Savihri - The Two-Faced Archer
One of the few still-existing renditions of Savihri
Early Years
Savihri was born in the early years of The Age of Serenity, born in year 48 of this dynasty, and raised in a small province of humans in Ellesma. He was a simple farm-boy, enjoying his days of peaceful peasantry, even occasionally befriending young elves and Ignians from nearby villages. He never dreamed of grandeur, only settling down with the nice elven girl living in town, Merry, and raising a small family in harmony.
He was always very content with tending the fields, then meeting Merry for fruit underneath a large tree near town. His schedule was easy to follow, but that didn't matter to him, he didn't want anything big in life, he only wanted to make Merry happy, a feeling he didn't understand at this young age; that feeling was called love.
He always remembered a few of his favorite times with Merry. Like strolling through a meadow, hand in hand, talking about mundane events that occurred throughout the day, but her stories were always more compelling to the young boy more than bursting stars or dazzling flames. He remembered the way she would pronounce his name as "Savory" and he only corrected her once. He remembered watching her fire dull arrows, still delicate and graceful as a dancer, and knocking the fruit they would always eat down.
That didn't stay the case, however. Once the elves and the humans went to war in the year 61, his settlement was one of the first attacked. The elves were respectful enough to only kill those who opposed them, and took the rest prisoner. The 13 year old had to deal with the loss of both of his parents, and two sisters, and the elves of Ellesma brainwashed him into thinking that the human armies of Everia did it, thinking the townsfolk were supporters of Ellesma; but Merry kept him grounded, telling him the truth after every session of brainwashing.
He vowed to avenge his family, but couldn't join the armies Everia, not until he could secure a boat to the sister continent. So, he decided to do as the elves planned, and joined Ellesma's army. He did just that, and they taught him the elven ways of archery, of hitting a target from hundreds of feet away, of blurring the sky by oneself and hitting a moving target's eye from horseback, even.
After enough training from both his instructors and Merry, he soon surpassed even some of the most respected archers in the Ellesman armies. So, three years into the War of the Moon, as the elves called it, Savihri joined the armies of Elesma.
Teenage Years
After actually becoming a member of the army, Savihri vowed that he'd protect Merry, and she promised that she would wait for him to help end the war, he was off.
He was an expert in the battlefield, dropping more Everians than any elf could hope to. He'd fire from hundreds of yards away, hitting targets other elves couldn't so much as see. He was deemed the son of Valkyr early on in the war, wiping out entire portions of armies with hidden regret and deep-seated shame. He was a human, killing humans, for elves. Little did he realize, there was a small portion of rage burning within him the entire time.
Two more years into the war, he quickly ascended to the rank of commander, leading charges to meet the enemy head on, then falling back to fire a rain of arrows into the Everian's, alongside his archers. The elves all looked up to him, and in public he seemed to appreciate it, but in private, he would loathe his own existence, only staying on the side of the elves to protect Merry, but soon she would be in Everia, he only had to secure her transport there.
Between battles, and when he would be near the town she was in, Savihri would always stop in with Merry, checking on her. He would wait with bated breath before he got to embrace her again, to simply touch the honeydew skin of his lover, to breathe in her sweet essence. She was his world, and he would always bring her a small gift. A beautiful seashell, since she couldn't risk crossing Everian borders to go see the ocean; a bouquet of flowers from all over, preserved by a battlemage's magic, but he would always admit that they didn't compare to her; or he would simply bring his love for a few days, that was all they needed to tide themselves over for as long as it took him to return.
That transport came when a group of merchants came to a port that Savihri was stationed in. He easily persuaded them to allow Merry to return to Everia with them, under the guise that she was human, just like her lover, Savihri. However, Merry refused to go, Ellesma was her home, no matter how broken by war. Savihri respected her wishes, and agreed with her them without a question asked.
However, it was his time to finally join the Everian army, it would blindside the elves, and would render them weak, losing one of their most powerful commanders. He went to one of the few war camps established by the humans and claimed he was but a humble archer, seeking to join the cause. Since no Everian had ever seen him without being shot by an arrow, they all believed him, and he easily became a simple foot soldier.
Down a commander, the foothold that the elves were so proud of quickly diminished to a simple tug-of-war. The Everians had spirit and guile, but the Ellesmans had tactics and the home field advantage, but not for long.
Savihri didn't show off his prowess with a bow for the first year into the war alongside the Everians, in hopes of staying mixed into the melting pot of foot-soldiers he was currently in, but his mastery over the bow became apparent after he slew a commander he was one close friends with, Rah Ja, the Ignian commander of the Ellesman armies. He killed Rah Ja from the opposite side of the battlefield, with one arrow, quickly demoralizing the Ignians, resulting in an easy victory. Savihri claimed to his superiors that it was nothing but a lucky shot, but he ascended through the ranks quickly, anyway.
The elves were furious when they discovered Savihri's betrayal, and their forces lost the patience they once held with such pride. They charged headlong into battles, the Everian's slaying them with ease. They razed entire towns at a time, quickly sweeping across the countryside.
Adult Years
After another few years, Savihri was 23, and they eventually reached the city that Merry lived in, Savihri sent letter after letter, telling her to flee the city, for the risk she might be killed. They quickly reached the town, and Savihri could only hope that Merry had escaped. She was intelligent, but she was also stubborn, and he had hoped that his dozens of letters had persuaded her to leave, to an Everian controlled town.
He met Merry about a mile outside of town, two days before the battle was planned to start. He swept a strand of hair from her face, his tiny smile forming again. She was almost glowing, her pregnant stomach almost keeping them from hugging one another. Savihri was going to have a child soon, a young half-elf. He would never let this addition to the world be shunned or idolized, as most half-elves were, he would live as he did before the war, simply, without anyone to question their existence, alone with the two people he loved the most. He knew how greedy he was, he would spend his entire life with his wife and child, and they would live lifetimes beyond him.
Two days later, the Everians razed this town as well, rather easily, in fact. While the troops celebrated by drinking and playing games, Savihri combed the battlefield, removing helmet and hood alike, hoping that his love wouldn't be under the next one he removed. Then, he saw her. Merry's torso was pinned to a tree by a lance, that had been driven through her and bore completely through the once pure bark with ease.
Savihri could feel his entire body go numb. Were the elves right this whole time? Were the Everians to blame for all of his strife? His entire body shook with anger, vision clouded with hatred and loss of hope. Merry was the only thing he cared about, his only love. She was the only person he truly cared about to the day, she was his everything. And then he broke.
