Krieg was little over 9 years old when he took his coming-of-age trials, competing with boys 6-7 years older than he. His father, the Master Fletcher of his tribe, had put a bow in his hand as soon as he was able to walk. By age 5, he could put an arrow between two moving rings of steel. By age 7 he had already broken his mount, A black stallion by the name of Swift who seemed to be made for Krieg.
During the trials, it is not uncommon for permanent injury to occur. The boys are given training weapons, and they are each told to bring back the best game they can find. Those who could bring back enough food to feed the tribe would be granted the title of Domi (or warrior-hunter). Those who could not were given 2 more chances to succeed, and should they fail the 3rd time they would be exiled from the tribe with a knife and a waterskin.
When the first boy came for him, he was ready. He had cut and shaved a willow-bark switch and as the boy approached him, he snapped it into the eye of his horse. To the beast's credit, it did not topple over, but it did stop moving and flung it's rider from the saddle.
So it went for each other boy who would test Krieg: They found themselves unhorsed and swearing his name profusely. Krieg shot a pair of bucks and made a travoy to carry the meat, then shot the mated wolves who came tracking his kill.
Now his tribe would eat well.
When Krieg neared the tent city where his tribe had camped for the trials, he was greeted by the boys who he had bested. Though he fought bravely, he was eventually unhorsed and beaten. It would have been worse, but Swift intervened and crushed one of the other boy's heads. Content to take his spoils as their own, they returned to the village and were given the title of Domi. Knowing that he would shame his father should he return empty handed, Krieg rode into the night collecting game. When he returned at first light, he had killed a mighty beast: An elephant. The boys who had attacked him seethed, but said nothing. This would be the start of the feud that lasted for several years, culminating with open war between himself and the seven other hunters, who attacked him from ambush.
They were, however, not ready for him as an enemy.
Hanging from the side of Swift, he fired arrows that killed the first two men before they could reach him. Wheeling his horse, he rolled from the saddle and stabbed the next man who charged him with his spear. Leaving it in the fool's chest, he drew his bow and whistled for Swift. Two more he killed when they attempted to attack him from both sides, as when they were flanking him with all three horses galloping, he made Swift slam to a halt, which flung him from the saddle. He used the momentum to plunge his blade into the first man's spine, then drew his bow and fired a pair of arrows into the other man. The last three he picked off as they were fleeing. A single arrow for each and down they went. He collected what coin and arrows they had, plus his dropped weapons, and left his tribe.
At the time, his people had roamed into Shemitish lands, and the first lord he met offered him a job as a messenger. That lord was Prince Satabus.
Krieg worked tirelessly to bring word to all of the Prince's lords of the war to come. Several times, he was forced to defend himself on the road, but was usually left alone after he killed one or two attackers with well-placed arrows.
Once the army had gathered, Krieg was placed with the scouts and promised a share of the spoils from the battle.
Things went disasterously from the start. As his scouting unit crested a hill, they met an enemy scouting unit doing the same. A battle ensued, and it was fairly evenly matched until the sorcerer began casting some sort of spell. Krieg pumped half a quiver of arrows into him, but the wizard had spells to protect himself. Given no other option (and the fact that there were almost no remaining scouts on his side) he called the retreat and quit the battle.
As he fled, a mist began to billow from the hill, and inside the mist, something moved. Krieg rode like the wind, and Swift lived up to his name. They stayed ahead of the mist and whatever was within it. Given the screams he heard as he rode, it was nothing good. Finally, the mist receded, and an abattoir lay behind him. He rode hard to the command tent, but the battle was already in disarray by the time he had arrived. Taking a spare quiver of arrows, he quit the field, as his father had taught him that a mage was a dangerous enemy who could not be trusted. As he is leaving, he encountered a rag-tag band of survivors, also fleeing the treacherous battle...
