Render Iceblade – History
Many tales are told of the origin of the warrior bearing Iceblade. Some are only legend; many have at least some truth. Almost none are completely accurate. This is one version of the tale. All of this must be discovered IC to be known IC, and as even Render only knows part of it, don't count on knowing his story just because you read this, or even if you read his mind.
Once there was the warrior named Den Rin-Doras, the son of a town blacksmith. He was only eight years old when the war started, far too young to fight. But when the enemy army invaded and slaughtered his whole town, including his father and mother, that young boy, the sole survivor, picked up the sword with a vigor befitting one twice his age. Taking the blade that had been passed down through his family's generations, he set out after the enemy army. He came to their camp at night, and though he was yet so young, he fought so bravely that they did not at first kill him, but instead allowed him to join them to save his life. For a year, he trained in the art of combat surrounded by his enemies. All that while, the war continued, with little effect. Den was put on the front lines, in the hopes that he would fall first, but even against his own people he showed no mercy, in order that he might survive. Finally, when he was promoted to second-in-command of his division, he decided the time was right to get his revenge. With night as his cover, he took his father's sword and slew the general and his guard first before going on to set fire to the whole camp. None of his division survived.
After that, he walked for miles, finally reaching what had been his home. Now there was nothing but scorched earth and ruins. There he buried the armor he had been given by the enemy. For days more, he made his way along the dusty streets until he reached the capital city, where the main army was encamped in preparation for a seige. He walked into their midst and raised aloft the helmet of the slain enemy general and threw it to the ground. All he could say through parched and thirsty lips was his name before collapsing to the ground.
After hearing of the slaughter of one of their most powerful divisions in a single night by one warrior, the enemy army withdrew, and Den's country rejoiced. The following spring, the king promoted Den, now ten years of age, to commander of the entire army. For the next five years, Den led his troops into battle against the country that had attacked and been defeated, winning glory on the battlefield for his king and country, despite his age. The king seemed to consider Den almost as one of his sons, even above the king's own son, who was a year older than Den. The king's son was not a great warrior, despite his father's wishes. In this way, a great rivalry grew between Den and the prince. There was no open fighting, but the two did not often remain in the same room for long periods of time together.
By the time Den Rin-Doras had reached sixteen years of age, he was already grown into an imposing figure, respected by the men and adored by the women, especially the young ones. It so happened that Den became smitten with a young girl of fifteen whose father owned a farm some miles outside the capital city. It also happened that the prince, Den's rival, had similar affections for the same girl. But Den was afraid to reveal his love to the girl, and so it was that the prince was first to declare his wish to wed her. The girl's father gladly consented, for it was not uncommon for princes of that country to marry girls of lower status than themselves. But the girl somehow knew that Den loved her, and she loved him back. So on the night before she was to be wed, she ran away from her home in disguise and sought out the young warrior with whom she truly wished to be united. But Den Rin-Doras was far away, for as an extra precaution the prince had persuaded his father, the king, to send the army on another attack against the enemy nation across the sea. Heartbroken, the girl stole aboard a supply ship bound for that land. When she arrived, she found an army, but not Den Rin-Doras. The enemy army had been awaiting the ship, and when it sailed into port, they attacked.
Den was some miles away, having arrived earlier with the army by another route. While he and the troops were camped not far from where they had landed, they saw what appeared to be the enemy army approaching, so they made ready for war. But instead of attacking, the enemy sent forward a lone rider, carrying a bundle in his arms. Den rode out to meet the messenger, and as he did, he saw that the bundle was a dress, the very one in which he last remembered seeing his love, some days before he left for war. The messenger told Den that she and the rest of the crew of the supply ship had been killed, but that before she died, the young girl had shouted his name, as if she was hoping that he would rescue her. Then the messenger and the army rode away, leaving Den Rin-Doras as defeated as if he had been mortally wounded. Heartbroken, he left the army in charge of one of his officers and returned home.