He went on a killing spree, killing dozens of Everians with arrows they didn't even hear whiz into their skull, he wiped out the entire invading force, only bringing his lover's corpse out of the town that was now lighten ablaze.
She was beyond healing, her body was cold and limp, and was already stiff. So, Savihri simply built a small shrine, on top of her newly buried body. Her muttered a quick prayer and stood, the flames of hate still ready to damn everyone he saw to hell.
He charged into armies, both of Everian and Ellesman nationality and slaughtered them. He fell entire armies from the sheer hatred he held for his love, that was murdered by his own men. He fell thousands upon thousands of men and women, relentless enough to even kill civilians. He wouldn't let a single soul live while was damned to this horrible pain.
Final Years
As Savihri was getting ready to slaughter another town. Then he saw it. He saw an Ellesman soldier and an Everian archer both throw down their weapons, and embrace one another, in love. Savihri saw that love that he once held so tightly. He was two-faced, only pledging allegiance to a cause so long as it benefit his love. He didn't cherish Merry while she was with him, only after the war he helped fuel had killed her.
He stared down the arrow he had aimed at the couple, a solitary tear falling onto the ground. He lowered his weapon, and simply left.
His body was discovered next to Merry's altar some years later, more of a skeleton. He gifted his final minutes, all of them, to his dead lover, until he had no more minutes left to give. The pain of hunger and thirst were nothing compared to his sorrow and guilt, he didn't even sleep while he sat there.
No one loved or forgave Savihri after he died, but few despised or were disgusted with him. He was a true warrior of love, even if no one knew until he was gone.
Savihri was born in the early years of The Age of Serenity, born in year 48 of this dynasty, and raised in a small province of humans in Ellesma. He was a simple farm-boy, enjoying his days of peaceful peasantry, even occasionally befriending young elves and Ignians from nearby villages. He never dreamed of grandeur, only settling down with the nice elven girl living in town, Merry, and raising a small family in harmony.
He was always very content with tending the fields, then meeting Merry for fruit underneath a large tree near town. His schedule was easy to follow, but that didn't matter to him, he didn't want anything big in life, he only wanted to make Merry happy, a feeling he didn't understand at this young age; that feeling was called love.
He always remembered a few of his favorite times with Merry. Like strolling through a meadow, hand in hand, talking about mundane events that occurred throughout the day, but her stories were always more compelling to the young boy more than bursting stars or dazzling flames. He remembered the way she would pronounce his name as "Savory" and he only corrected her once. He remembered watching her fire dull arrows, still delicate and graceful as a dancer, and knocking the fruit they would always eat down.
That didn't stay the case, however. Once the elves and the humans went to war in the year 61, his settlement was one of the first attacked. The elves were respectful enough to only kill those who opposed them, and took the rest prisoner. The 13 year old had to deal with the loss of both of his parents, and two sisters, and the elves of Ellesma brainwashed him into thinking that the human armies of Everia did it, thinking the townsfolk were supporters of Ellesma; but Merry kept him grounded, telling him the truth after every session of brainwashing.
He vowed to avenge his family, but couldn't join the armies Everia, not until he could secure a boat to the sister continent. So, he decided to do as the elves planned, and joined Ellesma's army. He did just that, and they taught him the elven ways of archery, of hitting a target from hundreds of feet away, of blurring the sky by oneself and hitting a moving target's eye from horseback, even.
After enough training from both his instructors and Merry, he soon surpassed even some of the most respected archers in the Ellesman armies. So, three years into the War of the Moon, as the elves called it, Savihri joined the armies of Elesma.
Teenage Years
After actually becoming a member of the army, Savihri vowed that he'd protect Merry, and she promised that she would wait for him to help end the war, he was off.
He was an expert in the battlefield, dropping more Everians than any elf could hope to. He'd fire from hundreds of yards away, hitting targets other elves couldn't so much as see. He was deemed the son of Valkyr early on in the war, wiping out entire portions of armies with hidden regret and deep-seated shame. He was a human, killing humans, for elves. Little did he realize, there was a small portion of rage burning within him the entire time.
Two more years into the war, he quickly ascended to the rank of commander, leading charges to meet the enemy head on, then falling back to fire a rain of arrows into the Everian's, alongside his archers. The elves all looked up to him, and in public he seemed to appreciate it, but in private, he would loathe his own existence, only staying on the side of the elves to protect Merry, but soon she would be in Everia, he only had to secure her transport there.
Between battles, and when he would be near the town she was in, Savihri would always stop in with Merry, checking on her. He would wait with bated breath before he got to embrace her again, to simply touch the honeydew skin of his lover, to breathe in her sweet essence. She was his world, and he would always bring her a small gift. A beautiful seashell, since she couldn't risk crossing Everian borders to go see the ocean; a bouquet of flowers from all over, preserved by a battlemage's magic, but he would always admit that they didn't compare to her; or he would simply bring his love for a few days, that was all they needed to tide themselves over for as long as it took him to return.
That transport came when a group of merchants came to a port that Savihri was stationed in. He easily persuaded them to allow Merry to return to Everia with them, under the guise that she was human, just like her lover, Savihri. However, Merry refused to go, Ellesma was her home, no matter how broken by war. Savihri respected her wishes, and agreed with her them without a question asked.
However, it was his time to finally join the Everian army, it would blindside the elves, and would render them weak, losing one of their most powerful commanders. He went to one of the few war camps established by the humans and claimed he was but a humble archer, seeking to join the cause. Since no Everian had ever seen him without being shot by an arrow, they all believed him, and he easily became a simple foot soldier.
Down a commander, the foothold that the elves were so proud of quickly diminished to a simple tug-of-war. The Everians had spirit and guile, but the Ellesmans had tactics and the home field advantage, but not for long.
Savihri didn't show off his prowess with a bow for the first year into the war alongside the Everians, in hopes of staying mixed into the melting pot of foot-soldiers he was currently in, but his mastery over the bow became apparent after he slew a commander he was one close friends with, Rah Ja, the Ignian commander of the Ellesman armies. He killed Rah Ja from the opposite side of the battlefield, with one arrow, quickly demoralizing the Ignians, resulting in an easy victory. Savihri claimed to his superiors that it was nothing but a lucky shot, but he ascended through the ranks quickly, anyway.
The elves were furious when they discovered Savihri's betrayal, and their forces lost the patience they once held with such pride. They charged headlong into battles, the Everian's slaying them with ease. They razed entire towns at a time, quickly sweeping across the countryside.
