The Shroud's Origin 1/19

Artagh would sit calmly in his seat as the fiery aura surrounded him, melting away the snow around him in a cozy barrier that seemed not to stop the peasant in the slightest from holding his hands against the nearby fire greedily. "Well, guess we' goin'ta nee' to star' a the beginnin'o the story if ye' be goin'ta do this bit."

Puffing his corn cob pipe of gnomish herbs with a yawn, he would gaze at the center of the flame with a slow nod, thinking back to his days as a common peasant but one year prior. "Firs' I had'ta train when I joined the legion. I cannae barely handle a sword, Siro used'ta beat me in'ta the dir' like I was a wee babe. Made me realize I was nae goin'ta beat magickers wit' jus' the strength I had. I had'ta train."

Standing up, Artagh would to a sudden flip that denied the weight of the swordsman's armor as he seemed to suddenly turn upside down, pushing himself up into the air directly parallel to the nearby snowy ground purely by the effort of his pinky. "I had to break me limits. So I kept on trainin' an' trainin'. Tied boulders to me legs an' swam through the river til' I could swim in the ocean. Cutdown tree's an' practiced me' swordplay wit' twigs, then branches, then logs, then pine trees. Finally, I' coul' carry the biggest ones, a whole ton. Tha's when I broke me firs' limiter. I coul' push me'self pas' me muscles limi' fer'a time wit'out destroyin' me body."

Cracking his neck, the fiery aura of swordsman would seem to almost companion with the nearby fire, providing a cheery light and warmth for the whole campsite during the cold night in the winterlands. "Bu' the was nae' enoug'. I was decent, bu' nae' strong. Amelie helped me a bi', girl' figh's like a hurricane, bu' she' helped me figure it out. I dunnae any idea abou' magic. Tha' learned stuff, tha's go' nothin'ta do wit' me. Hell, I cannae even read, nae write, I damn sure ain' ever goin inside a library if I can help it. I realized all tha' trainin' ha' expanded me own reserves'a untapped potential. Bu' wit'out spells'er common trainin', I coul' nae use even a basic spell righ'."

The burning aura around Artagh seemed to heighten for a moment as he seemed to push his strength further, nodding steadily as he unslung his great sword from his back. "I needed to train with my blade as well. So I started pickin' figh's wit' the biggest demons I coul' fine, an' killin' them dead. I fough' smalls ones, fat ones, big ones, an' even the huge one in the cave. Siro an' Ikilled two'a them ourselves. Was a fine evenin'. Tha's when I realized. I dunnae need spells, I'm nae a wizard. I'm a goddamn swordsman."

The aura would rise to its height, the campfire ablazed with released, unrefined magical energy, emanating off of Artagh's form like a warm ray of sunlight on a summer's day. "So I trained until I broke me limits again. Tha's when I realized how'ta tap in'ta all tha' magic in'me, an' make it me strength. Forces ye' muscles into overdrive, shoves ye past yer limit's limits, puts you in a state of absolute strength tha' grows infinitely the closer ye' get to bein' takin' down, fer' tha' is when the fire burns brightest. Tha's wha' I call this. It's me second broken limiter. The fire'a the summer sun."
(Artaghh)