Titus, sounding childish.
"Yup, king alt- KING ALTEON! Kid we gotta get to the castle, HURRY!" shouted the paladin, realizing what this initial attack was, a simple diversion while the powerhouse units converged to the royal castle.
Read on in chapter 2 to find out more