Adult Years
After another few years, Savihri was 23, and they eventually reached the city that Merry lived in, Savihri sent letter after letter, telling her to flee the city, for the risk she might be killed. They quickly reached the town, and Savihri could only hope that Merry had escaped. She was intelligent, but she was also stubborn, and he had hoped that his dozens of letters had persuaded her to leave, to an Everian controlled town.
He met Merry about a mile outside of town, two days before the battle was planned to start. He swept a strand of hair from her face, his tiny smile forming again. She was almost glowing, her pregnant stomach almost keeping them from hugging one another. Savihri was going to have a child soon, a young half-elf. He would never let this addition to the world be shunned or idolized, as most half-elves were, he would live as he did before the war, simply, without anyone to question their existence, alone with the two people he loved the most. He knew how greedy he was, he would spend his entire life with his wife and child, and they would live lifetimes beyond him.
Two days later, the Everians razed this town as well, rather easily, in fact. While the troops celebrated by drinking and playing games, Savihri combed the battlefield, removing helmet and hood alike, hoping that his love wouldn't be under the next one he removed. Then, he saw her. Merry's torso was pinned to a tree by a lance, that had been driven through her and bore completely through the once pure bark with ease.
Savihri could feel his entire body go numb. Were the elves right this whole time? Were the Everians to blame for all of his strife? His entire body shook with anger, vision clouded with hatred and loss of hope. Merry was the only thing he cared about, his only love. She was the only person he truly cared about to the day, she was his everything. And then he broke.
He went on a killing spree, killing dozens of Everians with arrows they didn't even hear whiz into their skull, he wiped out the entire invading force, only bringing his lover's corpse out of the town that was now lighten ablaze.
She was beyond healing, her body was cold and limp, and was already stiff. So, Savihri simply built a small shrine, on top of her newly buried body. Her muttered a quick prayer and stood, the flames of hate still ready to damn everyone he saw to hell.
He charged into armies, both of Everian and Ellesman nationality and slaughtered them. He fell entire armies from the sheer hatred he held for his love, that was murdered by his own men. He fell thousands upon thousands of men and women, relentless enough to even kill civilians. He wouldn't let a single soul live while was damned to this horrible pain.
Final Years
As Savihri was getting ready to slaughter another town. Then he saw it. He saw an Ellesman soldier and an Everian archer both throw down their weapons, and embrace one another, in love. Savihri saw that love that he once held so tightly. He was two-faced, only pledging allegiance to a cause so long as it benefit his love. He didn't cherish Merry while she was with him, only after the war he helped fuel had killed her.
He stared down the arrow he had aimed at the couple, a solitary tear falling onto the ground. He lowered his weapon, and simply left.
His body was discovered next to Merry's altar some years later, more of a skeleton. He gifted his final minutes, all of them, to his dead lover, until he had no more minutes left to give. The pain of hunger and thirst were nothing compared to his sorrow and guilt, he didn't even sleep while he sat there.
No one loved or forgave Savihri after he died, but few despised or were disgusted with him. He was a true warrior of love, even if no one knew until he was gone.
Mercy - The Murderous Shadow
Early Years
Mercy's own birth isn't something the world really noticed or recognized. She was born a few hundred or so years after the War of the Moon, and was brought into the world through shadows, one of the grandchildren of Osoreme, but the world didn't care for that knowledge, it wasn't important enough. She was simply born into a small town, and no one would give her a second glance.
That's exactly how she liked it as a child. When the world only glanced over her, like another mere sheep in the flock, it made her feel like she could accomplish anything without being caught. She always wore dark colors from a young age, along with her raven black hair and almost grayish skin, she was practically a shadow already. She lurked through town, alleys, streets, corridors, even her own home. She liked to be invisible to people, to feel like she was pulling seemingly invisible strings. It was one of her favorite fantasies.
One day, the sneak's mother was giving birth to her soon-to-be younger brother. Of course she was curious. A youngling to teach the ways of the shadows? Well how could she pass that up?
As fate would have it, her mother died during childbirth. It didn't really effect her, though. The shadows were Mercy's true family, these people were mere placeholders. Her younger brother had died of a sickness that had spread across town about a year later before Mercy could teach him the ways of shadows. Her father was wracked with horror, he'd sit in the study late at night, talking to himself. She liked to imagine that he spoke to her, since she would sit silently in the shadows nearby, yet she never really listened to what he was saying, the mere drone of a human voice sustained the young girl.
The plague in her town passed quickly, and seemed to pass over Mercy's family, which she was silently thankful for. You can't be very quiet if you're throwing up all the time. Everyone seemed fine only a few weeks after the mysterious disease had claimed her brother.
For the next year or so, everything went back to normal, other than her father. He was always tormented from that day on, Mercy understood why, she just lacked the empathy to comfort him, so she let him be.
Teenage Years
As Mercy matured, she fell even further in love with the shadows and the dark. She became a master thief, but only stealing small scraps of food when her twig-like body demanded she eat something. She'd move in like a breeze, and would be out just as easily. Stalking the streets, she would weave through small crowds expertly, no one even realizing she would pass and pilfer something from them, testing herself. She never needed the money, so she always swept right on by again and slipped it back.
She loved being 'invisible', just as she did when she was younger. It was amazing to be unseen, and she wanted it to stay that way. And it did, simply because no one noticed her... Everyone except a young man by the name of Cedric.
He loved watching Mercy slip through crowds. She was good at making sure that people didn't notice her, but not very good at knowing when she was being watched. He was content to simply watch.
One day, a few members of town simply dropped. of course Mercy was curious. She investigated their corpses with rapt interest. Their eyes were sunken and grey, their skin with small black splotches, and the strangest of all... Small black beetles crawled forth from their awestruck mouths, yet this new symptom only interested Mercy further.
She brought one of the bodies home in the dead of night, dissecting it like a careful surgeon, using a knife she swept from the blacksmith, some minutes prior. It was a mess, all of their innards had been turned to a fine black mesh of insects. So, she cut deeper. Large, cockroach-like creature sat, shaped and resting where normal organs would've been. Mercy wondered why they were there.
Mercy's father had left some month prior, completely forgetting about her, since the only time she was at home was for a few hours of sleep in the afternoon. She was fine with it, no one really knew she was in town anyway.
Soon though, more and more people began dying from the strange plague. Mercy's curiosity was replaced by what she knew was right. She didn't like it, but she had to investigate, and kill whatever was causing this. She lurked through town, over, under, through, around, and just like that, she knew where to go, picking up on conversations and clues like a vengeful specter.
A necromancer to the east had been abducting members of town recently, and implanting the bug in them. Luckily, the bugs weren't contagious, so only some third of the town had dropped so far. She still had time.
