The Giant with a feral appearance was known to many as the Mad Defender and to a lucky few as Stitches. A name given to him by his parents to their first born son. The mother was a seamstress and the father, a cobbler with a sense of humor. "He is gonna see so many stitches in his life, might as well name him as such" said he one drunken night which sealed poor Stitches fate. Stitches sighed as he thought of how things should have been. He should have taken over his mothers shop as the best tailor in town and lived happily with his wife. However, life gave him no respite from hardship. At the age of twenty-five, he already had one foot in the grave. The people of the nation of the Fallen Tree have short life spans, rarely ever reaching beyond the 50's. The oldest person Stitches had ever met was still in his early 60's when he passed on due to old age. Old as he was, he was still wasting his life paying for his sins. By the king's orders, he was to defend the land from invaders and spirit beasts that roam and may bring ruin to rural villages.

Such was the reason that had brought him to the remote town that number only a few hundred people. He had tracked down a beast known as the Misty Leopard. A beast weighing up two tons and whose shamanic powers allowed it to turn invisible. It was a swift and deadly assassin who traveled alone by nature. It would prove too much for any one man but Stitches was the one exception. He had hunted their kind before and knew their tricks. He set off after the beast certain that he would not fall to its cleverness. . .

Stitches had in fact fallen to their cleverness. One fight and three Misty Leopard corpses later, Stitches could barely hold his ground. He had been lured into a trap by the beast he had been tracking. It was the first time he had ever seen a solitary hunter cooperate with others to lay a trap for a stronger foe. When he was upon the beast, he saw five shadows attack him; a common illusionary tactic used by the beast to confuse its adversary. What he did not account for was that two other Misty Leopards lay hiding behind the illusions. Only brute strength and thick armor saved the day. As Stitches examined the bodies, he could see that his prey was young, all three still in adolescence. He surmised that the three were of the same litter, explaining the camaraderie in an otherwise violently solitary creature.

Injured and tired after such a heavy battle, Stitches decided put away his weapons and start the healing process. He placed his weapons back inside the black block that would disintegrate any object into itself to be carried. It was a one of a kind artifact that would make it incredibly convenient to carry things if not for the fact that the objects weight didn't disappear. The black block carried all the things Stitches owned due to the fact that he could never stop patrolling the borders of his home. He picked up the incredibly dense block, chained it to his still injured back, and continued walking as he concentrated his power to heal his wounds. Under his armor, he was covered in scars from countless battles. He was no stranger to injury. He continued to channel his shamanic power to his wounds as he continued his patrol. This was until he took a step too far in the wrong direction.

The scenery before him changed twice before he could even process what had just transpired. He went from seeing a thick forest to a dark city to facing the sky of said city when all his belongings suddenly became far heavier than they previously were. He found himself laying on the ground, slowly being crushed under his armor and chains. It was only luck that the block didn't crush him under its immense weight. His wounds were no longer being healed by his shamanic power, as though it had disappeared entirely. Under the night sky in an alley way, the Mad Defender was being crushed under his own equipment and was slowly succumbing to his wounds.

" So this is how I die. Ok." Stitches came to slow realization of his situation. He had heard stories of men being exiled to strange lands via foul rituals or vengeful gods. "The gods wish to punish me by not even allowing me to die in my homeland. Are my sins so great that I can't even take my final rest besides her? So be it." He placed one hand on the block that was now under him and began to concentrate. His armor and the chains that surrounded him disappeared into the block, leaving him in only a bloody shirt and trousers. He looked a step away from death, bleeding in tattered rags. With what little strength he had left, he called upon the earth to bury the block deep so that none may ever find it. "That's done, time to choose my death bed. I might as well see what forsaken land I have been exiled by the heavens."

Stitches, the greatest fighter in the continent of Aureian, began his slow crawl to the street in front of the alley way. He could hear a great many people passing along with the sound of machines he had never seen. Even more surprising was the variety of beings that roamed the city. They were like humans, but different. Some were small and thick, while others tall and hairy like beasts. "I've lost so much blood, I can't see very clearly. Are those people grey? What are those loud metal things? I need a closer look. I thought things here would be a little more ruin-y? What a strange land this is. Well, I won't be here for long anyway." Stitches had finally reached the sidewalk near the street and was now being noticed by a few people passing by. They all either averted their gaze or stared in disgust, however, none would stop to help. He sat up, leaning on the wall of a random storefront as his blood slowly stained the floor around him. Stitches closed his eyes, ready for death.

" What the fuck is going on here? Boy at least ask for help if you're bleeding out in the streets like a dog. Or you too proud for begging? Get off it and give me your hand." Johnny, a local ragged drunk extended his hand to the bleeding stranger currently trying to get intimate with a grave. The stranger opened his eyes and replied "OOOO aaaa jjj". "Ah, you're, you're one of them foreigners. Well, yelling for help sounds about the same everywhere so come on then." Johnny again offered his hand. The stranger would push it away and Johnny would offer it again. This went on until the stranger had apparently become too weak to deny him. A few people would slow down to witness the spectacle of a drunk and a man speaking nonsense argue on the sidewalk. "I'm taking you whether you like it or not, I ain't letting you die like this. Boy stop the nonsense." Johnny proceeded to drag a man twice his weight across several streets and into an old tavern. At the sight of this, everyone looked away and went hurriedly on their way. They didn't know what trouble the bleeding stranger had gotten into but this wasn't a town where heroes prospered. It was best to keep to oneself after all. You can't go around paying for someone else's mistakes.