Fishing takes your mind off of many things, including the constant teases by the children although they did not bother him. He wanted to get out in the fresh air, and be alone for a while, the town grew larger and larger everyday and he didn’t really know what the future had in store. He just knew that one day, when his son was old enough, he would take him fishing, and he would never teach him the ways of a blade. The only thing war leads to, is more war. After about four hours of casting and rebaiting, and casting again, he had collected a fair amount of fish to sell at market. He put all the fish he caught into his net, a net he made himself a long time ago, terribly made, but it hadn’t broke yet. He heaved the fishfilled net over his shoulder and headed back towards town. He reached town within an hour. He lugged the net through town to the market walking past children playing and having fun and parents yelling at them and telling them to be careful. He smiled and continued on towards the butcher. He sold the net of fish for a decent amount and went to his home, which was on the edge of the town, also located behind the barracks for the towns army. He acted in his downtime as a trainer for new recruits and a drillmaster for keeping their skills attuned. He also was a dominant force in the town hall, his word was often held with the highest regards, mainly because everyone feared him, and what he used to do. Many said he would never escape the warriors life, he could not die peacefully. Other more imaginative ones, such as the kids, said he was cursed and would never die unless it was in battle with a worthy foe. He thought little of what others thought of him, he only cared for one thing, his family.

He reached his home and he grabbed his farming tools and headed out the Western road, leading towards the farms. He reached the Western gate when he heard, “PA, PA, WAIT.” he turned to see his son, barely over six rushing towards him. He dropped his tools and hoisted him up and asked, “What might you be doing running around?” His son answered, “I want to go to the fields with you.” He replied, “I can’t do that, rules are rules. Where is your mother? You need to be getting back to her, don’t want to make her mad now do you?” His son answered, “No sir.” He put his son down and he said, “Now hurry off, before you get us both in trouble.” His son laughed and ran off towards the center of town and he couldn’t help but smile. He picked up his tools and headed towards the fields which were pretty far out from the city. He reached the fields in a little under two hours and he went to work. He tilled and plowed the fields along with ten others, however he was the last working, he made sure the animals were fed and all the equipment was accounted for and locked up. He was ready to head home when he noticed smoke in the direction of the town, and shortly after another. A house was on fire, that was his first thought. In the back of his mind a voice was screaming, not a fire, an attack. He grabbed his tools and rushed back to the town, when he was within earshot he heard screams echo through the woods and he dropped his tools, except his hammer and a sickle. He reached the Western gates to a scene of chaos, houses burned and bodies littered the streets. He picked his way through the town for any sign of attackers hoping it wasn’t who he thought it was. He found no sign of the attackers except tracks from the beasts they rode in on. He rushed to his home, which was razed and nearly burned to the ground. He made his way through the burning wreck to a large iron chest. He lugged the chest out of the burning house and opened it, revealing a sword and a shield along with some armour. He emptied the chest, putting the armour on and once again picking up a sword and shield. He went to the center of the town, still hearing screams and a little commotion coming from the Eastern gate.

He reached the center of town and looked towards the Eastern gate and saw where the commotion was coming from. To his worst nightmare the city was being attacked by Orcs. He sprinted towards them, wanting only to put up a fight and try to get them to leave. The Orcs noticed his advance and they charged towards him. He dispatched the few Orcs that rushed towards him with ease and he faced now many Orcs, about thirty of them. He slowly made his way through them, but not unharmed. He took several slashes and several hits from the Orcs but made it through them all. As he stumbled after dealing with the group of Orcs he was met by a single Orc, taller and much wiser than the other's. The Orc snarled something at him but he did not understand, nor did he care. He looked around and saw only death and smelled only the burning of house and flesh. In his looking he saw his family, being lined up along with others from the city. He looked back to the Orc, who was now walking towards those lined up. The Orc grabbed the first one in line and threw them onto the ground, he snarled something else at him and then he drove the sword through the person. This made him charge forward sword and shield raised. The Orc pulled the sword out of the lifeless body and walked towards him.