Within only two days, she found where the necromancer was holed up, in an old watch tower, long abandoned after the War of the Moon. She dove on in, armed with only two daggers the blacksmith's widow "gave" her. She skulked past every trap the wily necromancer had set up, and past a few others that were already there from year's past. She finally found him, robed and hooded, already impregnating another civilian.
She tugged her makeshift hood and facemask tight, leaped into the fray, and went for a stab at the necromancer. But he vanished in a puff of smoke. She wasn't a hero, but she liked the shadows, not death. This necromancer was going to be a pest to her interests and she knew it.
She chased him down only to lose him another half a dozen times, her final attempt being her sprinting down a long corridor, blades at the ready, stalking him through the darkness of flickering torches and dancing shadows. Yet he vanished after a turn at the end of the hall. She was pleased that something had finally managed to evade her for so long, yet frustrated at the same time.
Some many months later, she had finally caught him. He was in the bottom of a canyon known as The Cauldron, up to his same experiments. She had been stalking him for a few days now, making sure he had no way of evading her, plotting his movements, his patrols. She even knew the schedule in which he ate. Now was her time to strike, he didn't sleep and neither did she.
She skulked into his shadow, rising behind him with deliberate slowness, plunging both daggers into his neck. She was flooded with the ecstasy of the hunt, her prey finally dropping dead before and beneath her. She caught him in her frail-enough arms, and let his hood fall. She would finally see her mark's face.
It was her father.
He was pathetic, weakly raising a hand to swipe a bit of hair from Mercy's face and over her ear, an attempt at a loving gesture. Her limited range of emotions finally snapped, and a single tear fell onto her father.
He merely whispered how he wanted to bring his wife, Mercy's mother back, and would go to any length to do it. She dropped her father's corpse into the dirt, and simply left. Her lack of empathy kept her from too strong of emotion, yet these were the strongest she ever felt, the only person who even knew she still existed, and she murdered him. She had killed her own blood in pursuit of justice, was that really justice? Well, to her it wasn't, but she protected her home town. From that point on, she vowed to only steal and kill in the name of justice, merely because she knew it was right.
Adult Years
For many years outside of her childhood town, Mercy stole through the night, like a true daughter of Elice. She only ate when her body demanded it, and did the same with sleep and water. Her body was no temple, her body was barely even a body at this point. She might of well had been mere bone and sinew by now.
On the rare occasion she did stroll through the streets, it was in her stolen and plundered, black leather vestments. She wore a crimson hood, originally white but stained by the blood of the fallen. She was a Robin Hood of the times, stealing from nobles and bandits, and stooping into the houses of the unfortunate at night, delicately slipping the glittering coins beneath the sleeping heads of citizens.
The towns of Everia cherished the shadow that helped them all, even though no one even knew Mercy's name. This put her at peace, she could breathe again. The people loved what she did but not her, she was truly in her place.
But, as always happens, another evil swept across the land. An evil army, dominating the minds of the innocent approached, and Mercy had gotten wind of it as soon as they began invading the city she was in.
Before she could even react to the invaders, she was struck down, a knife to the back. She fell in the street, barely able to so much as crawl after her attacker, before the town was raided and ransacked.
A few weeks later, she awoke, in the midst of the king's troops, in a medical tent. Bandages surrounded her midsection and chests, and she glanced about. All of her equipment was in a neat pile at her feet. She quickly donned her armor and weapons, and stole into the night, as always.
She had no idea what was going on, nor who tried to kill her, yet she would avenge herself, and strike out into the ranks of that army, killing any leader she could get her hands on.
Final Years
Mercy struck swift and hard into the evil spawn that swept over Everia. She quickly dispatched a necromancer commander, and rid that section of the army from leadership, and not even a week later, she brutally massacred the orc that led the archers, again, leaving an entire unit defenseless, yet these kills weren't enough for her. She needed to kill the top dog.
She worked through the ranks, sneaking as she did through town, a mere shadow, not a single soldier so much as brushing against the fair assassin. She soon reached the stronghold of The Overlord.
She stole inside, leaving every soldier, civilian, and leader untouched, until she reached him.
The same man that stabbed her in the back, the one that is conquering her home, The Overlord himself.
She strolled through his throne room, right before his very eyes, not a guard nor commander in sight, and she simply turned to him, tilting her head.
He slowly rose from his seat, striding towards the confident Mercy, and suddenly, dropped to his hands and knees, his own knife plunged into the back of his neck. The Mercy that stood before him was merely her clothes on one of The Overlord's minions, who was coming to speak with him, Mercy replacing his uniform with those minutes prior. And thus, she rose from behind the Overlord, even stark naked she was mighty shadow of fury, and she struck down the minion as well, reclaiming her old clothing.
After helping her kingdom this many times, Mercy was tired. Her entire being was exhausted, and she merely vanished from history, her body never found, her bones never pilfered.
Mercy's own birth isn't something the world really noticed or recognized. She was born a few hundred or so years after the War of the Moon, and was brought into the world through shadows, one of the grandchildren of Osoreme, but the world didn't care for that knowledge, it wasn't important enough. She was simply born into a small town, and no one would give her a second glance.
That's exactly how she liked it as a child. When the world only glanced over her, like another mere sheep in the flock, it made her feel like she could accomplish anything without being caught. She always wore dark colors from a young age, along with her raven black hair and almost grayish skin, she was practically a shadow already. She lurked through town, alleys, streets, corridors, even her own home. She liked to be invisible to people, to feel like she was pulling seemingly invisible strings. It was one of her favorite fantasies.
One day, the sneak's mother was giving birth to her soon-to-be younger brother. Of course she was curious. A youngling to teach the ways of the shadows? Well how could she pass that up?
As fate would have it, her mother died during childbirth. It didn't really effect her, though. The shadows were Mercy's true family, these people were mere placeholders. Her younger brother had died of a sickness that had spread across town about a year later before Mercy could teach him the ways of shadows. Her father was wracked with horror, he'd sit in the study late at night, talking to himself. She liked to imagine that he spoke to her, since she would sit silently in the shadows nearby, yet she never really listened to what he was saying, the mere drone of a human voice sustained the young girl.
The plague in her town passed quickly, and seemed to pass over Mercy's family, which she was silently thankful for. You can't be very quiet if you're throwing up all the time. Everyone seemed fine only a few weeks after the mysterious disease had claimed her brother.
For the next year or so, everything went back to normal, other than her father. He was always tormented from that day on, Mercy understood why, she just lacked the empathy to comfort him, so she let him be.
