Hanzo was seventeen at the time of his exile. He was a finely abled lad with a brown complexion, charred by scars and soot from his long days of travel. Dirt and small twigs were caught up in his fiery afro which had to constantly jerk the kinks out of. His boots were hardened and streaked with dirt and spats of dry blood. He wore a brown dragon leather jacket full of stains and deep tears from being exposed to the elements.

How he’d gotten here in the middle of nowhere after barely managing to survive the wild beasts that lived in these mountains and fed on humans like him was a peculiar thought.

It started in his village named Blackleaf where he grew up and spent a great deal of his time in a gang called the Landboys which comprised of him as the ringleader and a handful of friends.

Together they went about getting into fights with random people and other gangs who were actually legit criminals. One particularly dull noon the infamous military nation Ultimate Soldier came to Blackleaf to recruit gifted youngsters for a special program set into motion by order of the King of Dragma himself.

Ultimate Soldier was not easy to get into and was a rather costly investment for a person, however it appeared that this time, the program would allow candidates to enter without all of the usual mind numbing inhibitions. The friends were elated. Soldier was in itself a world of opportunity. It was a symbol of status, riches and power. The Landboys quickly seized the chance and boarded the armored trucks within the next couple of hours.

Oddly enough, Hanzo was suddenly absent during this time. Locked away by his mother’s protection she informed the soldiers that her son was unfit to become of them due to him being a treacherous vagrant who swore to assassinate the King, all for the sake of protecting him from the extravagant dangers that lie ahead.

Upon hearing this the soldiers grew alarmed and quickly rounded up the few candidates and left Blackleaf village.

Hanzo failed to make it.

With the damage his reputation took, he found himself at the crux of the village’s scrutiny, not because the claims of his plot against the king were true but because they simply didn’t like him.

They used other false accusations against him and made a collective agreement to boot him out of the village.

Hanzo didn’t need to wait for their word. He’d already left Blackleaf to pursue a new life as a wandering swordsman, hoping to find a master to cultivate his skills.

The thought of being on his own in the dangerous world excited him and he couldn’t wait to make a name for himself.

Things didn’t quite go as planned though.

Days of travelling after his escape from Blackleaf brought him to several towns on the outlier of the region. Things were troublesome. He met and talked with many instructors hoping that he would be able to enroll in a dojo but they did not seem very keen on accepting him, often sending the boy away with a few dumb coins to buy himself a treat as if he were some type of beggar. Eventually he gave up with these condescending oafs and continued his journey, catching free rides on the back of old vehicles making sure not to be seen in the rearview mirrors.

Gotta get to Vallhan’s. He thought ambitiously.

The truck raced on down the rocky road as the sun began to sink into the afternoon. Lush pine forests blurred past his peripheral as the wind roared in his ears. His brown dragon leather jacket, an old hand me down, flagged in the air, showing off his trusty sword rattling in the case.

Sooner than later, the truck arrived upon a large festival held on the outskirts of the town called Vallhan’s. The driver stopped the truck just a ways away from the cliffside where all the festivities were.

Lots of people were gathered at this festival. Hanzo knew that by sunset, the happening would look awesome once all the glowing lights came on.

Farther in the distance one could see the actual town embedded in the patchy hills cast in the warm sunlight. It was set more off to the right of the boisterous partying. On the left was a more deserted plain that lead into a rather mountainous region cast in shadows. Vallhan’s Valley. The entrance to Vallhan’s Valley was two peaks that were once said to be a single mountain that was cut in half by a mighty sword.

Residents of Vallhan named the two mountains Twinpeak and the rest beyond that was the valley where few survived the dangers that lie within.

Hanzo teetered along the side of the ledge looking wistfully into the valley. This is what he was here for.

Smirking to himself he turned his attention toward the festival up ahead and followed the road to the entrance, an arching purple neon sign that read a welcome.

The two men that drove their way here hadn’t even noticed the hitchhiker creeping behind them and went on doing their own thing as he separated himself and got lost in the roaming crowds.

He observed the rowdy families and hyperactive children prancing about with toy swords whacking each other in the face. The large fancy rides roared and rattled all around him, forcefully merging with the constant hubbub of voices.

The largest ride was the ferris wheel, turning itself quietly beneath the fair sky with a few fluffy white clouds pacing along.

The aroma of food invaded his nostrils and he remembered that he had hardly eaten lately.

Damn… He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit disoriented by all the activity.

His eye caught onto a small shop where a bunch of folks were gathered and sauntered on over to the booth and bought himself a small dragon beef gyro wrapped in foil.