Den Rin-Doras set foot once again upon his native shores, broken and ashamed. Worse, a month later word reached him that his army had been decimated in battle without him to lead them. The prince, angered over the loss of his intended bride, demanded of his father that Den be executed, or at least banished, but the king refused. But the prince would not take his father's answer. He drew his sword and was about to attack Den when the king held out his hand and ordered his son to stop. The king then revealed that Den Rin-Doras was in fact the king's own son, though he had been brought up as the son of a blacksmith. For an oracle had told the king that Den was destined to bring strife to the king's house, were he to be raised there. So the king had sent Den, his son, to live with another, and in return, the man who Den had called father had given his own son to be raised as the prince. When the prince learned that he was merely the son of a peasant, he screamed both at his father and Den, and he lunged toward Den with his sword. Den raised his own sword in defense, but his opponent had another idea. The one who had thought himself a prince threw himself at Den, falling upon his rival's sword. Seeing the blood his weapon had spilled, Den Rin-Doras fled from the palace.
Although the prince's murder had not been Den's fault, nevertheless the young warrior ran. The king sent messengers to seek out his son, but none returned. Burdened with guilt, Den left his own country and, disguised, wandered in foreign lands across the narrow sea that separated his country, an island, from the wider lands to the north. He journeyed among the high mountains of the west, going ever northwards. There he sought out a new life among those who lived there, burying his past as best he could.
Although his supposed father had been a blacksmith, Den had not been old enough to learn the trade before the war, and thus he was forced to earn a living by whatever means possible, taking on whatever employment he could find. One night, as he was walking along a city street, a year or two later, a young woman came running towards him, pursued by two large men wielding axes. The woman implored Den to help her, but he refused to become involved. He had taken part in enough fighting for his liking, so he walked away. The two men grabbed the young woman and just before she was out of earshot, she yelled his name, and he recognized her voice. It was his love. How he did not recognize her he did not know. He pursued, but could find neither her nor her captors. Enraged, he fled once again to the mountains, seeking solitude.
It happened that he came upon a cave made entirely of ice, high in the mountains where snow fell all year long. There, at the back of the cave, upon a white stone slab covered in writing he could not understand, was a sword. He fell to his knees and declared that here he would expiate himself by taking his own life. As he had no other weapon, he grabbed the sword that lay on the stone. Immediately upon touching the sword, however, a power took hold of him and he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he found he was lying still in the cave made of ice. How long he had been asleep he could not tell. Nor could he remember what had driven him there in the first place, nor even where he was. His own name had become dim to him, and he could not recall it. He looked at the sword. Upon the hilt, in letters wrought of silver, were letters that he thought he could read, as if they had come from the land he might have called home. But they were worn and dimmed with the passage of time, and parts of them were blurred out. What was left spelled the name he would bear thereafter, Render.
He descended from the mountains and traveled south, for no clear reason. Wherever he went, however, people seemed to avoid him, though he did not know why. Eventually, he came to a port city in the south, where he took a ship across a small sea to an island, part of the same country. He travelled aimlessly, avoiding people where he could, until he reached a grassy plain. At one place, he saw what looked like scorch marks, as if there had been a great fire there at one time. Not far off was a small mound. Something compelled him to explore further. Finding a time-worn shovel nearby, he dug up the mound, where he found, to his surprise, the apparel of a warrior: a chainmail shirt, wrought of close-fit iron rings, and black plate armor. He also found a pair of leather gloves which had silver circles set on them, Apparently, time had taken its toll on them, for while one glove had four circles on it, the other only had three, as if one had fallen off and become lost. They seemed small to him, as if they had been worn previously by a young boy. He set them on the ground and pondered this for a while. He pondered so long, focusing so intently upon them with his eyes, that they began to trick him into thinking that the armor was larger than it really was. He went over to it and picked it up, just to prove his eyes wrong. When he did so, however, he found that indeed the armor pieces seemed larger than they had been, large enough to fit him. So he put them on and found that they suited him. Then he continued on his way.
He could not explain the finding of the armor, nor why he was avoided by all he met. He took to wearing a mask over his face, feeling that he must appear a monster to be shunned. So Render left that country and sought other places where he might find rest, acceptance, or a reminder of his forgotten past...