Stromathar's father was a warrior, and so was he. Stromathar. iron clad armor, long, gleaming sword, and short jet black hair instantly made him a stand-out in a crowd. He lived in "Chargrim", an ancient elven city invaded and captured by the Nostralrian family 600 years ago. 

Stromathar was a disturbed and, frankly, quite weird kid. He'd grown up in a large family, surrounded by cousins, siblings, and other endless relatives, but he'd spent his time in his quarters, practicing the power of life, fire, and frost magic. Stromathar had dabbled in them for years, since he was 6 or 7 years old. Back then, he would only zap his sisters with fire spells, and turn his water into a icy slush with ice and frost spells. But the magic he enjoyed the most of all was life magic. Things like helping his farmer in-laws with dead crops and bringing his pet goldfish, Timmy, back to life. His passion had grown over the years, and now, being almost 20 years old, he'd do more great things with his talents, like mass resurrections after homicides, and reviving entire square-mile grain fields. His parents were very elated whenever he'd revive anything.

Because they cared.

He was standing out in 35 degree weather waiting to be crowned into High King of the empire. This was a huge deal, and he was overly nervous about the glorious occasion, but you couldn't tell by his face.

"Prince Stromathar, your people await." said his butler.

"Prepare my throne. I'll be out in second." Stromathar, being Stromathar, was very informal, and hated when everybody was all formal around him.

Stromathar stood up, and walked anxiously across the courtroom. His heart pumped as he opened the court doors, and stepped outside. Thundering cheering and applause filled the Commons, as he waved to the huge horde of farmers, merchants, and peasants. He walked over to the crowning area, bowing his head to the Archbishop, then to his eager father and mother. With a speech from the Archbishop, the ritual began.

"Prince Stromathar, kneel. Before I crown you High King, I would like to acknowledge the High Elder, and Queen for conceiving this child and, oh, thank the Lords that he is here today to be crowned." preached the Archbishop.

Stromathar rolled his eyes.

"I now offcially crown you High King Stromathar of Chargrim!" 

With the golden circlet placed on his head, he felt a boom of inner power. Why wouldn't he? He now controls an entire, century-old empire. He has power to dispose of at any time.

After the crowning ceremony, Stromathar and his a little unsustainable family headed to the Dining Hall. The Hall was gigantic. It's chandeliers were already lit for the occasion. As everybody took their seats, Stromathar' father stood. 

"I would like to give a toast to all people who contributed to my son's success."

Stromathar rolled his eyes once again.

What he would do with his power, he didn't know yet. He knew he would use it to heal and help all who needed.

He thought.

The meal was finished and his relatives were tired. As per usual, he'd departed to go on his nightly walk through the many green-spaces throughout the kingdom. The main reason he did this was for relaxation, but it had a more spiritual meaning, like embracing the whispers of the Spirits of Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire. Many braziers lit his way through the castle gardens. His cloak was wrapped snugly around his towering figure.

"Uncle Stromathar?" said a young, familiar female voice.

"Oh, uh, Lia? Hello. What are you doing out this late?" replied Stromathar.

Lia was Stromathar' niece, and only being 5 years old, she was overly interested in Stromathar' elemental divinity. 

"So, you know how you can create fire and all that? Well, the candle in my room blew out, and I want you to relight it." stammered Lia.

"Oh, OK. I can do that." confidently replied Stromathar.

While walking to his niece's room, he spoke to the elements.
"Is there anything worrying you tonight?" asked Stromathar.

"Nay. Thy is clean both spiritually and physically." said the elements, unified like a heavenly choir. As they walked gracefully through the palace gardens, Stromathar' curiosity mounted. He asked the elements.

"Is there an element that I have not mastered? Any element I am unbeknownst to? I want more knowledge." said Stromathar, pure curiosity in his voice.

A vibe of worry came from the elements.

"Well, there is one forbidden element that was mastered by the once infamous Shadowflame Warlocks of the south. An element that defies all laws of life and the holy teachings. This element is necromancy. We shall say no more. Do not dabble in this magic, we warn you." sternly said the elements.

"I shall not touch this magic."

 "I promise." said Stromathar.

Stromathar defied all of the holy teachings. He drank and ate to his leisure, he went into no fasting diets, as per expected for a future king, and he was ruthless in hunting, and anger. He was currently trudging through the swamps of Elthelyr, a tiny county visible from the very highest balconies of the Jade Tower, the tallest tower in the kingdom. Stromathar' senses were unnaturally powerful. He could smell his food all the way from the kitchen when it was ready, and he could hear the drop of a pin in a fighting ring when all of the peasants were cheering. And now, using his abilities in the wild, he hauled in the hunting squad's record catch.

"It's getting dark." said the squad leader.

"Stromathar, why don't you use those abilities of yours to light us a campfire. Everyone else, come with me."

Stromathar walked over to a suitable spot for a temporary camp, and gathered leaves and sticks. He laid them down in a bunch and casted a small fire shock, just enough to create a long-lasting campfire. 

Words echoed in his head.

"Stromathar, promise not to practice necromancy."

"I promise."

Stromathar closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

"I need more knowledge." he whispered.

"And I will have it."