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[h1]Dawn of Excelsium[/h1][h2]Scion of War[/h2]
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"I am a god!" Bellowed the young man. Ages, with the world being what it was, were difficult to measure. "And only a god can defeat me!" He bellowed again as three wood-armed warriors of the Excelsium tribe lay before him. Each was bruised and submitted to him. The young man had the bright smile of pure hubris on his face. "Is there anyone else?"

Khathen watched the kid with Miras, Warden of Mortality, beside him from the sidelines. "He is growing cocky." Khathen said. Miras, the giant humanoid, did not respond. "At this rate he'll actually believe he's invincible." Miras still said nothing. "Then, when reality decides otherwise, he will be in for a nasty surprise."

"He is a Scion of Excelsium." Miras finally said. Khathen did not believe it was meant to protect the young man. It was a reminder to him. This kid was destined to lead Excelsium one day, by divine right. Khathen grit his teeth and moved.

"Is there no one else!?" Yelled the kid before he was hit from the side with a thrown piece of firewood. He stumbled as Khathen, equipped with nothing but a barely blunted wooden spear, approached. The kid slammed his club on the makeshift shield. "A challen-"

His taunt was interrupted by the sudden explosive attack of Khathen, who began his relentless assault. The kid stumbled back, immediately frightened. This was not how the other warriors fought. Khathen jabbed, moved aside to dodge, swept at his feet, and feinted attacks at his face. The kid tried to respond in kind. He lunged with his own club at Khathen, who gracefully dodged and weaved around the clumsy strikes.

Fear was overtaking the kid. Nothing he was doing was working on the seasoned ranger of the tribe. It was as if he were fighting a spirit. He moved too fast and struck too hard. Khathen, seeing the fear and crumbling of ego, decided to finish it. He feinted an attack at the shield. With the back of his spear, he hooked the kid's heel and dropped him to the ground. The point of the spear was at his throat in a second.

"You can't do that!" Hector, the kid, yelled. Then he turned to look at Miras on the side. "I am the Scion!" He yelled, then he felt a stinging pain on his cheek. Khathen had grazed him. It was just enough to make Hector bleed.

"And if I wanted right now, I could end that destiny with one move." Khathen hissed. "You are arrogant. The warriors do not fight you for real because of your status. They are afraid. I am not. One day very soon you will bear the weight of this tribe on your shoulders, and you are not ready."

[center]~[/center]

"We knew this would happen." One of the elders in the council said. Miras stood in the middle of the half-circle. He had given his prophecy. Jealous of Excelsium's might and wealth in food other tribes would band together and attack. Soon.

The eyes turned towards Hector, standing on the side. He was no longer a kid. "We never fought a battle like this before." There had been skirmishes. Greedy families who, instead of joining the great tribe, tried to steal instead. Hector had not been merciful to most of them. This was different. Miras' prophecy spoke of several families united under some warlord. Excelsium had never fought anything like that.

"Well, can you win?" Asked one of the elders.

"I need more people." Hector replied. The council erupted into a heated debate. The matter would not be settled here. Hector sighed and left. 

He joined Khathen outside the beautiful, if not somewhat overdesigned, wooden council chambers. The earth had gone more silent still and the stone monster on the horizon had finally, fully, gone to sleep. Still, Excelsium kept building in the old ways.

"Nothing?" Asked a much older Khathen.

"By the time the old men have made a decision, the battle will already have been won or lost." Hector said.

Khathen nodded. "Miras once told me that those blessed with greatness will someday be tested, to see if they're worthy of it."

"You think this is my test?" Asked Hector.

"It is not. It's more real. If you fail, Hector, then Excelsium is over. In truth, it might be over either way. After the battle, so many of us might be wounded that the other tribes around might pick us clean like vultures." Khathen looked over the horizon. The fields were stretching far out now. "One problem at a time, I suppose."

[center]~[/center]

The time had come. They came from the woods. First, only a handful. Then tens of people. Then over a hundred. They were armed similarly to the warriors of Excelsium, with hides, slings, and sharpened spears.

Hector's heart was beating in his throat. He was nervous. Khathen had forged him into the best warrior he could be. Was it enough? The numbers weren't equal. The invaders were more numerous. Excelsium's men and women looked well fed and strong, but the enemy had a sort of hungry, feral sense to them. They hadn't eaten for a while, probably, and only a few hundred men stood between them and a full granary.

It all started with yelling. The invaders came charging from the woods up the hillside. "Stand your ground!" Hector bellowed. The fire-hardened spears were lowered. Hundreds of steps shook the earth like in the days of old. The slingers from behind loosed their first volley. A few of the enemy stumbled or fell. Others bled but kept going. They were almost enraged by the sense of blood.

The two sides did not gracefully come together. It was utter carnage. Every bit of planning was gone with the wind. Men yelled, pushed, clawed, and bit at each other. The whole front turned into a mire of skirmishes and duels in no time. Khathen was dragged into a fight against two of the invaders, while Hector was supporting three of his.

He jabbed with his spear, wounding the leg of an invader who dropped. He tapped his men on the shoulders. A sign he taught them, then left. They could handle the others. Hector pulled back and overlooked the skirmish. Some spots needed his help. He gritted his teeth. When he was back, he would throw himself onto the temple grounds and beg whatever god would listen to give him a blessing to be in more places than one.