Teenage Years
As Mercy matured, she fell even further in love with the shadows and the dark. She became a master thief, but only stealing small scraps of food when her twig-like body demanded she eat something. She'd move in like a breeze, and would be out just as easily. Stalking the streets, she would weave through small crowds expertly, no one even realizing she would pass and pilfer something from them, testing herself. She never needed the money, so she always swept right on by again and slipped it back.
She loved being 'invisible', just as she did when she was younger. It was amazing to be unseen, and she wanted it to stay that way. And it did, simply because no one noticed her... Everyone except a young man by the name of Cedric.
He loved watching Mercy slip through crowds. She was good at making sure that people didn't notice her, but not very good at knowing when she was being watched. He was content to simply watch.
One day, a few members of town simply dropped. of course Mercy was curious. She investigated their corpses with rapt interest. Their eyes were sunken and grey, their skin with small black splotches, and the strangest of all... Small black beetles crawled forth from their awestruck mouths, yet this new symptom only interested Mercy further.
She brought one of the bodies home in the dead of night, dissecting it like a careful surgeon, using a knife she swept from the blacksmith, some minutes prior. It was a mess, all of their innards had been turned to a fine black mesh of insects. So, she cut deeper. Large, cockroach-like creature sat, shaped and resting where normal organs would've been. Mercy wondered why they were there.
Mercy's father had left some month prior, completely forgetting about her, since the only time she was at home was for a few hours of sleep in the afternoon. She was fine with it, no one really knew she was in town anyway.
Soon though, more and more people began dying from the strange plague. Mercy's curiosity was replaced by what she knew was right. She didn't like it, but she had to investigate, and kill whatever was causing this. She lurked through town, over, under, through, around, and just like that, she knew where to go, picking up on conversations and clues like a vengeful specter.
A necromancer to the east had been abducting members of town recently, and implanting the bug in them. Luckily, the bugs weren't contagious, so only some third of the town had dropped so far. She still had time.
Within only two days, she found where the necromancer was holed up, in an old watch tower, long abandoned after the War of the Moon. She dove on in, armed with only two daggers the blacksmith's widow "gave" her. She skulked past every trap the wily necromancer had set up, and past a few others that were already there from year's past. She finally found him, robed and hooded, already impregnating another civilian.
She tugged her makeshift hood and facemask tight, leaped into the fray, and went for a stab at the necromancer. But he vanished in a puff of smoke. She wasn't a hero, but she liked the shadows, not death. This necromancer was going to be a pest to her interests and she knew it.
She chased him down only to lose him another half a dozen times, her final attempt being her sprinting down a long corridor, blades at the ready, stalking him through the darkness of flickering torches and dancing shadows. Yet he vanished after a turn at the end of the hall. She was pleased that something had finally managed to evade her for so long, yet frustrated at the same time.
Some many months later, she had finally caught him. He was in the bottom of a canyon known as The Cauldron, up to his same experiments. She had been stalking him for a few days now, making sure he had no way of evading her, plotting his movements, his patrols. She even knew the schedule in which he ate. Now was her time to strike, he didn't sleep and neither did she.
She skulked into his shadow, rising behind him with deliberate slowness, plunging both daggers into his neck. She was flooded with the ecstasy of the hunt, her prey finally dropping dead before and beneath her. She caught him in her frail-enough arms, and let his hood fall. She would finally see her mark's face.
It was her father.
He was pathetic, weakly raising a hand to swipe a bit of hair from Mercy's face and over her ear, an attempt at a loving gesture. Her limited range of emotions finally snapped, and a single tear fell onto her father.
He merely whispered how he wanted to bring his wife, Mercy's mother back, and would go to any length to do it. She dropped her father's corpse into the dirt, and simply left. Her lack of empathy kept her from too strong of emotion, yet these were the strongest she ever felt, the only person who even knew she still existed, and she murdered him. She had killed her own blood in pursuit of justice, was that really justice? Well, to her it wasn't, but she protected her home town. From that point on, she vowed to only steal and kill in the name of justice, merely because she knew it was right.
Adult Years
For many years outside of her childhood town, Mercy stole through the night, like a true daughter of Elice. She only ate when her body demanded it, and did the same with sleep and water. Her body was no temple, her body was barely even a body at this point. She might of well had been mere bone and sinew by now.
On the rare occasion she did stroll through the streets, it was in her stolen and plundered, black leather vestments. She wore a crimson hood, originally white but stained by the blood of the fallen. She was a Robin Hood of the times, stealing from nobles and bandits, and stooping into the houses of the unfortunate at night, delicately slipping the glittering coins beneath the sleeping heads of citizens.
The towns of Everia cherished the shadow that helped them all, even though no one even knew Mercy's name. This put her at peace, she could breathe again. The people loved what she did but not her, she was truly in her place.
But, as always happens, another evil swept across the land. An evil army, dominating the minds of the innocent approached, and Mercy had gotten wind of it as soon as they began invading the city she was in.
Before she could even react to the invaders, she was struck down, a knife to the back. She fell in the street, barely able to so much as crawl after her attacker, before the town was raided and ransacked.
A few weeks later, she awoke, in the midst of the king's troops, in a medical tent. Bandages surrounded her midsection and chests, and she glanced about. All of her equipment was in a neat pile at her feet. She quickly donned her armor and weapons, and stole into the night, as always.
She had no idea what was going on, nor who tried to kill her, yet she would avenge herself, and strike out into the ranks of that army, killing any leader she could get her hands on.
Final Years
Mercy struck swift and hard into the evil spawn that swept over Everia. She quickly dispatched a necromancer commander, and rid that section of the army from leadership, and not even a week later, she brutally massacred the orc that led the archers, again, leaving an entire unit defenseless, yet these kills weren't enough for her. She needed to kill the top dog.
She worked through the ranks, sneaking as she did through town, a mere shadow, not a single soldier so much as brushing against the fair assassin. She soon reached the stronghold of The Overlord.
She stole inside, leaving every soldier, civilian, and leader untouched, until she reached him.
The same man that stabbed her in the back, the one that is conquering her home, The Overlord himself.
She strolled through his throne room, right before his very eyes, not a guard nor commander in sight, and she simply turned to him, tilting her head.
He slowly rose from his seat, striding towards the confident Mercy, and suddenly, dropped to his hands and knees, his own knife plunged into the back of his neck. The Mercy that stood before him was merely her clothes on one of The Overlord's minions, who was coming to speak with him, Mercy replacing his uniform with those minutes prior. And thus, she rose from behind the Overlord, even stark naked she was mighty shadow of fury, and she struck down the minion as well, reclaiming her old clothing.
