Prologue

The cold wind swept past with a mighty roar. A robust warrior stands alone at the summit of the icy mountains of Gihndala. He holds a great axe, stained with the blood of many foes. Some of them fools, others honorable opponents. Yet it is this warrior who stands tall today, the chilling gusts seem to take no effect as he stands proudly on the mountain. His body muscular and full of scars that tell the tales of many furious battles. Yes, this is a hero even the gods would be proud of. But this story is not about this man. No, this story is about a different kind of hero.

Chapter One

"Hey father why do آپ always climb the mountains with nothing but your underwear on? آپ don't look cool آپ look like a loser." Asks a teenaged boy. He is donning a huge cloth شرٹ, قمیض with wool trousers. He has jet black hair, which is neatly cut and he is also pretty fat. He is sitting اگلے to his father who is snuggled up in a برداشت, ریچھ pelt blanket اگلے to a booming fire. He had just come back from his weekly trip to the Gihndala mountains and is trying to fight off hypothermia . "Son I have t-told آپ about a m-million times سے طرف کی n-now. If a man can w-walk the greatest mountain in all of the l-land in nothing but his under garments, he can do anything. And don't use s-such language with your father boy, دکھائیں some respect." The boy's father replied, his voice quivering from the harsh frigid weather he had to endure which is still rattling his body. "W-whatever آپ s-say" The teen کہا back, in a mocking manner. "How dare you! آپ are to respect your elders! When I was your age I had to hunt boars with my bare hands! If I had talked to my father like that-" The boys father ranted on and on for what seemed like forever. Soon the boy gave up listening and just nodded his head. "…...- and that’s why آپ should do what I say when I say it, do آپ understand me Abrahamith?" The man asked his son, finishing his long rant. "Yes father." کہا Abrahamith in a compliant tone. "Good now get to sleep before I get really upset." Abrahamith took his father's advice and ran up the stairs as fast as his chubby legs would allow him to. He soon had gotten tired after the third step and decided to walk the rest. He looked at all the different weapons and trophies his father had decorated the walls with while walking.