According to Daniel

The Story According to Daniel …mostly:

A country well known for its magic and soldiers, Dugrood was filled with mages, and knights, and mage knights, and knight mages, and then there were all the other people who never bothered to learn the use of a sword or a spell.

They all previously got along fine until one day when the mages complained the mage knights were wearing too much armor instead of the normal robes. The mage knights said robes were a stupid choice for combat and metal was much more effective at preventing sharp things from piercing their innards. The mages then countered that if the mage knights would give up using weapons and devote themselves to magic, they would be powerful enough to protect themselves entirely with spells.

This caused some tempers to flare.

Mage knights insisted their magic was plenty strong and called the mages a bunch of wimps who don’t know when to change out of loungewear. Some knight mages tried to intervene to make peace, but someone made a comment about knight mages being as useless as knights. Not surprisingly, that comment highly offended the knight mages and the knights – who had previously been amused by the niggling of the magic users and had no intention of joining the argument. And that’s when the mother insults started.

After that, there were many threats, a considerable amount name calling, and some crying, and alliances formed. Those alliances eventually decided they wanted to inflict harm on each other – because a physical wound to the enemy always heals a wound to one’s pride. The conflict snowballed until the entire country had been consumed by war between two large alliances, House Gray Steel and Lightning Eagle. However, no one fought anymore as a matter of clothing preference. All of the original arguments had been forgotten, and the war became a struggle for money, power, control, and a lot more money which can be used to buy power and control.

Many neighboring elf and human kingdoms had considered intervening in Dugrood’s conflict – strictly to be good neighbors of course and not at all for some type of selfish gain – but they all then decided to wait a little longer till the more belligerent, aggressive, and dangerous soldiers in Dugrood had wiped themselves out.

Iehron had not done any fighting in the war, not yet anyway, because he was in training. After several years at a military academy, he had become very skilled with various weapons, a long sword being his favorite, and he was also very proficient in various close combat spells that complemented his swordplay.

Several times students and instructors asked if he considered himself a mage knight or a knight mage but he responded it might be best if he simply fought how he preferred and didn’t worry about which divisive name he used for himself.

Upon turning eighteen and completing his academy training, Iehron left home to partake in the two year trials of the Ohtar. Despite the already numerous divisions of soldiers Dugrood had, they felt it necessary to also have the rank of Ohtar. The title of Ohtar is given to the warriors who specialize in dealing death. They don’t bother with trifling spells or defensive weapons. Rather they learn to kill quickly and efficiently.

As a result, Ohtars are often perceived as surly downers and seldom invited to parties. Such perception may or may not have been accurate. Individual results may vary.

For his trials, Iehron slew fierce monsters, conjured spells capable of shattering even stone and metal, and learned various inappropriate jokes from the others when they gathered around the fire pit each night after an exhausting day. The worst of the trials involved dealing with what many referred to as the “spray beasts”. When fighting the beasts, if the trainees did not kill them quickly – or were not extremely adept at dodging – they would have to endure smelling like a cesspit for many weeks.

His two years of trials and training complete, Iehron had achieved the rank of Ohtar and looked forward to returning to his village of Taloke.

Taloke was part of the Lightning Eagle alliance and provided some of the best armor in the country, making it well valued by Lightning Eagle. But the counterpart to its value was Gray Steel’s desire to destroy it. This was part of Iehron’s motivation for becoming an Ohtar. He wanted to protect his village.

But duty and work could wait. Iehron was given a week of leave before his military service started, and he intended to spend it relaxing at home and catching up with family and friends.

There was a slight problem though. As Iehron crested the last hill on the road to Taloke, he found his village to be on fire. The village was not entirely on fire… but most of it was, primarily the buildings... and some of the villagers.

Sword drawn and destructive magic swirling about his left hand, Iehron rushed to the village, but there was no one to fight. The enemy had already left.

Iehron then ran to his house. He ran to what was left of his house. It too was on fire. He threw open the door and went inside. He wished he hadn’t. The members of his family were on the ground, dead.

But his father began to stir. Startled awake by the slam of the opened door, Iehron’s not yet dead father rallied the last of his strength to speak with his son one more time.

“Father!” Iehron yelled, kneeling at his father’s side.

“Iehron, you’re back,” his father coughed. “Did you happen to learn any healing magic while on your trails?”

“No Father. I learned spells that can destroy and disintegrate things.”

“I see. That’s not so helpful right now. No matter. Listen my son. We were attacked by Gray Steel. They could no longer allow us to help Lightning Eagle. They killed every smith and carted away every item they found. However, they did not find our family’s armor. Do you still remember where it is?”

“Do you mean the armor your grandfather gave you?” said Iehron. “Yes, it’s behind the false wall in the cellar.”

“Good,” said his father. “Go and get it. The armor contains powerful magic. It will surely be of use to you. Good bye… my son.”

With that, his father stopped breathing.

At that moment, Iehron could have felt honored. It is common and customary for the beginnings of a hero to first start with his being traumatically ripped from the love of family through dreadful circumstances. But he didn’t feel honored. He only felt sorrow and anger.

Once the fire on his house was extinguished and he had given his family a proper burial, Iehron went to the cellar and opened the false wall to find the set of armor that had been passed down in his family for many generations, the armor with very strong magical power.

Magical armor, though not entirely common, could often be found throughout the world. For those skilled enough to craft them, they provided excellent revenue, and adventurers, brigands, and soldiers were always in the market for a shiny new set of equipment with magical features. Such features were limited only by the imagination and magical capability of the craftsman – or sometimes madman – who created them. Most provided protection from fire or lightning or any other standard magical conjuring of an offensive nature one would encounter in battle, but others were less practical such as the armor that transformed the wearer into a boy ten years old. And far away in the land of Batenni was armor rumored to give the wearer an inexplicable urge to dance.

The magical properties of Iehron’s armor were certainly something to be feared and respected… probably. It was difficult for him to evaluate the armor with a high degree of accuracy since he had absolutely no idea what magic the armor possessed. He had never seen the magic used before, and he had no idea how to activate now. But he did know, for certain, that it was magical. Maybe.

Whatever magic it allegedly did or did not possess, on that day, the armor was of no use to him because his family was dead. Unless… perhaps the armor could revive the dead? Nope. That’s not what it did. So it was for certain useless on that day.

He quickly packed the armor into a large sack and went throughout the house gathering up what the fire had left that might be useful to him.

There was a knock on his door.