After helping her kingdom this many times, Mercy was tired. Her entire being was exhausted, and she merely vanished from history, her body never found, her bones never pilfered.
Lance Montague - Valkyr's Idol
Early Years
Even since birth, Lance was quiet the adventurer. He'd climb from his mother's arms to explore the house, he learned to run before he could walk, he'd even climb trees before the age of five. His parents, an elf and a human, knew that he would be different from other children, after all, he was a half-elf.
But that didn't stop Lance. He went to school, as the other children did. The town he resided in was large, so scholars were common, but even with two parents, an aunt, and three sisters that were scholars, he never fit in with his classmates.
He'd always study the ancient warriors of Ellesma, dancing about with whip-like weapons; he'd look at great mosaics of angels battling demons, studying the various forms of carnage that both sides pursued; sometimes he'd even sneak away from school to the barracks and training grounds, watching new guards alike strike with vicious intent at combat dummies and sometimes even at one another.
That was his calling.
When he reached the age of roughly twelve, his parents knew that there had to be a change, that he was no scholar. So, they let him choose. Without a moment of hesitation, he declared that he wanted to be a knight, and so his parents purchased him a set of iron armor and sent him to his new education.
Teenage Years
Within a year of attending his new school, a thirteen year old Lance could already ride better than some of the veterans, his prowess with lances excelled to the point where when he was fifteen, he participated in jousts and won his school so much gold, they actually began to donate to their students.
At the age of sixteen, they taught him how to use a blade. He flailed when using a shortblade, simply too muscular to effectively use the precision weapon. With a longsword, he broke the blade before even getting ten hits out of it. And even with a claymore he would swing so ferociously the entire blade would shatter before a week was up. So his instructors had an idea.
Lance was to use a lance, but no ordinary lance, he was to use Valkyr's Spear, a holy relic from the before the crusades. It was massive, and heavy enough to topple a house, yet Lance wielded it like it was second nature.
Lance could no longer ride a horse while he was armed, for it would crush the beast; he could no longer charge into battle alongside his allies, for he'd skewer them; and he could certainly not defend the town, he'd break too many homes.
So the school, again, had to get creative.
Once he reached the age of seventeen, and could pierce an apple from twenty feet away with his lance, Lance was instated as a dragon slayer. He would live in the castle, be treated like royalty, and train daily. His parents were more than proud, yet he declined the offer.
Lance couldn't imagine harming a dragon, not only were they too powerful, but he had a secretive wanderlust about the beasts. He'd sooner ride a dragon than slay one.
Adult Years
Which is exactly what Lance did. After three years of various small-time beast slaying careers, Lance had beheaded several Medusa, he had slaughtered Chimera left and right, he had even struck down a massive demon that an evil necromancer had summoned. He was called upon for a new mission, a new hunt to say the least. When he arrived at his destination, expecting an ogre or a giant, he instead found a massive dragon; it was a majestic, colossal beast of insane proportions. It could eat his entire house if it wished.
With scales like glittering gold and silver, and wings large enough to black out the sun, Lance knew what he must do. He struck a deal with the dragon. He would not slay the dragon, as he was sure he could, so long as he could mount the dragon in combat as one would a horse, and the two would be a mighty foe for the opposing armies. For, a dragon and a man wielding Valkyr's Spear are already an army intertwined together, working for one side in a war would definitely set the odds.
But, the dragon refused. It enjoyed its languid lifestyle. After a bit of thought, Lance had a new idea. He struck another deal with the dragon, claiming its firstborn, so long as it wouldn't attack Lance's home. The only reason he won the bargain, was because the dragon noticed the relic in the man's hand from the start.
So, a deal was struck, and Lance soon claimed a massive golden egg for himself.
While setting off on various hunts and assaults of castles, Lance called upon a friend from his childhood, an elf named Lucetta. She was a powerful sorceress, and if he trusted anyone with protecting his egg, it was Lucetta.
She watched the egg carefully, keeping it warm with blasts of fire, and accelerating its growth with spells and charms and rituals.
Within five years, the egg hatched, revealing the glorious golden dragon within. But, to Lance's dismay, it would not be of a proper riding size for another two hundred years, even with magic. But Lance couldn't wait, he wouldn't live that long, so he found another powerful mage, Vicis was his name, and had Vicis hurl the knight forward in time with a powerful ritual.
Later Years
The spell had worked! Lance found himself in a practically new kingdom!
However, this kingdom was certainly not his home. It was gloomy, buildings were burnt, and the townspeople were starving. When he had left, they were winning the war, no other army could equate to the sheer size of theirs.
So, he searched for an answer, he asked people that now spoke a foreign tongue. He investigated castles alike, but when he finally found his answer, he was anything but excited.
His dragon, under the command of an evil wizard, Udarr, had terrorized the countryside, burning up villages alike and devouring townspeople. Lucetta had battled valiantly, but was defeated in saving her daughter, Luna, from the onslaught, with a powerful spell of protection and concealment.
So Udarr had reigned supreme for fifty years, the only threat on the horizon was Luna, for as an adult, she would be a powerful sorceress like her mother. Udarr had hundreds of troops, mostly horrible beings from another realm, even worse than the most vile orcs, scan the countryside, searching for Luna and her likely rebellion.
They had yet to find her, but time was running short. Rumor held that Udarr was close to unveiling the sorceress and her army of rebels. Lance had to help!
He charged to where the confrontation was rumored to happen, in the mountains to the far north. On the way, he met a young rogue. She looked frail and new, yet she struck with deadly precision. And she shared her plan with Lance. A war was being waged in the far east, in Ellesma, and Udarr would be struck down if he were to participate. So he let the remaining kingdoms of Everia battle the Ellesmans, in the hopes that both would be wiped out.
But one of Valkyr's children had begun assault there, attacking both sides of the war, tricking and slaughtering them. His time was running short, and Everia's armies would return. But if they returned to Udarr and his commander, the Overlord, then all would surely be lost.
So, she was to strike down the Overlord. In the meantime, Lance would head to the frozen peaks of the north to stop Udarr and find Luna. The two heroes went their separate ways. Lance had quite the journey ahead of him.
He slayed giants and werewolves and witches before finally reaching the mountains. And as soon as cresting atop a larger mountain, he saw the armies clashing. Udarr's hideous fiends struck out at an army of Frost Queens and pale humans. The battle was fierce, but Lance had a purpose, so he barreled down the mountain, into what would likely be his final battle.
