Itzzaboy
King ForumStalker
Name: Itzza
Nickname/Alias: Blademaster
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 70kg
Hair: Medium length blonde hair
Eyes: Green
Skin: Average white
Identifying Marks: His two blade weapons, slightly curved blades that reside under the arm attached to the arm with brace-like supports that grip the forearm.
Appearance: Appears to be an average, slightly thin boy with longish blonde hair. Wears orange and white clothing.
Strengths: Skilled in combat, ability to scout and wander without detection, a low magical ability.
Weaknesses and fears: Unskilled in the magical arts, anger can mask the negatives of his actions.
Religion and cults: None, he believes that ones own ability to strive and succeed is the only way to win in life, plus religion takes up time when he could be training.
Profession: None currently, dreams of becoming a kings royal guard.
Part 1: Prologue
Itzza struck at the wooden dummy again, and again, and again, slicing it into a splintering wreckage on the floor. Breathing heavily, he moved towards the only chair in the room that wasn't broken and dropped into it, only to get up ten seconds later to take a drink from the nearby water basin, splashing water onto his face every so often.
Nobody said training to be a kings personal guard would be easy, but that's fine, Itzza thought, wiping his face with a rag as he did so, he relished a challenge.
Itzza glanced out of the window, the sun was up. Itzza had trained through the night again and lost track of time, an orange band creeping across the horizon, shining out over the top of the treeline. Itzza took one last giant gulp of water from the basic, sheathed his weapons into his leather holders and slumped onto the pile of straw and cloth he called his bed, willing himself to dream of the day he became a kings guard.
Part 2: Isolation
Itzza rose from his "bed" at around an hour before midday, strolling towards the small pantry in the corner of his living quarters for some bread.
Itzza's home was basically a medium sized barn attached to the side of a small farmhouse. The previous owner had been a sustainance farmer who rarely left his home except for perhaps once a fortnight to travel to the market a few days journey away. The property was located atop a small hill surrounded by acres of pine forest. It was a quiet and lonely place, perfect for training solitarily.
The young Itzza didn't originally choose to move away from his family. He once lived peacefully in the small village he grew up in with his parents. As an only child, they raised Itzza with all the love and attention he could possibly need, they werent rich but there was enough income to leave a peaceful and cosy life. However, when Itzza was 8, there was an incident involving him and a bully in which the bully ended up with severe burns to the face and chest area. The bully exclaimed that Itzza had hit him with a fireball of some kind, which was mostly true. Itzza had accidently used magic after getting angry with said bully, not that he actually knew how to, it was a complete accident.
The village elders, however, did not see it this way. The elders of Itzza's village were very old fashioned about their opinions of magic and those who use and control it. Even with the emergences of great wizards such as Magus Bellon, Ari Torke and professor Madyson, they still stuck to their beliefs that all magic users were evil and vile beings that should be exterminated for the good and safety of everyone else. Itzza was chased from town that evening, only surviving the hate mob by hiding in some forested hills until the party of angry villagers gave up looking for him. The first thing Itzza did the next morning was head to Karuk-thol, the great dwarven city, and request to the smiths that they create him weapons personalised to him. After watching him in combat for some hours, the smiths and tinkerers retreated to their craftrooms and forges, and later emerged with two of the finest weapons Itzza had ever seen.
Shining golden blades attached to handles so that the blade curves under the forearm, one for each arm, that allowed Itzza to maintain the balance and form he had built up while giving him the deadliness of a blade without the hulking heaviness which brings the end to many great warriors. As payment, Itzza gave the dwarves all his money and his one remaining personal item, a small diamond pendant with gold viens pulsing around the outside like small molten rivers, a gift from his mother on the day he was born.
Nine years later, and Itzza had nearly completed his training, the splintered corpses of wooden combat dummies littering the floor of the barn Itzza used as a combat hall. He was now well versed in the ways of combat, but to realise his dream he needed somewhere he could prove his abilities...
Part 3:
Diary Entry 1, Day 1:
I thought I would write a diary to keep track of things going on in my life, so I can review them in future, and to help keep me sane.