With the super dense population running amok in the confines of the machine ridden festival, Hanzo felt it better suited to find a seat elsewhere and eat while still able to get a good look at what was going on.

A bit of challenged searching soon brought him to a small designated park near the rocky cliffside with some benches surrounding an intricately carved fountain. The wind stirred the youngster’s afro as he emerged from the crowds taking a fair bite out of his gyro.

He approached the wooden fence surrounding the small clearing and took in the expansive view, wondering if he’d really ought to go through Vallhan’s Valley.

Lots of forgotten treasures were said to be lying about the place and the main reason why few people ever returned from journeying through it was because they actually made it to the other side. The dangers were certain but the rewards were worth it.

There were plenty of other ways to get out of the region of course. Vallhans had a train station but that would cost money he didn’t have and if the law caught him train surfing he’d be arrested if not heavily fined.

He could fly a viper dragon to his destination but he didn’t own one and learning to pilot one could be difficult.

All in all, Vallhans Valley was the easiest way for him to get to Baveoma. The majority of the dangers were likely exaggerated to scare people but Hanzo had always been confident in his abilities to survive.

“Hey.” A voice pulled him out of his daydreaming. He turned to see a blonde girl in a black leathery outfit approaching with some friends. They were each armed with one or two blades of unique kinds.

“What are you doing over here all by your lonesome?” The blonde girl asked with a hint of flirtatiousness.

Oh boy…Hanzo thought as the other girls came moseying along. Can’t let a man mind his own business…

“Nothing special.” He answered wiping his mouth. “Taking in the view.”

“You from around here?”

“Blackleaf.”

The slick haired blondie with two silver daggers strapped to her thighs dabbed her lips and glanced at her cronies with playful eyes.

“Blackleaf, huh?” She turned back to the tough looking lad. “You’ve come a long way. What’s your name?”

“Hanzo…” he answered taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Well, my names Tasha. This is Arani and Mystic.” She pointed to the two girls who looked to be about the same age. Arani had dark hair tied in a ponytail and wore a white stylishly tattered shirt and light armor padding her chest and shoulders. Mystic was a shade lighter than Hanzo. Her eyes were icy blue and her hair was dyed a similar color.

Hanzo acknowledged their presence with a nod and went on staring into the valley despite the eyes glazing over him. Frankly, he found the sudden attention uncomfortable.

“Something tells me you plan on going into the valley.” Tasha smirked knowingly.

“I am.” The boy confirmed.

“Ooh.” Arani sang, “So are we.”

“I don’t think he wants to go with us.” Mystic smirked teasingly.

“Oh, hush.” Tasha leaned on the fence beside the young man. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea would it, Hanzo? But going in by yourself might be. Plus we need a strong guy like you to join our party. There’s strength in numbers y’know.”

Hanzo shrugged, still chewing and staring off like he could care less. “Thanks but I think I’m fine on my own.”

Tasha furrowed her brow and grinned. “Oh really?”

“Yup.”

Arani hid her smile. “That means he’s strong.” She whispered.

“Well, then I guess you’re well off aren’t you?” Tasha remarked.

Hanzo shrugged again. His aloofness was starting to bother her for some reason.

“So when do you plan on leaving?” She pressed.

Hanzo finished off the last of his meal and crumbled the foil up, tossing it into the trash bin.

Then he gripped the old wooden fence with seasoned fingers and vaulted over the edge of the cliff.

His ruddy boots hit the steep incline, spawning a cloud of dust as he went surfing way down.

The girls peered over and watched him go with mingling emotions of surprise and regret.

The young warrior tumbled into a roll as he hit the ground and bounded back to his feet.

He jogged onward at a light pace.

This really might be a bad idea. He considered, gazing into the tremendous valley ahead. But who cares.Besides, I’m not in the mood to join in on a gang of a bunch of girls. God knows what type of nonsense comes outta that.

As Hanzo neared Twinpeak, he marveled at its towering might and depth. It was as though he were in the presence of two giants.

A large log building on stilts stood nigh under the imposing halved mountain. Large, embroidered banners spilled over the balcony flapping in the dusty wind.

Hanzo darted up the rickety spiral staircase and stepped inside the shop, greeted by a jingle of bells as the door opened.

Despite the rough exterior, he found the shop to be rather pleasant and organized on the inside.

“Have you come to stay for a night?”

Asked the shopkeeper. He stood to the left behind a counter wearing a tattered hood and circular glasses.

Hanzo shook his head, approaching the heavily stocked aisles. He browsed about the store, taking his time examining a number of useful supplies for his journey.

There was very little in his pockets to buy most of what he wanted which was inevitably the weapons and armor on display but he sufficed with a few thick mana bars, a watch, a sharpener and a flat leather pack.

