Tales of Valor and Life

Korvindar's Champion

He was on his knees, one hand holding his hammer that was planted in the ground, the other touching the dirt below him. His breath came in shallow gasps, each exhale sending small clouds of dust swirling into the air. Slowly, he released the hammer and reached up to remove his helmet. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could truly see. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, blood, and grass, a heady mix that seemed to sharpen his senses. Unable to stop himself, he began to smile, the corners of his eyes cracking with genuine joy. The world was beautiful! The sparks that crossed his vision, the fallen leaves drifting from the sky, and the clear blue sky above were so incredibly real.

How had he been so blind to this before? When have colors been so vibrant? For so long, he had merely been existing, spoiled by this view all his life, yet now, on death's door, he was reliving that first moment of clarity all over again. Every leaf, every blade of grass, every cloud seemed to sing with life.

With a righteous determination growing within him, the man gripped his hammer and made his way onto his feet once more. His muscles ached, but a newfound strength coursed through his veins. Just then, a flash of light distracted him. Before him stood an enormous armored figure, bathed in ethereal light. The scene figure in front of him was so majestic that no bard could ever hope to put its splendor into words. Yet to him, the figure appeared to be thrice the size of an average man, his armor intricately crafted, some parts for decoration and other parts for impenetrable practicality. It held within both of its hands a large warhammer, one side flat, the other possessing a vicious spike. On the other hand, a large round shield was held, adorned with numerous runes and engravings.

Every little detail of this individual practically screamed warrior at him. The figure simply looked down at him, until suddenly, it rolled the shield further up its arm, freeing its hand. Using its now freed hand, it slowly placed a hand onto the man's shoulder. The man's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with awe, one foot on the ground and his other leg bent, making him unconsciously kneel before the figure.

When the large armored gauntlet reached his hair, the ethereal light, originally floating aimlessly in random directions, now rocketed straight towards his body. The mysterious figure itself began to meld into the man. A voice suddenly boomed in his head, "Accept my blessing. My. Champion." Its voice faded away, replaced by a surge of power radiating through his body.

The man stood up suddenly, his mind snapping back to reality. Hefting his hammer with surprisingly little difficulty, he charged forward into the fray of battle, ready to strike down his foes. His hammer felt different in his grip, heavier yet more balanced. Glancing down, he realized it had changed to the one the figure had held. Almost immediately, his mind was filled with knowledge on how to wield it and the ancient power it held. Almost unwillingly, his body gave into the newfound muscle memory and his voice unwittingly let out a bloodcurdling battle cry, "For Korvindar!"

His eyes sparked aflame with golden light, and to the more observant on the battlefield, it almost seemed as if an avatar of an absolutely enormous man had overtaken his own. His hammer slammed into the enemy, each blow crashing with the force of a mountain. His arms tensed with every movement, yet he felt no fatigue. He was unshakeable, unbeatable. No foe could dodge or block his strikes. With every strike, oaths to the mysterious "Korvindar" spilled from his lips, his eyes appearing both distant and focused.

Each swing of his hammer sent shockwaves through the battlefield, the earth trembling beneath his feet. Enemies fell before him, their weapons shattering against the sheer force of his blows. He moved like a whirlwind, a force of nature, unstoppable in his divine fury. The power of Korvindar surged through him, guiding his strikes, fueling his resolve. And as he fought, he knew that he was not alone. The spirit of the ancient warrior was with him, their wills intertwined, their destinies bound together.

For the first time, he truly understood his purpose. He was a champion, a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness. And with every enemy he felled, with every cry of victory, he reaffirmed his vow. He would fight. He would endure. He would prevail. For Korvindar.