Six brothers stand together to face the evil empire. Only one would end up living in order for the tale to become legend. That one who survived had a child, a boy, named Rothulin. Soon there would be a need for heroes again, but the time wasn't until Rothulin's father was long dead, a horrible dream that once was.
Rothulin would end up having to grow up without knowing who or what, maybe even why, he was who he was. The only thing that could console him was his imagination. Dreaming up enemies to kill and dames to save.
When Rothulin was at the age of working, about thirteen, he was appointed the jeweler's apprentice. Rothulin wanted to be the mage's apprentice, it sounded a lot cooler. But unfortunately his father made it very clear that Rothulin become a jeweler. He said, "In time you'll come to thank me." But to Rothulin that's what all the elders said.
By the time Rothulin was able to be enlisted in the King's militia, eighteen, he signed himself up. Under orders of his father--a once honored and cherished hero--Rothulin was not to go to war. It made Rothulin angry that his father would take such control of his life. That night he wished his father's death, and that night it happened.
An intruder came inside the walls and poisoned him while he slept. It was too late to stop the poison from spreading as the guards chased the intruder after having caught him over Rothulin's father's body. Rothulin instantly regretted the words he had used to kill his father.
The power of words. It's funny how such little things could cause so much trouble. The mage's apprentice was having a hard time doing anything with his own words however. But there was something about Rothulin that made words glow and crackle with incendiary fire.
The six brothers of old, as they were called, used words to cast evil from the lands. Each one had their own specific set of words they could manipulate to their whim. That is why they were so powerful together, but so very weak apart. As soon as the brothers destroyed the great evil, the great evil destroyed them.
In order to defeat the great evil they had to meld their minds into one, Rothulin's father. It was at that point that they were at their weakest. As Rothulin's father chanted the words of destruction, the great evil merged with the flow and traveled into his mind. His goal was to corrupt or destroy--maybe even both--the minds of the other five brothers before the chant was done.
It was up to Rothulin's father to defend his defenseless brothers all the while continuing the chant. The strain was too much to bear, so he had a decision to make. He could finish the chant and destroy the great evil or he could stop it and save his brothers. He made the choice for the greater good and the great evil was destroyed.
Rothulin's father was able to see his brothers' faces one last time before they were consumed by the corruption and taint of the great evil. Their minds were lost and their bodies lay at the center of the great evil's lair. Rothulin's father escaped as soon as he could to prevent the lair from ever being found again.
Rothulin's father left out much of the tale. The rest was filled in with speculation and assumptions. Eventually the tale grew and spread like a fire to neighboring villages and then castles. The tale that was told portrayed Rothulin's father as heroic and brave. It depicted the epic struggle between him and the great evil and the sorrow that befell his brothers.
Later there was a tale of Rothulin's father abandoning his brothers and letting them die. It was purely assumptions of course but he took it to heart and it hurt him dearly. He never was the same after that night with the great evil. Losing his brothers was like losing a part of himself. He was sullen until that night when he found her.
She was magnificent. Some would say that she was the reason that dumpy little town was visited, and that she was the only thing that gave the title beautiful to the town. She wasn't tall but she wasn't short either. Her brown hair was always down, down to her sensuous waist. No matter the circumstances her hair was always so beautifully neat. Even the few strands that straggled out of place would bring any man to float in the air as if Aunt Margarette had made her famous pie.
Yes, she was something. And when she looked you in the eyes with her blue hazel eyes it just made you feel at ease. Like all your problems melted away in that gaze. No matter what you couldn't find her without a specific pendant around her neck. It was a silver circle with a pure white marble in the center.
The day they met sent a shiver up every man's spine within a mile, which told them that there was a disturbance in their beloved town. Neither of them cared because Rothulin's father was finally at peace and there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her.
The day that Rothulin was born she died. Rothulin's father grew cold once more for losing the love of his life. From that day he vowed he wouldn't let anything happen to their beautiful son. But it wouldn't be easy.
After a few months, Rothulin's father was starting to notice that Rothulin was beginning to have a strange spark about him. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, it was there. It wasn't long before the spark turned into a crackle and that crackle turned into a boom. That's when the village was destroyed, and that's when Rothulin and his father left.
At the town that Rothulin would call home, his father kept Rothulin's power levels in check with his own. He made sure Rothulin didn't have any powers of his own or even an inkling that he had any. It wore him down and left him with nothing. No compassion, no energy, no desire. Something had to be done. That's when he got Rothulin the apprenticeship with the jeweler. It was to keep him from learning about his spark with the mage's apprenticeship and it would also allow him to take some of that built up energy and apply it to jewel crafting. It helped ease the tension on his father a little bit, but not enough to be able to survive. He knew at this rate that he would die and if he died the mage would find the cause. It was simply a matter of time before he did.
When Rothulin became of age his father knew there was nothing more he could teach him. He sent out hints around the neighboring villages of his presence in town, remembering quite well of the resent and scorn a lot of men had for him. It wasn't long before he began to hear rumors of a group of men gathering money to pay an assassin. Good.
The night was set. Unfortunately it wasn't on the best grounds to leave his son, and he felt terrible about it. He didn't want to leave his son at all, especially not with hate in his heart. But he had no choice on the matter.
With the last moments before bed, Rothulin's father sent a bird off with a message that read: