The End of an Age
Steve was born to a father who was a well practiced smith and man-at-arms. All his life he worked for his father crafting steel, but he was a small boy, and avoided combat training whenever possible. When his father was killed at war and he was drafted to replace him, he wished he had spent more time with a sword. Luckily, they needed him at the anvil more than on the front lines.
His luck would not hold out long enough. The ranks were thinning, and he was forced to join the men-at-arms. In his first battle he wet himself and hid behind the corpses that fell infront of him. When the enemy had passed him, he found himself behind the enemy lines and in danger of capture, or worse, death. Sneaking among the dead, he found another man-at-arms who had hid as well. He was broader and more capable, but he did not look like a front line fighter either. His name was Jon.
Together, Jon and Steve snuck into the enemy camp and stole a horse, and rode back to camp. After that day the two were inseperable. Something about staring death in the eye with another man next to you makes you respect and love that man. Throughout the next few battles, Jon protected Steve, and Steve made sure Jon was supplied with the best steel and armor. When word came that an unknown power was marching north with horrors from long past, Jon and Steve decided they had enough. In the dead of night, they snuck away, but not before Steve could swipe a good deal of smithing equipment to pay passage to the nearest city state: Summerbrook.
In Summerbrook, Jon and Steve did all they could to ensure their survival. It was more than Steve could take. As a deserter and a thief, Steve worried for his life. Luckily, they soon met a traveling mercenary band offering food and bed; more importantly, they were offering protection. Jon seemed eager to join, which made it all the easier. The group was without a smith, which to Steve meant he may never have to see combat again. It was too good to pass up…