He launched himself into the fray, screaming out, "For Luna!" Both sides frozen for a moment as the knight approached, suddenly crashing into the fiend army with a thunderous burst of energy, throwing their ranks about like playthings.
The battle was dispatched shortly as soon as Lance entered the fray, his mere presence enough to ward off the fiends. But this battle was not over, not yet.
He saw the dragon that he had hoped to mount on the horizon, approaching quickly. Udarr was upon its back, stormclouds gathering above. Lance grew furious, his dragon, his kingdom, and his friends had been killed by this man, he would not stand for this.
So in a shot of pure heroism, Lance propelled himself into the wizard, straight over the misguided dragon's back, and slew the spellcaster.
Final Years
He sat in the aftermath of the battle for a longtime, Luna soon thanking him for his help. They sent the dragon off to Ellesma, for if it were to stay in Everia, the citizens would likely grow furious. With the old king dead, and no one willing to take the position, Lance became king. But he did something few expected, he made Luna his adviser.
He crafted a new castle in the center of Everia, naming it Maginite. There, he rose the greatest capitol the world had known, Luna by his side. Luna's younger sister also stayed in the castle for a many years, and the kingdom grew to what it is today.
And after Lance's death, he bore an heir, Gerald, who bore the first heiress that Everia had seen, Tychia, who bore the next king, William, who married a noblewoman, Rosette.
And now, Rosette rules over Everia, William slain by a Titan's wrath.
So, Lance was the first ruler of all of Everia, uniting the entire continent after Udarr's reign, and began solidifying peace with their Ellesman cousins.
Even since birth, Lance was quiet the adventurer. He'd climb from his mother's arms to explore the house, he learned to run before he could walk, he'd even climb trees before the age of five. His parents, an elf and a human, knew that he would be different from other children, after all, he was a half-elf.
But that didn't stop Lance. He went to school, as the other children did. The town he resided in was large, so scholars were common, but even with two parents, an aunt, and three sisters that were scholars, he never fit in with his classmates.
He'd always study the ancient warriors of Ellesma, dancing about with whip-like weapons; he'd look at great mosaics of angels battling demons, studying the various forms of carnage that both sides pursued; sometimes he'd even sneak away from school to the barracks and training grounds, watching new guards alike strike with vicious intent at combat dummies and sometimes even at one another.
That was his calling.
When he reached the age of roughly twelve, his parents knew that there had to be a change, that he was no scholar. So, they let him choose. Without a moment of hesitation, he declared that he wanted to be a knight, and so his parents purchased him a set of iron armor and sent him to his new education.
Teenage Years
Within a year of attending his new school, a thirteen year old Lance could already ride better than some of the veterans, his prowess with lances excelled to the point where when he was fifteen, he participated in jousts and won his school so much gold, they actually began to donate to their students.
At the age of sixteen, they taught him how to use a blade. He flailed when using a shortblade, simply too muscular to effectively use the precision weapon. With a longsword, he broke the blade before even getting ten hits out of it. And even with a claymore he would swing so ferociously the entire blade would shatter before a week was up. So his instructors had an idea.
Lance was to use a lance, but no ordinary lance, he was to use Valkyr's Spear, a holy relic from the before the crusades. It was massive, and heavy enough to topple a house, yet Lance wielded it like it was second nature.
Lance could no longer ride a horse while he was armed, for it would crush the beast; he could no longer charge into battle alongside his allies, for he'd skewer them; and he could certainly not defend the town, he'd break too many homes.
So the school, again, had to get creative.
Once he reached the age of seventeen, and could pierce an apple from twenty feet away with his lance, Lance was instated as a dragon slayer. He would live in the castle, be treated like royalty, and train daily. His parents were more than proud, yet he declined the offer.
Lance couldn't imagine harming a dragon, not only were they too powerful, but he had a secretive wanderlust about the beasts. He'd sooner ride a dragon than slay one.
Adult Years
Which is exactly what Lance did. After three years of various small-time beast slaying careers, Lance had beheaded several Medusa, he had slaughtered Chimera left and right, he had even struck down a massive demon that an evil necromancer had summoned. He was called upon for a new mission, a new hunt to say the least. When he arrived at his destination, expecting an ogre or a giant, he instead found a massive dragon; it was a majestic, colossal beast of insane proportions. It could eat his entire house if it wished.
With scales like glittering gold and silver, and wings large enough to black out the sun, Lance knew what he must do. He struck a deal with the dragon. He would not slay the dragon, as he was sure he could, so long as he could mount the dragon in combat as one would a horse, and the two would be a mighty foe for the opposing armies. For, a dragon and a man wielding Valkyr's Spear are already an army intertwined together, working for one side in a war would definitely set the odds.
But, the dragon refused. It enjoyed its languid lifestyle. After a bit of thought, Lance had a new idea. He struck another deal with the dragon, claiming its firstborn, so long as it wouldn't attack Lance's home. The only reason he won the bargain, was because the dragon noticed the relic in the man's hand from the start.
So, a deal was struck, and Lance soon claimed a massive golden egg for himself.
While setting off on various hunts and assaults of castles, Lance called upon a friend from his childhood, an elf named Lucetta. She was a powerful sorceress, and if he trusted anyone with protecting his egg, it was Lucetta.
She watched the egg carefully, keeping it warm with blasts of fire, and accelerating its growth with spells and charms and rituals.
Within five years, the egg hatched, revealing the glorious golden dragon within. But, to Lance's dismay, it would not be of a proper riding size for another two hundred years, even with magic. But Lance couldn't wait, he wouldn't live that long, so he found another powerful mage, Vicis was his name, and had Vicis hurl the knight forward in time with a powerful ritual.
Later Years
The spell had worked! Lance found himself in a practically new kingdom!
However, this kingdom was certainly not his home. It was gloomy, buildings were burnt, and the townspeople were starving. When he had left, they were winning the war, no other army could equate to the sheer size of theirs.
So, he searched for an answer, he asked people that now spoke a foreign tongue. He investigated castles alike, but when he finally found his answer, he was anything but excited.
His dragon, under the command of an evil wizard, Udarr, had terrorized the countryside, burning up villages alike and devouring townspeople. Lucetta had battled valiantly, but was defeated in saving her daughter, Luna, from the onslaught, with a powerful spell of protection and concealment.
So Udarr had reigned supreme for fifty years, the only threat on the horizon was Luna, for as an adult, she would be a powerful sorceress like her mother. Udarr had hundreds of troops, mostly horrible beings from another realm, even worse than the most vile orcs, scan the countryside, searching for Luna and her likely rebellion.
