The Tale of Solomon Soulhammer Pt. I

One of the most enigmatic High Lords to exist at the dawn of the Holy Empire, Solomon Soulhammer's rise to fame would start from the humblest of beginnings.

Solomon came from a long line of blacksmiths originating in the city of Rodes on the banks of the Rodesian river in the lands of Datia. His childhood was unremarkable save for an abundance of prodigious strength, both physically and mentally, not found in most children his age. That strength of will, as well as his physical might, would lead him away from his humble beginnings and into the arms of the Datian Army at sixteen when Master Artos, a prominent hoplite of Rodes, chose the hulking youth as his attendant for reasons never fully revealed for five years.

It was during the Tiberian War, when the Vesian tribes came down from the Mountains of Vesiar North of Datia, that Solomon's renown spread as the simple attendant to a Rodesian hoplite by the name of Artos. At age twenty one, having served faithfully to Master Artos for five years at this point, Solomon was among those deemed unfortunate enough to meet the Vesian warriors as they entered Rodes through the Bay of the same name. The Datian Army,as well as the lands of Datia, were weakly supported by their Eturian overlords and were left by themselves to deal with the Vesian threat, seeing as most of the superior Eturian Army was off to the West fighting near Drysia against the Adamantians.

As most historians will tell you, the Datian Army was destroyed at Rodes by the Vesian hordes that would go on to ravish all of Datia. However, they discount the story of a single hoplite attendant saving hundreds of civilian lives in Rodes as well as staving off multiple attacks by Vesian warriors the entire way. They also like to curl their lip at distaste when it's added on that he saved so many Rodesian lives by wielding nothing but a warhammer reportedly stolen from a young, reckless Vesi supposedly the son of High Lord Rollo of all of Tiberia.

He did.

However, the truth is always more bloody and less fair.

The Rodesian Army, while having a few score exceptional hoplites that served in the greater Datian Army, was a largely inexperienced and undisciplined lot compared to all the other great Datian cities' forces and, in it's past, had staved off disaster more by diplomatic skill and hefty tributes than any military prowess. Master Artos was but a handful of other veteran hoplites that were currently on rotation through the city of Rodes in their garrisoning duties when the Vesi launched their attack, something Solomon had thought fortunate in the days before the slaughter, having spent time with his family when his duties to Master Artos allowed it.

It's no secret that the poorly experienced and undisciplined Rodesian forces routed within the first few minutes of the attack, the brutal Vesi overwhelming the Rodesians in short order as night fell. However, a smaller disciplined core made up entirely of veterans was able to hold a portion of the docks from the rampaging Vesi long enough for their attendants, now garbed as the lighter armed peltasts common in the Rodesian forces, to fall back and defend citizens fleeing the city.

Master Artos and his men did not abandon their stand. Two hundred men, under the command of Captain Artos of Rodes, held the docks for three hours before exhaustion and overwhelming numbers destroyed them utterly. Their sacrifice allowed Solomon and a dwindling band of former attendants to lead over two thousand people out of Rodes and into the Vaustian Hills and thus into temporary safety. Among the numbers saved were members of the attendants' families. However, none could claim to be the kin of Solomon. Solomon, who had been the rearguard of the slow moving train of vulnerable citizens as they had exited the city as blood and fire claimed it.

A trio of attendants, having found a gully deep enough to hide the civilians and far enough away from Rodes for the people to rest decided to head back to find Solomon, their leader. They found him a mile away from the campsite, surrounded by a handful of Vesi corpses, covered in the filth of battle. He had sat underneath the boughs of an old tree and wept openly at the death he had wrought. In the distance, smoke rose from the once proud city of Rodes and the wind brought screams as those unfortunate enough not to escape were sent to the Light.

In his hands, the warhammer glowed.