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

The effects of their enthusiasm reached as far as the Yorick men too, however, and some of them had begun to join in, along with Commander Yorick himself, who awkwardly asked Firyr for directions.

"What is it you intend when you train like this?" Yorick asked Firyr, swinging a spear beside him.

"Huh?" Firyr said. "I dunno. Just the 'whooosh', I suppose. Cutting the air in two. That sound. You hear that?" Firyr said, demonstrating by thrusting his spear forward with all his might, twisting his hips over to support the motion. As he had said there would be, there was a crisp whoosh, as the air rushed past the tip of the spear.

Beside him, Yorick looked rather doubtful as he tried the same. He was no master of the spear. He thrust with all his might, and turned his hips over just as he had seen Firyr do, but he found no song sung by the air, there was no whooshing. All he felt was the aching in his arms.

Movements of the Battle Board - Part 4