"Azark! Come inside!" his mother yelled to him, urging him to come in before the heavy storm brewing in the clouds. Azark sighed loudly and dropped his wooden sword that he had crafted by a mason in town," Awww! Come on Mom…rain won't hurt me, not like there's a greedy hydromancer picking a fight with me!" he exclaimed. Azark then walked into the house to find his mother standing in his midst with a great heirloom of a sword, imbued with a large, what seemed to be, glowing shard of some jewel. "It is your Tenth birthday son" she said happily," and I want to tell you how truly proud of you I am, you will one day be a great fighter, an esteemed knight…I want to send you to the castle on the hill, to begin your training. I've already spoken with the master of the academy…you were gladly accepted!" Azark stared blankly at his mother's abrupt willingness to send him off, to allow his knighthood, to say goodbye. "I…Um…Errr…say that again? I think I misunderstood you…I...I can study the sword!?" he said awkwardly with a tone of disbelief consuming his voice. "Yes son, you have the eyes of a lovely fighter, I know you will quickly adapt to a new life…I know you've wanted this since I have told you stories of your ancestors and legends of great adventures. Your wish is being fulfilled, you can finally-"his mother said, her voice being taken over by tears, but gaining control, she finished," be…able to protect your village, to soon become a fighter, armored and bladed….take this…" Azark, now even more shocked in disbelief, reached out, attempting to grasp the handle of the intimidating sword his mother was now presenting him. As he grew nearer, the jewel began to glow, brighter and brighter, reacting to his presence. His mother, noticing this, began to tell yet another tale, of shards and monsters...
"With this blade son, you will grow strong, with this jewel, you will feel everlasting. It is of Kissonotin, A Jewel of power greater than that of even the greatest knights in castle yonder could ever obtain. One had been gifted to the family long, long ago, some call them shards of the warrior, and others call them stones of might. Whatever the name, it is an ancient treasure, one of a power to banish the greatest of demon, and slay the mightiest of dragon. It was once a beautiful orb of a great magic, the magic to bind all elements together, to allow monsters and men to live in peace with one another, the power of peace…and of destruction. With this treasure, I send you to the school of knights…A darkness is brewing in the distance…I can feel it…you son…you must train with this blade and take the path of your ancestors, Awaken the long dormant power of Kissonotin! Do proud the Van'Hoven name!"
Azark's heart was racing, thoughts of battles and epic tales began coming into his head, his dreams, about to become reality. He was sweating in the mild weather, as was he shaking. The boy reached forward in a gasp, gripping hard the cloth bandaged handle, a surge of mystical power rushing through him. The feeling of being ripped to pieces and resurrected anew flew through his body, a sense as if his blood were being replaced with a weightless elixir. His eyes began glowing and his body was shaking, an aura of darkness suddenly surrounded his body, knocking his mother to the ground. The great power of his past was being drenched into his soul. A feeling of weightlessness encased his bones and marrow; a new amorphous happiness filled the room. The dreamlike feel of the moment seemed to stop time. Now the boy began muttering things in a smiling face, words of power and of past, the many truths were filling his head. The jewel not only gifting him with power, but with knowledge was consuming him. Suddenly it was realized by his mother, who immediately jumped from the ground, knocking the blade from her son's hands. Azark fell to the ground, aura disappearing, eyes shutting into a black sleep. He had been introduced to too much power for his small body to handle, too much knowledge for him to contain. Azark, just turning 10, had suddenly been introduced to the skill of an adept, seasoned, warrior, and the knowledge of a studied warlock.
please continue reading, it starts getting intresting now...