Then he saw it. Like a moth saw a flame. A large figure. Not so inhumanily large as Meris, but still a massive man. He moved through his own men like a normal man moved through a wheatfield. He was kin to Hector, in a metaphysical sense. Within him burned the same little spark that Hector possessed. The world slowed down. Suddenly, he understood the battle. The little skirmishes didn't matter. This was the real battle. Fire against fire, to see which would engulf which.

Hector snapped out of the moment when he saw someone else standing in the way of the giant invader. Khathen. "No!" Hector yelled. With club and shield in hand he rushed over. Khathen would die. Hector knew it in his heart. The man was a formidable warrior, a great mentor, a wise advisor, and the best scout of the tribe. None of it would matter. Khathen would die if he fought the giant. Hector pushed through the skirmishes, dropping several enemies as he barreled through a shield-locked battle. His club swung wildly and claimed the life of an invader swiftly.

It didn't matter. Hector was just too late. Khathen was pierced by his own spear, which was stolen by the giant and slammed through him. The old man stumbled backwards and turned to see Hector. "I'm sorry kid. This... might... be yours." He managed to say and then fell backwards. Somewhere in the village, looking anxiously at the battle, Khathen's husband let out a harrowing cry.

The scion of Excelsium snapped, roared, and charged at the giant. He slammed into the large shape of the man. Their duel overshadowed the entire battle in an instant. Both roared at each other not like men but like feral lions locked in a battle for dominance. Hector tried to keep up the pressure, but the giant man was formidable. He swung a giant stone hammer around him. Hector dodged and weaved around him, until he was just a second too late. The hammer slammed into his shield, breaking half of it and sending a sharp jolt through Hector's arm.

This could not be a battle of pure brawn, Hector thought. The giant had an advantage. Hector kept moving. The world was slow again. His heart was beating faster. There was no easy way to fight this man. Panic began to set in. What could he do? What could he do!? The duel passed the fallen Khathen. The spear was still stuck within his body and stood upright.

Right then something happened that only divinity could sense. Hector's spark, his inner fire that separated him from everyone else, had been dimming ever since Khathen died. Then it sparked to life, engulfing his heart.

Hector dropped his shield, rolled away, put all the momentum he had into an upwards swing with his club. The brute grabbed the club in his hands. Hector let him, as he backed off for a second and took Khathen's spear. The duel turned into something else. Hector dipped and moved faster than ever. He knew how the lumbering man fought now. He waited, patiently but still as carefully as he could. With a few failed jabs, he kept the giant interested. Then it came. The brute stepped forward, Hector feinted. The brute tried to grab the spear like before. Hector moved the butt of his spear around the man's heel and pulled.

Sashen fell to the ground. That had happened since he was a kid. It was a surprise. The world stood almost still now. For the longest time, he could feel that heat in his chest but it never burst into a roaring flame like the wandering prophet had said it would. Now he was defeated. In a second or two he'd be dead. Resigned to his fate he dropped his head to the side. There he was. The wandering prophet. A man even bigger than himself. He was looking form the village, surrounded by the people there. "Snake!" He bellowed. "You promised us fo-"

His final words were silenced by a spear through the throat. Hector had won. The fire inside of him erupted into a victorious fire. The invaders watched their chief die. Some dropped their weapons. Others fought on, desperately. Others still fled. Miras, standing amid the cheering villagers, offered Hector nothing more than a small nod.

[center]~[/center]

The remaining invaders were bound and corralled. The sun was setting. "What now, lord?" Asked one of Hector's fighters. The man had killed three. There was vengeance in the air. Many people who had lost their daughters, sons, husbands and wives to the battle wanted the invaders to die.

Hector approached the prisoners. "You came here seeking our food." He said. "Seeking our wealth. You didn't get it through force. Now you are here. Your fate is in my hand. How many families did you butcher and plunder from?" The prisoners averted their eyes. "How many are dead because of you?" Hector let the words hang in the air for a bit.

"Join us." He then continued. The prisoners looked up. They were confused. "You came here looking to survive and thought you would have to fight for it. Not so. This is Excelsium! Bow your head to its majesty, vow to uphold her and uplift her and you will never want for food again!"

That night a long and arduous process of conversion began. One by one the priests of Excelsis moved amid the prisoners. They heard their stories, heard their deeds, and moved on. Many willingly threw themselves on their knees and praised Excelsium and its patron god. Hector kept a close eye. There would be rotten apples amongst the converted. People who would want more than what their due was. Their punishment would be  hard. Still, the majority would bring their own little fragment of greatness to Excelsium. Some already did as they herded their animals out of the woods. Cows and bulls lumbered out. A fair few of them were slaughtered for the feast.

There was one more grim job for Hector, Scion of Excelsium, to do. At midnight, a handful of invading warriors knelt down before him. He raised his club and smashed each of their head in one fell swoop. They preferred death over assimilation.

[hider=summary][b]Pure Mortal Post[/b]
We are introduced to Hector as a youngling, over confident. He is taught a lesson.

Years later he is in command of the armed forces of Excelsium. Another roving tribe is approaching, made up from many absorbed tribes of hungry people. They fight. The leaders end up fighting too, but only after Hector’s mentor is slain.

The barbarian warchief is killed by Hector, whose inner spark explodes into a fire.

We finish with Hector giving mercy and clemency to the attackers. They can join Excelsium and partake in its agricultural wealth.
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