[For added understanding I have inserted something I had to pry out of Isaac once he was drunk, even then it was an effort. But from what I could I have attempted to write it the way he would have. For those of you who are unhappy to read of the physical and mental abuse of a child, please skip over this.

Isaac's recollection from his past, Eighteen years before current events, Isaac age Nine, two months before he and his mother were kidnapped by the Greenskin menace, two years before his Father's disappearance.

I had just finished my first hunt, a wild Dire Boar dragging behind me, I crossed the woods, heading towards the Endyarr Estate, the tall perimeter wall in the distance. The carved sleek stones were already in sight. Rina had hunted three of these boars by the time I had hunted my first, she had one behind her too. She smiled, congratulating me on the hunt. I admit I felt jealous. Father had a favourite. She had all the best weapons and armour she could have, here I was in furs with only a spear with a shoddy head, one I had to make myself. She had a steel sword, pieces of full plate armour, and chainmail. Magic affinity is far beyond mine. She was even dragging the boar-like it was nothing while I struggled. She reached the great copper gate before I did, the gate almost closed again by the time I arrived, but the constructs - [Artificial creatures typically made of stone, commonly referred to as golems or dolls, constructs can be any shape or size so long as they have power. Ancient Constructs are still running to this day and are much stronger than any construct we could make in current times - as of this period-.] - opened the gate wide at my return, the complex mechanisms of the gate whirring and puffing. I still had a while to go until I reached the house, but now I could look at the garden as I walked. The grand gardens of the Endyarr Estate were beautiful beyond words. All of the vibrant colours, the flowers, the smells, the bees and butterflies that fluttered around, the small animals that resided in this paradise with us. The rabbits, frogs, hedgehogs even the fish that lived in the various ponds. Everything was perfect.

I was near the house, Rina had already entered and Father - Michael Endyarr - was congratulating her for a good hunt. From that moment, seeing Father hug and smile for Rina, I was full of anticipation, happiness and Hope for praise. His scarred bearded face looked so kind. He wore a formal but practical light armour, black of course, his favourite colour. His outfit was cut off on his left arm, right after his stump ended and the metal began. Even back then his white hair had hints of grey, he was nearly two hundred after all. A seasoned warrior with over a century of experience in hunting.

"Well done, Darling" said my Father, beaming with pride, turning to me his gaze was softer than that with Rina. But only for a moment. His soft features and wide grin turned dark. "What did you do?" he asked, getting closer to the boar, analysing every little detail. Cautiously I responded "I used Magic, Father" the happiness and pride leaving my body, "And what did I tell you to do?" Father asked sternly. I looked at my sister, covered with injuries and mud, then back at myself, nearly perfectly clean. I glanced at my sister again, a worried look on her face. Father clicked his fingers, a call for attention to him, "Look at me, not Rina. What did I tell you?" he repeated, "To kill the-" he cut me off before I could finish "Skewer, to skewer the boar. No Magic. That's what I said." he had gotten closer to me, so close to the point I backed away. He backed me up against the wall. "You stupid little shit" he clasped his augment arm - [I asked Isaac how Michael lost his arm, he told me he lost it when the group of SpellSwords he was with abandoned him to die in the face of an undead army. Michael only survived by the skin of his teeth and that was due to Isaac's mother, Isaac told me that it was their first meeting, a SpellSword of less than twenty saving one well beyond a century old.] - around my neck "Useless" he snapped as he threw me across the room, I looked to my sister for help only to see her watching with fear. Father stood over me "You don't appreciate what I teach you?" He kicked me in the side, flinging me into a wall, a vase fell from a shelf and smashed on the floor, and the flowers and water that were in it spread across the wooden floor of the house. Tears swelled in my eyes as Father stood over me again, taking out something from his spatial dimension. He cast a shadow over me, blocking me from the Lamps mounted on the walls "You want to be a blacksmith? Abandon your duties as a SpellSword?" my Father continued, something I had told my mother, that I didn't want to kill things all my life. That I wanted to travel, discover and create. He must have beat it out of her. He had brought out some sort of flexible wood, it was that he chose to hit me with.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

After he decided he had enough, he turned to Rina, who would return her face to usual when he turned to her, trying not to show any emotion at all "Take him, strap him to a tree out of sight of the path, when your mother returns, cut him down." he commanded, Rina reluctantly nodded. Father walked out, into his study, I never saw him again that day. I knew she couldn't go against him, she was sobbing as she strapped me to the tree, constantly apologising and asking for forgiveness. I spent the night in the cold. But, when I thought I would die, I had a visitor. The snow falling became heavier, and hypothermia began to set in in my hands and my face, I had stopped crying, and the tears that fell earlier had frozen. That's when I saw her, Raven hair that contrasted heavily with the white snow all around. She saw me, strapped to the tree and approached, a dire wolf following her, my scarlet eyes locked with her crimson ones. She smiled softly at me, and without saying a word she cut me down and pulled me close to her as her dire wolf kept us warm, when I next awoke she was gone, I was left shivering on the ground, woken by my sister frantically apologising and pulling me on a wooden cart towards the Estate.

I was more docile and obedient after that. But the beatings continued until my Father was happy with my results, more brutal, more blood, more gore. Fight to strike fear in others. Break their minds with your weaponised resentment, rip them apart and return with their remains. Make them fear your name. That's what it is to be a SpellSword, to be Endyarr. You must fight with barely contained fury, and anger for the world around you, the worse your treatment the better you fight. I fought my first bandit group without any help at thirteen, I disembowelled the first, hanging the other with the previous intestines. Opting to fight the last in a duel, shallow cuts covered his body until he fell from blood loss, at which point I began to make him suffocate, shoving handfuls of snow, dirt and rocks down his throat until he stopped breathing.

I am sorry for the horrible topic, but you must understand that it is history necessary to understand Isaac further]