After purchasing the items, he returned outside, glancing toward the festival in the distance as he went downstairs.

I guess this is it.

He thought.

The breeze seemed to have picked up.

The boy appeared minuscule in comparison to the behemoth stretching ever upward as he began passage through the gaping mouth of the rocky valley.

The chiseled, incomplete ledges had the definition of wrinkled paper bags with lone, gnarly pines growing along the edges and through narrow rifts.

Old remnants of wooden structures had eroded over time, leaving behind rotten skeletons as ominous as the actual toppled skeletons that Hanzo discovered along the way through.

There were swords as well. Old ones, caked in rust. Seemed to give them character.

He approached one that caught his eye as it stood center of the barren opening.

It was a tough looking, double edged slayer sword with faded colors of gold and red. A bit of dedicated cleaning would restore this thing to its former glory.

Even in this condition, Hanzo knew he could definitely use it to defend himself if need be.

He grasped the weapon, each finger cautiously folding around the handle.

It was quite heavy, but this was strange because he hadn’t even tried to lift it up yet.

His fist tightened and the muscles in his arm seemed to contract on their own.

What the hell?

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he snatched his hand away.

It must have been spirit pressure. Whoever last owned the sword had been using it heavily.

Well, so much for that. Hanzo shuddered, hoping the strange energy in that weapon hadn’t affected him. Are all the blades here like this?

Curiously, he ventured further into the canyon, drawing his sword loose as he scaled the rocky inclines and passed through dark pine forests with abundant undergrowth.

There were large, muted cabins breathing trails of smoke through chimneys, characterized by many bizarre weapons and banners complete with dragon skulls hung on plaques above swinging doors.

No people were in sight.

He felt wary of such places as though he were trespassing.

Someone’s rifle or crossbow could be trained on him at a distance and one shot could pulverize him.

If it could hit him that is.

He was trained well enough to evade trajectories.

Plus, he was less likely to be attacked by other people. The wild beasts lurking the forests were what he needed to be concerned about.

There were none in sight so far as he could see.

Everything was rather silent, except the constant wind.

Beams of evening sunlight sank through the trees, glimmering in his brown eyes.

He sat down at another rocky ledge to rest his legs and looked over into a ravine, impressed by the view.

A deer caught his eye.

It was too far down for him to try at it and he didn’t have a bow and arrow. Perhaps he could make one.

Too much work. At least for the moment.

Glancing at his sword, he considered his blade throwing skills.

The animal stood on the slope, unsuspecting of the lad as he moved to a crouched position and raised his weapon.

He locked a trained eye onto his target and gaged his aim a few times before committing to a throw.

A loud whooshing sound suddenly petrified him.

He didn’t have time to turn.

The deer perked up in alarm and broke into a quick gallop just as a large dragon plunged through the trees and snatched it up with razor sharp claws piercing through the ribs.

The animal died instantly.

Hanzo backed away as the dragon’s leathery wings flapped, spawning strong gusts of wind.

The creature rose and glared at the astounded young warrior.

It breathed, unleashing a raging current of blue flames upon him.

He dived off the ledge like a dolphin and hit the ground rolling and tumbling furiously until he slammed into a big rock on the endless slope.

The impact knocked his breath out but his fighting spirit gave him enough reason to lift himself up and grip his sword, ready to shred the stubborn skin of that violent freak of nature.

Unfortunately, the dragon was already gone. The tall pines swayed back and forth shedding bristles and pine cones. Branches fell from the opening where it had escaped and dropped into the blue inferno below.

Hanzo’s heart pounded like a cannon.

The grip on his sword’s handle was tight enough to break a wrist.

He’d never been so ready to fight in his life. Convinced he could‘ve handled the powerful beast, the thought of being able to gut and sell the organs for a handsome price played over and over in his head.

Although it looked huge, it was nothing compared to the larger dragons.

Hanzo lowered his head with a defeated smirk and sheathed his sword, climbing the slope back to the ledge where the flames still burned.

There was something about this fire that kept it going strong, even by the time the sun had fallen below the horizon.

Hanzo was actually glad the creature shot at him. He wouldn’t have to start one himself.

Before it got too dark, he rummaged around for a few mushrooms and killed a few bumbling rabbits to cook over the blaze which he carefully guided into a contained circle using stones.

As he sat brooding over the fire, he thought deeply about things in his life.

The impending reality that he chose upon himself began to weigh on his shoulders.

Crossing the valley would get him to Baveoma for sure and if the officals had proof that he endured the dangerous trek, it would certainly look good on his resumé.

But still, he wondered if this was all worth it in the end. Surely it had to be.