The rocks scattered as the shepherd slid down the slight incline. Blind due to the thick fog, he made his way to the bleating of his lost animal and attached the lead to the beast. The fog parted and he saw a man, three hundred times larger than any man he had ever seen trying to pull a sword out of his chest. The dying man was pinned to one of the mountains and rivers of blood seeped from his wound.
He should not be here, the village elders forbid it. The valley of dead gods was forsaken, off limits to mere mortals. Try as he might, his feet remained rooted to the spot. The giant man’s eyes finally noticed the shepherd and seemed to bore into his soul. Lifting his hand to the blade, he sliced of the last joint of his pinky and hurled it towards the mortal. As the finger slammed into the ground a flash of light blinded the young man. As his vision cleared he saw the finger joint buried into the ground, only bone remained. The giant lay dead, only its skeleton and the sword proof that the shepherd had not imagined the whole incident. The shepherd pulled the finger from the ground and noticed the word ‘Godslayer’ etched into the tip. Hefting the giant bone to his shoulder the shepherd and beast made their way out of the valley.
“Twenty years ago that was and he still wanders the world. He found the giant’s brother and slayed him with the spear of bone he carried.” The old man spit into the fire before continuing. “Shepherd, the Godslayer, the most dangerous man alive. Bane of the old gods, heretic of the new. He seeks to purge this world of every god so that man alone can rule.”