A life, born from a weak pulse, a pulse that grows stronger and stronger. A pulse that gives life to a body and a mind. You feel strong, so amazingly strong. Like if nothing in entire Hyboria can stand against you, not even Toth-Amon himelf can stop you. But even so it will end like this? A warrior that so few days ago thought he could make a difference in this world. Defeat mighty warlords and mages, mount the finest of Stygian women. Beaten. Beaten by foolishness. Foolishness and cold. Jorg tries to raise his head, trying to muster the last scrap of forces to get up, to get on. But it is over, he knows he is going to die, the end is already here. The pulse that had grown so strong was yet again become as weak as a newborn child’s.
It all started 47 days ago, Jorg and his brother Ghorm had grown tired of the everyday life in the little village of Verselio. They dreamt of greater things. They both knew that they had been put into this world to accomplish bigger things than herding their father’s goats. The thrill of sneaking into the barrel makers daughters and look for hidden treasure under their skirts. Jorg wanted more, he wanted to see Stygian women, the library in Tarantia, and test his strength on the Cimmerian warriors. He was a big and strong man, and no one in the village could measure up to his skills in both sword and bow. So finding a place in the big world would be no problem. Ghorm was more the quite type, but with the same hunger for excitement and wisdom. The few books that were in Verselio he had read many a time. Jorg actually believed Ghorm could recite some of them by heart. So late one fall they began their adventure, Ghorm had found a old map and the road to Tarantia did not look that difficult. The adventurers found quickly out that the road on a map differs a lot from the real road.
They had not gotten far before the trouble started. The Nemedian plunderers were not overly skilled, but they were many. They spared the life of the two, but took all the equipment and provisions of any value were taken from them. So was the map, the adventurers did now not know where they were and what road to take, but they bit their teeth together and ventured on.
By a mountain pass known as Ymirs Pass Ghorm took ill. Ghorm had neither the physic nor the health of Jorg and the cold was too strong for him. They found a cave and Jorg got a fire started. Around them they heard Yeties and cavebears, this was no place to stay put, but Ghorm was in no condition to move. They agreed that Jorg should try and get down from the mountain and get help. So Jorg got out into the snow yet again, it was falling even thicker now. He did not come far before the strength went out of him. Jorg fell to the ground, it was over, nothing could save Ghorm now. The last thing Jorg remembered from the journey was a tall man figure bending down at him.
Jorg woke up in a city in Poitain, the man that had saved him was a mage by the name Calfuray. He had found Jorg in bad condition with terrible frostbite and took him to his guilds city where the priests had healed him. As soon as Jorg got his strength back he borrowed a horse and got back up into the mountains too look for his brother, but it was useless, Ghorm was nowhere to be found.
Jorg stayed with his ned companions, but many days and nights he spent in the mountains looking for his brother with no luck. His frustration he got out by fighting alongside his new brothers and sisters in Legio VI Victrix