Weaving - The Goliath's Reflection

Written by Luke Kell, Magnus’ player

The decision was made in an instant. To those around him, the moment passed as any other before. But to Magnus Steelhart, the choice bore the weight of his very soul. The young man stared at the reflection in the ornate bronze shield, once symbolizing everything he had ever dreamed of. Years of training, taking every bruise with pride knowing it would culminate in holding a shield such as this. A Ramshorn, protector of the North Honor, champion of the Stormfather’s glory. Even now, Magnus yearned to stand on the shores of the stonefields, ready to defend his people from the threat of Hoss.

But so much had happened since the day his mother, once all he aspired to be, handed him that Ram’s head aegis- and with it, the weight of the Ward’s expectation in him. The young man had seen so much more than his once naïve had ever imagined possible, and it showed in the reflection staring back at him. The fact was, he was no longer the boy forced from his home a short time ago. And as Magnus stared at the reflection’s convex edges, he saw much of the reasons why.

Four other reflections looked back at Magnus, seven if you count their companions. They, and so many others have warped the reflection that he now saw into something he didn’t expect to see. Someone who had expectations far beyond the reaches of the stormwinds, expectations that could warp the very face of Zol as he knew it.

So, in that moment, the young man strapped the shield and all it represented to his back and gripped the titanic gleaming sword with both hands, allowing its radiant energy to resonate with his own crackling electricity. Because the fact was, Magnus Steelhart was no Ramshorn. He was a fucking Street Dog.