Nick_Alderson

Ever since Beam’s family was killed, and he was sold into slavery, he’d been affected by a certain sensation in his chest. A dark gnawing. As if there was someone else inside his body, cackling at his struggles. Even as he wields his pickaxe deep within the slave mines, he feels the grip of another hand, trying to guide his own. Something dark, something ominous and powerful, wanted everything that he had left. He could feel its want. In the place of despair, he felt rage, and he resisted it.

Years later, it still remains. He trains to try and silence it. Every day, for hours on end. In the pouring rain, and in the freezing snow. Naturally, after so many years, someone – or something, finds him in such a state. With the lightning flashing, he is discovered by a creature of vaguely human shape, but with a left arm so purple it looked like it should have been rotten to dust long ago. “If you’re going to do it, do it properly,” the monster sneers, slapping the stick out of Beam’s hand, and putting a sword in its place. “Swing it,” the creature commands.

Only when he begins to train with the creature does Beam begin to notice changes. The voice is louder now – angrier. But there’s also something else along with it. A yearning to go with the gnawing. It’s a warm feeling, as if it was a woman’s hand on his shoulder. It stays with him, and only continues to grow in intensity. Two voices speak their mind, and they grow louder. With them, Beam’s desire to grow stronger grows– and finally, true progress begins to come his way, along with a strength that few can believe.

Months pass, and once more, Beam’s world changes. The villagers that had once avoided him begin to show interest in the boy. There’s something mysterious about him, and something that seems to be almost incredible. That fact is sealed for them, when one day he turns up with the corpse of an impossibly strong Hobgoblin. He almost seems too big for the village.

Tragedy occurs, and once more, Beam’s name is taken. The hands of the powerful look his way. They see strength, and they include it in their games. Under the guise of immense secrecy, his past is hidden away, and he is given a new name, that of Oliver Patrick, and he is given a new place amongst minor nobility.

Join Beam - and later Oliver Patrick – as he fights against his fate, and claws his way up out of the mud that he was born into, and begins his war against the powerful men of the Stormfront.

A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

There ran a young man, robbed like a monk, with a rope holding his brown uniform to his waist. He carried Oliver's jacket with him, and his sword. Seeing them, Oliver felt a spike of panic. He was even more disoriented than he had realized.


"Thank you," he said simply, as the man handed him what was his. Oliver noted the man's bald head – shaved, he was sure, for the man seemed to radiate youthfulness, despite his serious air. Serious, yet smiling, he was a contradiction.


"Verdant, Monk of Behomothia," the man introduced himself, extending a hand. A monk, and yet, the ways of nobility streamed off him like a bad smell.


Oliver looked at the hand for a moment, noting the ring, before taking it.


"Isn't Behomothia a sea Goddess?" Oliver asked. "I thought we were quite a distance from the sea."


"Ah, you're wondering why, then. Shipwreck – thirty dead, I found myself washed up on the Eastern shores. Was quite a journey back, but with Behomothia's blessing, I made it," the priest said.


Where Danger Lies - Part 10