He swung his sword at the Orc, the Orc blocked it and swung back at him which he blocked with his shield. After a while the clashing filled the city, and drew on a large crowd of Orcs. He disengaged the Orc and looked around at the crowd that gathered and he knew, they were not going to live. He looked at his wife and son, to which the Orc noticed and pointed towards them and snarled something. Orcs that had scaled the wall and were on the top of the Eastern wall drew bows and shot arrows towards him, several of them hitting him and dropping him to one knee. He stood, grunting and pushing through the pain. Another volley of arrows were showered down on him and he was once again brought down to one knee. Volley after volley of arrows were loosed on him, and once he was brought down to both knees and his sight was dodging in and out the Orc walked over to his family. He dropped down to all fours, arrows sticking out of him in just about everywhere. He took one last look at his family, and the Orcs who had knives pressed to their throats. He looked at the larger Orc and he memorized what he looked like. He started to fall forward, and the light started to leave his eyes. As he fell as did his family, the Orc laughed all the while. He landed on the ground and all he felt was cold, the cold embrace of black.

He came to, no longer lying on his face but rather on his back on a comfortable bed set. He tried to move but a hand stayed his movement and a calming voice said, “Rest, your wounds are many, you will need it.” He layed back down and he faltered off into another sleep. When he awoke it was near middaye by where the sun was in the sky by what he could tell. He was in the same bed set but he had enough strength to sit up and look around. He looked down at his body which was littered with wounds, slashes and countless arrow wounds. He touched them and winced as they were still tender. He tried to stand when he heard the voice again, “That may not be a good idea, you are still not fully healed, neither healed enough to stand on your own.” He saw out of the shadows a man in a blindingly white robe appeared. The stranger introduced himself, “I am Votaar the Wandering, and I am a wizard. I followed the smoke that rose from your village, I knew Orcs were moving in the area, but I did not realize how many. There were many Orc tribes, and the one that attacked you city, is the most dangerous. I arrived too late to help fight them off but I did find you, barely clinging to life, almost dead, littered with arrow wounds. I have heard tales of a great warrior from that village, I believe it is you.” The man replied, “That was me, I no longer am, I am a farmer.” Votaar replied, “That is not what I’ve heard be said by the denizens of the forest who watched your battle with the Orcs.” The man replied, “If there were those watching why did they not help, why did they stand by idly and watch my people die?” The wizard said, “Because they could not, rabbits and little birds are not warriors, but they see and hear a lot. The tales I’ve been told would surprise many.” The man asked, “You can speak to animals?” Votaar laughed and said, “Of course! I am a wizard after all. That is why you are not dead. I will help you get back to your feet and you may thank me, you may hate me, but there is a reason I saw that smoke, I had a bad feeling, and I happened to look over to see the smoke. I believe in fate warrior, and I believe it led me to you for a reason. Now get some rest and build your strength, and forget thoughts of revenge, your death will be the only thing you get out of it.” The warrior replied, “I will take with them as many as I can then, I will not go down without a fight.”

The wizard chuckled and said, “Do not think yourself as invincible, those Orcs are not to be trifled with, least not with your current condition. If you want revenge, build an army, sharpen your sword and harden your shield. You cannot win alone.” The man replied, “They killed my family, my friends, and my people, I...will….have…..vengeance.” The man stood up after saying this, staggering but eventually gaining his balance. He walked to where his sword, shield, and armour were. He picked them up and he set off out of the camp. The wizard yelled after him, “Do you even know where you are? Where you’re going?” The man yelled back, “No, but I do know that mountain…..” He paused and then said, “I do not recognize this side of it so I must be near my home.” The wizard came out of the camp after him and said, “There are many mountains in this land, and you are nowhere near what was your home. Your home is on the other side of the land.” The man kept walking through the forest with the wizard following and telling him to wait. The man saw a clearing ahead and thought he was near the fields but when he went into the open he looked out on a city, a grand city. Far larger than any city he had ever seen and filled with people he seldom saw, elves. He turned to the wizard and asked with a solemn tone, “My home is gone is it not? There is nothing for me to go back to?” The wizard said, “The only thing that lies there for you, is pain and anger. I brought you here to get rested and increase your swordsmanship to brave the lands West of here.” The man said, “I must go East though, I must have vengeance.” The wizard said, “You will in good time, you must get prepared for it first.”