A lot has happened, a lot. Since I set off on my journies, I settled down and founded the town of New Valkyria, in reference to my former home that threw me out. I now have a great group of followers, but now we must move, for the corruption is coming.
We have found an ancient settlement of my ancestors to the far north of this world we are moving too, embedded deep into a place known as Mt. Snowstorm. There we will revive the great community of both ancient and New Valkyria and rise stronger than ever!
Diary Entry 2, Day 6:
I'm horrifically disappointed with myself. While out gathering important information in the town of Stormhold, I was caught not only once, but twice! I must be a lot less stealthy than what I once was as a child. However, that isnt what is really bothering me, before I was caught the second time, while intelligence gathering, Deadpress and the Protarians arrived in the Stormhold town hall, throwing their weight and armour around like they owned the place, this angered me a lot. How could they feel so pleased with themselves squaring up to unarmed opponents? In my rage I leapt at Deadpress from behind and tried to dissuade the Protarians. I should have seen it coming, a swift movement and the bandits sword sliced through my arm. A quick spell and I had both arms intact, but its more the amateur way I was simply turned over by such filth that will leave me enraged for the next few days.
Another thing, Sir kk was specially distraught by the nights events. I offered him a pilgrimage to our new town sight, so he can clear his mind and hopefully overthrow the corruption within him. he initially refused but soon saw light, I just hope he can weather both the darkness and the blizzards first...
Diary Entry 3, Day 21:
I remember the stories that my grandfather told me, about Mt. Snowstorm and its deathly atmosphere, how it grips and mans soul and shreds it until you are a wreck upon the icy floor. I wasn't prepared for what I experienced today however, the former home of the guardians is a towering pillar of rock with tunnels within, spiralling to the summit. My grandfather also told me that a tower exists upon the summit, and that it serves a purpose far greater than any of us can percieve, I tried to enter, but the sheer chill that escapes the large stone doorway froze me to the pathway, trapped with icy fear. I plan to travel up the mountain and find the tower, so I may put my curiosity at ease, and also to overcome my shortcoming, my fear of this mountain.
Nickname/Alias: Blademaster
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 70kg
Hair: Medium length blonde hair
Eyes: Green
Skin: Average white
Identifying Marks: His two blade weapons, slightly curved blades that reside under the arm attached to the arm with brace-like supports that grip the forearm.
Appearance: Appears to be an average, slightly thin boy with longish blonde hair. Wears orange and white clothing.
Strengths: Skilled in combat, ability to scout and wander without detection, a low magical ability.
Weaknesses and fears: Unskilled in the magical arts, anger can mask the negatives of his actions.
Religion and cults: None, he believes that ones own ability to strive and succeed is the only way to win in life, plus religion takes up time when he could be training.
Profession: None currently, dreams of becoming a kings royal guard.
Part 1: Prologue
Itzza struck at the wooden dummy again, and again, and again, slicing it into a splintering wreckage on the floor. Breathing heavily, he moved towards the only chair in the room that wasn't broken and dropped into it, only to get up ten seconds later to take a drink from the nearby water basin, splashing water onto his face every so often.
Nobody said training to be a kings personal guard would be easy, but that's fine, Itzza thought, wiping his face with a rag as he did so, he relished a challenge.
Itzza glanced out of the window, the sun was up. Itzza had trained through the night again and lost track of time, an orange band creeping across the horizon, shining out over the top of the treeline. Itzza took one last giant gulp of water from the basic, sheathed his weapons into his leather holders and slumped onto the pile of straw and cloth he called his bed, willing himself to dream of the day he became a kings guard.
Part 2: Isolation
Itzza rose from his "bed" at around an hour before midday, strolling towards the small pantry in the corner of his living quarters for some bread.
Itzza's home was basically a medium sized barn attached to the side of a small farmhouse. The previous owner had been a sustainance farmer who rarely left his home except for perhaps once a fortnight to travel to the market a few days journey away. The property was located atop a small hill surrounded by acres of pine forest. It was a quiet and lonely place, perfect for training solitarily.
