Legend of Knorr the Conqueror

Knorr was born the avatar of an unknown god (Death). He was so powerful, that he tore his way out of his mothers womb killing her. Upon his left and right arm were two gods marks. The left arm had a red mark that appeared as flame, and on the right was a blue mark that resembled a snow flake. The midwife was so afraid of the god-child that as he slept, she wrapped him in a blanket and brought him to the deepest part of the forest, where she left the child to die. Knorr was found by a giant shebear who lay down and suckled the infant Knorr. As the child fed, a man came upon the scene. The she-bear jumped up and stood over the baby. Knorr reached up with one arm and grabbed the shebears neck. With one mighty tug he snapped the bears neck. The man, a blacksmith by trade, could see the mark of the gods upon the boy. He was a wise old man, and understood instantly what he had to do. He fashioned a litter and brought the child home. The blacksmiths wife rushed out to see the child, but he warned his wife not to touch the boy. Of course, she did not listen and as she bent down to kiss the child, the baby raised his arms and hit the woman in the face. So great the childs strength was that her head snapped back with such force it broke her spine and she fell over dead. Quickly did the baby grow, and in little more than a decade, the child had achieved fullest manhood. Standing over seven feet tall, Knorr towered over all men. His shoulders were broad and his strength was equal to a giants. During their time together, the blacksmith had fashioned a pair of swords for his foster child to take with him when he inevitably left to seek his fortune in the world. On the day that Knorr was to leave, the blacksmith gave the swords to Knorr, along with this advice, Your godly powers set you apart from other beings. Men will attempt to manipulate you for their own ends, but because they will be jealous of your power, when you have done as they wish they will not love you. They will either fear you for your power or hate you because of it. Your power will be a prison of loneliness from which you can not escape. Your anger and bitterness will grow until you become utterly consumed by it, finally becoming a true monster. There is an alternative, however. If appears that you only wield these powers due to possessing items of magic, then men will accept you. They will assume that without those items you are the same as them. Men are foolish, and will easily believe anything that they think makes them equal to other men. Take these blades I have forged for you. Channel your powers through these blades, so that you may then live among men, yet still access your divine gifts. Knorr took the blades and asked how he could repay the blacksmith, leaning in to hug the old man. Just dont touch me, the blacksmith said jokingly. And think on what I have said. Knorr smiled and said So be it, you shall never feel my touch and with that, he left the blacksmith never to return. Knorr travelled out into the world, meeting people and battling evil creatures everywhere he went, and he became a living legend. Honor and Glory were heaped upon the name of Knorr. Kings and Princes would beg the mighty warrior for assistance, and offered him all manner of treasures. In time Knorr claimed a kingdom of his own. The kingdom was small, and beset on all sides with adversaries, but Knorr was not deterred. Through conquest, diplomacy & sheer force of presence all of his neighbors save one were brought to his side. The lands of Klom in the south remained a constant adversary. When the summer solstice and the full moon were one, Knorr took his blades to the top of a mountain, and willed his power be split between the blades. The sword in his left hand glowed red hot as his power flowed into it. Into this blade, Knorr focused all his hot anger, and the heat of it caused the blade burst into flame. The blade began to warp and wave, growing longer and taking on the shape of a flickering flame. This blade he named Flametalon. The sword in his right hand grew cold as his power flowed into it. The cold bitterness of his soul filled the blade, which lengthened to a needle tip, while the blade changed to resemble an icicle. Frostclaw he named this blade.

Flametalon

Frostclaw