Zoran walked through the city gates. He hadn't really expected much from the civilians in the way of a greeting, so their muteness didn't phase him at all. He strode through town on foot wearing his scratched armor but he kept his helmet off allowing his long black hair to hang in front of his face. His body resembled something more monster than man. Born at a record size, many people already knew that Zoran would go far in the army.

At the age of five Zoran had been big enough to hold a sword so he was tought how to handle one. He had always considered them to be a useless weapon and when he was eight had been given a war hammer. He instantly fell in love and could now use one with more dexterity then most men could use a sword.

At ten Zoran was initiated into the army and quickly started to fly through the ranks. He wasn't as smart as moist people but he knew how to hurt people and he ended up being an almost masterful tactician in battle. He had only ever had to retreat from one battle, and for revenge he rallied more troops and went on to destroy half of the enemies nation. The armor he wore was ceremonial only, in battle he only wore his chest plate and lower armor. He believed that the armor on his arms was useless, of course it's not like much could get through the skin and muscle on his arms anyways.

Zoran made his way to the castle and felt the typical cloud of politics enshroud it. He hated being here and hated most of the people inside it more. He had been told however by a good friend to wait outside of the gates for him.