Role

Chapter 1

Erorm's early life was woven with tragedy and shadows, beginning in the
majestic stronghold of Mortorn. Born to a family whom the Shadow Sect of the
Empire greatly feared, his life changed forever during a night marked by
cruel treachery. Agents of the Sect, whispers made flesh, infiltrated the
family domicile. Silently and ruthlessly, they exacted their terrible
mission, believing they had wiped out the prophecy's seed. However, little
did they know, the infant Erorm had miraculously survived the onslaught.

Salvation came in the form of his uncle, who, upon discovering the dire
aftermath, swiftly smuggled Erorm away to Galadon. Under his uncle's care,
Erorm began walking the dual path of monk and paladin. He would meditate,
seeking inner peace, and practice martial forms, channeling his grief into
honing his skills. However, it was the streets of Galadon that became his
crucible, testing his mettle and forging his courageous heart.

One vivid memory that painted Galadon's narrative was of Erorm, still quite
young, witnessing a distraught mother's cries. A shadowy figure, larger and
taller than him, was attempting to kidnap her child. Without hesitation,
Erorm darted forward. Leaping into the air with the agility of a jaguar, he
struck the figure's shoulder with a powerful, focused blow. The kidnapper
staggered but didn't release the child. The ensuing struggle was fierce.
Erorm, using his small size to his advantage, delivered a series of rapid
strikes, targeting pressure points learned from his monk training. However,
the kidnapper managed to land a blow, causing Erorm to reel back, blood
trickling from a cut on his brow. With a mighty shout, mustering all his
paladin-driven resolve, Erorm lunged one final time, managing to separate the
child from the assailant, who then fled into the maze-like streets.

Another episode etched in the city's annals involved an elderly man being
cornered on Galadon's eastern road by a group of menacing thugs. Erorm,
happening upon this, leaped into the fray. The sun's last rays glinted off
his fists as he moved, swift as the wind, striking down the first assailant.
But numbers were not in his favor. A heavy boot found his ribs, a knife
grazed his arm, leaving a stinging trail of red. Gasping for breath but
undeterred, Erorm channeled his paladin's righteous fury, sending another
thug sprawling. Using the momentary chaos, he urged the old man to run,
covering their retreat with a flurry of defensive moves, barely evading the
blade aimed at his heart.