The young Itzza didn't originally choose to move away from his family. He once lived peacefully in the small village he grew up in with his parents. As an only child, they raised Itzza with all the love and attention he could possibly need, they werent rich but there was enough income to leave a peaceful and cosy life. However, when Itzza was 8, there was an incident involving him and a bully in which the bully ended up with severe burns to the face and chest area. The bully exclaimed that Itzza had hit him with a fireball of some kind, which was mostly true. Itzza had accidently used magic after getting angry with said bully, not that he actually knew how to, it was a complete accident.
The village elders, however, did not see it this way. The elders of Itzza's village were very old fashioned about their opinions of magic and those who use and control it. Even with the emergences of great wizards such as Magus Bellon, Ari Torke and professor Madyson, they still stuck to their beliefs that all magic users were evil and vile beings that should be exterminated for the good and safety of everyone else. Itzza was chased from town that evening, only surviving the hate mob by hiding in some forested hills until the party of angry villagers gave up looking for him. The first thing Itzza did the next morning was head to Karuk-thol, the great dwarven city, and request to the smiths that they create him weapons personalised to him. After watching him in combat for some hours, the smiths and tinkerers retreated to their craftrooms and forges, and later emerged with two of the finest weapons Itzza had ever seen.
Shining golden blades attached to handles so that the blade curves under the forearm, one for each arm, that allowed Itzza to maintain the balance and form he had built up while giving him the deadliness of a blade without the hulking heaviness which brings the end to many great warriors. As payment, Itzza gave the dwarves all his money and his one remaining personal item, a small diamond pendant with gold viens pulsing around the outside like small molten rivers, a gift from his mother on the day he was born.
Nine years later, and Itzza had nearly completed his training, the splintered corpses of wooden combat dummies littering the floor of the barn Itzza used as a combat hall. He was now well versed in the ways of combat, but to realise his dream he needed somewhere he could prove his abilities...
Part 3:
Diary Entry 1, Day 1:
I thought I would write a diary to keep track of things going on in my life, so I can review them in future, and to help keep me sane.
A lot has happened, a lot. Since I set off on my journies, I settled down and founded the town of New Valkyria, in reference to my former home that threw me out. I now have a great group of followers, but now we must move, for the corruption is coming.
We have found an ancient settlement of my ancestors to the far north of this world we are moving too, embedded deep into a place known as Mt. Snowstorm. There we will revive the great community of both ancient and New Valkyria and rise stronger than ever!
Diary Entry 2, Day 6:
I'm horrifically disappointed with myself. While out gathering important information in the town of Stormhold, I was caught not only once, but twice! I must be a lot less stealthy than what I once was as a child. However, that isnt what is really bothering me, before I was caught the second time, while intelligence gathering, Deadpress and the Protarians arrived in the Stormhold town hall, throwing their weight and armour around like they owned the place, this angered me a lot. How could they feel so pleased with themselves squaring up to unarmed opponents? In my rage I leapt at Deadpress from behind and tried to dissuade the Protarians. I should have seen it coming, a swift movement and the bandits sword sliced through my arm. A quick spell and I had both arms intact, but its more the amateur way I was simply turned over by such filth that will leave me enraged for the next few days.
Another thing, Sir kk was specially distraught by the nights events. I offered him a pilgrimage to our new town sight, so he can clear his mind and hopefully overthrow the corruption within him. he initially refused but soon saw light, I just hope he can weather both the darkness and the blizzards first...
Diary Entry 3, Day 21:
I remember the stories that my grandfather told me, about Mt. Snowstorm and its deathly atmosphere, how it grips and mans soul and shreds it until you are a wreck upon the icy floor. I wasn't prepared for what I experienced today however, the former home of the guardians is a towering pillar of rock with tunnels within, spiralling to the summit. My grandfather also told me that a tower exists upon the summit, and that it serves a purpose far greater than any of us can percieve, I tried to enter, but the sheer chill that escapes the large stone doorway froze me to the pathway, trapped with icy fear. I plan to travel up the mountain and find the tower, so I may put my curiosity at ease, and also to overcome my shortcoming, my fear of this mountain.
I like it! 
now.... 