The man spent many months at this elven city, a city named Lith' Oreanas. He told no one his name because the more he thought about it, he could not remember it. He was called, in the tales about him, Wrecker, because nothing could stand in his way, so that's what he chose to be called, the legend instead of who he actually was which was forgotten to him. He trained with the elven blademasters for most of the time he spent there, slowly becoming better, stronger, and eventually defeating them in duels. Once he outshone the masters they offered him their swords in respect that he had learned all he could from them. The leader of the city, a legendary elvish war hero, Kareon, had commended his accomplishments and offered him permanent stay in the city. Wrecker said, “Your offer is most kind but I cannot, my quest now must continue, I am ready to start on the road of my revenge, I thank you for helping me, If I pass through again, may it be with an army on my back, a smile on my face, and victory in the air.” Kareon responded, “You are always welcome here Wrecker, may you have the best of luck in your path, stay weary for the lands to the East are filled with horrors each worse than the next. Fare thee well warrior.” They bowed to each other, Kareon walked off to get back to his duties and Wrecker looked at down the road leading west out of Lith' Oreanas. He was interrupted by someone behind him who asked, “Need a lift?” He turned to see Votaar on horseback with another horse in tow. Wrecker smiled and said, “That would be much appreciated Votaar. How goes it?” Votaar replied, “Oh you know, wizard things here, stopping wars there, adventuring awaits. I will journey with you for a while until we reach the dwarven city of Karnidine, which we will begin searching for able bodied warriors to help along with our quest. I have not been up that way in much time but I will be a welcome sight, and an always welcome one. Now, mount up and let’s be off.” Wrecker mounted the horse and got comfortable and both he and Votaar headed off down the western road towards the Dwarves realm. It took them several days but they eventually reached the borders of the Elvish lands and entered the Dwarvish land. Votaar made a comment as they passed through the ruins of a walled town, ancient, “This was a dwarven city once, one of their most prominent, they were at war with the elves, who eventually won their capital, this city, many years ago. This battle marked the lands each control, and was started by both sides not agreeing on how the land was to be used. The dwarves wanted to mine the mountain over yonder that you mistook for the one by your home. The elves who only partially controlled the are at the time said no, and well, war happened. They called it the Fifty Years War, which is funny as it only lasted ten but it felt like fifty as I was told by my father, who was a wizard before me, a Wandering as well. Wandering has been in my family since the wizard order was first created at the beginning of this world, eons and eons ago. I am around the seven-hundredth wandering wizard, and I hope I can keep the line going, with a son.”

Wrecker asked, “You passed down the power of magic through blood?” Votaar answered, “No actually. Magic is like all other things, it is learned. I learned when my father was nearing the end of his life, I became a wandering wizard at only eleven when he passed it on to me. The other's of my order have different traditions but we number nine, at all times, no more no less.” Wrecker asked, “What about other's that learn magic, We had a few elves who came through our town who were apprenticing to be healers?” Votaar answered, “They are separate from our order. We hold allegiance to no one and nothing except this world. We are the protectors of this world, only nine of us that is. That is why we listen to the animals and we hear trees singing in the forest, we are one with the world, and should it fall, so shall we. Anyone can learn magic, but we nine are holders of a purer, stronger magic. We use it for good, and some use it for terrible, terrible things. Especially Necromancers.” Wrecker asked, “What do they do that is so terrible?” Votaar answered, “They raise the dead from their slumber to force them to commit horid acts such as murder, they are the lowest and most desperate of wizard wannabes.” Wrecker asked, “Can you control elements, like fire and water?” Votaar answered, “Not me personally no. I only wield healing powers and minor things. I can start fires using magic and make bad water drinkable but I am stronger in healing than all else. In fact the only one better than me at healing is the leader of our order, who has been there for a very long time, since around the four-hundredth wandering wizard for a timeframe. He is, Boric the Wise, and he is the one who taught our current order all we know, and he continues to. He is only replaced when one from the order attains a pure enough soul and earns the right to use the Wise name. He actually was a Wandering wizard for a while until he gained that power, so I am his kin, but he does not favor any over another, he is called Wise for a reason.”

They reached the Dwarven city of Karnidine within another several days. Votaar rode in front of Wrecker and motioned for him to stop as they approached the main gate. Wrecker stopped and Votaar rode on forward slowly, stopping when a dwarf yelled in dwarvish at him. Wrecker could not understand Dwarvish, so he could not tell what was going on. Votaar clearly knowing, and being very fluent in dwarvish spoke with the guard for a short time when the guard exclaimed, “Groza!” the gate opened and Votaar motioned for Wrecker to ride up next to him. Wrecker asked Votaar, “What did he say?” Votaar answered, “They remember me, and welcome as always, let us continue.” Wrecker followed Votaar, they eventually reached a small hut in which they would be staying. Wrecker got off the horse which he tied to a post outside the house, Votaar did the same. Votaar and Wrecker were soon met by a dwarf clad in heavy armour, and a very intricate golden crown, Wrecker assumed it was their king and bowed. The dwarf looked at him, then looked towards Votaar said something and then burst out laughing and came up to Wrecker and hugged him, nearly crushing him. Votaar laughed and said more things to the dwarf who in fact was the King. The King and Votaar exchanged words and the King eventually walked off, Votaar motioned to Wrecker who was checking his spine wasn’t broken which loosened another laugh from Votaar. Wrecker followed Votaar and the dwarf to a large tavern, the king motioned towards it and walked away towards the center of the city. Votaar said, “This is where we begin to recruit those to our cause, if you’re wondering why dwarves don’t speak common tongue it is because they have not been exposed to it, man is still new to this land compared to the dwarves and elves. That was King Barik by the way, he is a jolly fellow, perhaps to much at times though as you found out earlier.”

They entered the tavern which was called something in dwarvish which Wrecker did not know, he felt as though he should know, he wanted to learn, he would ask Votaar after they found worthy candidates to help in their quest. Wrecker went to a corner table and let Votaar talk his way around and try to convince some to join their cause when King Barik walked in and made his way over to Wrecker. Barik motioned for him to stay sitting and he did, Barik pulled up a chair and asked in common tongue, “What brings you and the wizard here?” Wrecker began, “We have an Orc problem, and we need blades to fix it.” Barik said, “Orcs hmm? We are not warmongers here….” He was interrupted by several loud crashes behind him. Both Barik and Wrecker looked to see several dwarves in a drunken brawl. Wrecker asked, “You sure they follow the same rules?” Barik said, “We only fight amongst ourselves and the Elves, we do not touch the Orcs. Their numbers in this region far outweigh ours. Our ancestors were forced to abandon our capitol because of the Orcs, a very bloody war in which the elves watched our people suffer. We only found solace in the mountains, and in this place. I do not wish to bore you about mine people and our history history, where do you come from human?” Wrecker said, “I come from a village in the East which is, or was, one of the largest settlements we had outside of our capitol on the coast. Orcs attacked us, I was the only survivor thanks to the wizard, I saw my family die, and I would march on the Orcs alone if the wizard wasn’t keeping me at heel. I will do this, with or without your help. You must ask yourself, will I do what the Elves did to my people, will I sit by and not help. You have the power to help me start a retaliation, something the Orcs will not see coming. We can drive them from your lands, and you can regain the lands your kin were forced from…...So what say you?” Barik stood up, called for Votaar and when the wizard got over to the table he said, “I will give you some of mine finest warriors, the Ironclad. I will not forsake you as the Elves forsook mine people. Come Wrecker, Votaar, I will bring you to them.”

Barik led them to his keep, taking them deeper than any stranger had been before, right to where his elite guard, the Ironclad stood guard. As he approached the Ironclad saluted and yelled something in Dwarven. Barik saluted back and repeated the same words. Barik barked a few more orders and several of the Ironclad marched off. Votaar said to Wrecker, “They are going to fetch their strongest warrior. Be ready, he can be brutish very often and he is very rude to anyone not a Dwarf, moreso to Orcs which works in our favour.” As the Ironclad soldiers returned there was the sound of a third, heavier, dwarf behind them. Barik started towards him, smiling and laughing with arms wide, the two Ironclads leading the third parted and went back to their posts. Barik and the Ironclad embraced and Votaar mentioned to Wrecker, “They are brothers.” It took Barik a while before getting to what Wrecker and Votaar needed to hear. Barik said, “I am entrusting mine greatest warrior, and mine own brother, to the both of you. Do not anger him or you may not like what he does to you. Gornik, meet Votaar the Wandering and Wrecker. Votaar and Wrecker, meet Gornik the Ironclad Elite Commander.” Votaar said something in Dwarven and Wrecker said after he did, “It will be an honor to fight alongside you.” Gornik looked at Votaar and Wrecker, then to Barik. Barik said something in Dwarvish, Gornik smiled laughed and embraced both Wrecker and Votaar pulling them in close and very hard. As Barik bid them farewell on their journey, mixed with threats about Gornik getting killed and a little deal he had made with him many years back. Votaar said goodbye as did Wrecker who bowed, not really knowing Dwarven customs. Barik walked in close and bear hugged Wrecker, and he did the same with Votaar and Gornik again. The three of them left the Dwarven city, heading towards an Elven city near where the Dwarves previous capitol had been, Votaar had an idea. Barik bid them safe travels, yelling from the gate, and they set off down the long winding road.