They had yet to find her, but time was running short. Rumor held that Udarr was close to unveiling the sorceress and her army of rebels. Lance had to help!
He charged to where the confrontation was rumored to happen, in the mountains to the far north. On the way, he met a young rogue. She looked frail and new, yet she struck with deadly precision. And she shared her plan with Lance. A war was being waged in the far east, in Ellesma, and Udarr would be struck down if he were to participate. So he let the remaining kingdoms of Everia battle the Ellesmans, in the hopes that both would be wiped out.
But one of Valkyr's children had begun assault there, attacking both sides of the war, tricking and slaughtering them. His time was running short, and Everia's armies would return. But if they returned to Udarr and his commander, the Overlord, then all would surely be lost.
So, she was to strike down the Overlord. In the meantime, Lance would head to the frozen peaks of the north to stop Udarr and find Luna. The two heroes went their separate ways. Lance had quite the journey ahead of him.
He slayed giants and werewolves and witches before finally reaching the mountains. And as soon as cresting atop a larger mountain, he saw the armies clashing. Udarr's hideous fiends struck out at an army of Frost Queens and pale humans. The battle was fierce, but Lance had a purpose, so he barreled down the mountain, into what would likely be his final battle.
He launched himself into the fray, screaming out, "For Luna!" Both sides frozen for a moment as the knight approached, suddenly crashing into the fiend army with a thunderous burst of energy, throwing their ranks about like playthings.
The battle was dispatched shortly as soon as Lance entered the fray, his mere presence enough to ward off the fiends. But this battle was not over, not yet.
He saw the dragon that he had hoped to mount on the horizon, approaching quickly. Udarr was upon its back, stormclouds gathering above. Lance grew furious, his dragon, his kingdom, and his friends had been killed by this man, he would not stand for this.
So in a shot of pure heroism, Lance propelled himself into the wizard, straight over the misguided dragon's back, and slew the spellcaster.
Final Years
He sat in the aftermath of the battle for a longtime, Luna soon thanking him for his help. They sent the dragon off to Ellesma, for if it were to stay in Everia, the citizens would likely grow furious. With the old king dead, and no one willing to take the position, Lance became king. But he did something few expected, he made Luna his adviser.
He crafted a new castle in the center of Everia, naming it Maginite. There, he rose the greatest capitol the world had known, Luna by his side. Luna's younger sister also stayed in the castle for a many years, and the kingdom grew to what it is today.
And after Lance's death, he bore an heir, Gerald, who bore the first heiress that Everia had seen, Tychia, who bore the next king, William, who married a noblewoman, Rosette.
And now, Rosette rules over Everia, William slain by a Titan's wrath.
So, Lance was the first ruler of all of Everia, uniting the entire continent after Udarr's reign, and began solidifying peace with their Ellesman cousins.
Geoff - Nature's Bane
DESCRIPTION TO COME LATER
Benjamin OdinShield (Guardian of All) and Nicholi (The Invisible Hero)
From a young age, Benjamin was always at home in the mountains of Ellesma. His dwarven family protecting him. He had six siblings, four brothers and two sisters, and was the eldest child, soon to inherit the Lordship that his father had.
But life was never that easy. The dwarven home of Tarvan's Reach. The young man was sent out into the world, only able to hope that his family was still alive.
He took to it bitterly, but still defended those he saw fit to defend, joining with a rogue named Nicholi.
Nicholi didn't so much as remember the morning of meeting Benjamin, but using his Elven know-how, he quickly took to the team-mate.
While they didn't get along, they succeeded in many trials.
They bested Eliza's temple, braving it and emerging with barely a scratch, striking down several prophets who foretold and actively sought the downfall of Everia.
They then braved the Lich known as Vul'Tor, striking him down in three massive showdowns, escaping death in Maginite and saving the people of Barrenhoff and Middlemist.
After almost leveling the town of Barrenhoff, the duo purchased and ruled it from a distance. The town boomed from a minor port to the massive thing it is today, only rivaled in Everia by Maginite.
But, life wouldn't be that easy for our heroes. The second Lich of the Arcane Legacies rose up, Jun'Tor, and began wreaking havoc across Everia.
The duo brought him down as they did the first, delving through the deep ruins of Tarvan's Reach, bringing up awful memories for the dwarven Shieldmaster.
The final Lich then rose, announcing himself to the World's Counsel in Maginite. Queen Zephyr of Everia's humans and King Skysong of the Aurorians were the only two to escape and survive. The Lich reigned over Everia, posing as the king with magic and enchantments, the people forced into a bloody war with the neighboring dwarves and Aurorians.
The war lurched on for almost a month before the duo finally figured the Lich out and struck him down, the showdown taking place in front of Ylph's fountain. The two fought valiantly, but the Lich ultimately got the knowledge he wanted, pure immortality, and sought that.
The duo chased him down to the coldest reaches of Ellesma, with several Frost Queen aiding their endeavors. Nicholi went off to find the Lich's soul, while the rest went to confront him before he immortalized himself.
As the battle reached its peak, and Benjamin was left alone among the scattered corpses of his companions, Nicholi shattered the house sized gem that contained the Lich's soul, and the being crumbled away.
The duo then split up, their goals conflicting into utter chaos.
Nicholi went on to create his own guild of thieves and rogues, "The Shadows Under Our Feet", and Benjamin went back to ruling Barrenhoff.
Nicholi perished some month later as he fell victim to a vicious trap in a dwarven ruin, guarding the vast wealth that rested inside.
Benjamin rescued orphans from the maws of dragons, he stopped floods from crushing cities, her fed entire villages and stopped hundreds of bandits after Nicholi died.
Benjamin survived long enough to encounter the Elder Evil Croisis' minions. He struck down the Volcanic Scourge and The Trampled Man, yet The Girl with a Knife in her Chest struck the Shieldmaster down in the climax of their battle.
He went down with a dying breath, using a section of The Vorago itself to seal the rising Croisis away in Hazza's tomb, hopefully forever, yet he knew that someday, some other hero would be forced to fight the being of doom.
But life was never that easy. The dwarven home of Tarvan's Reach. The young man was sent out into the world, only able to hope that his family was still alive.
He took to it bitterly, but still defended those he saw fit to defend, joining with a rogue named Nicholi.
Nicholi didn't so much as remember the morning of meeting Benjamin, but using his Elven know-how, he quickly took to the team-mate.
While they didn't get along, they succeeded in many trials.
They bested Eliza's temple, braving it and emerging with barely a scratch, striking down several prophets who foretold and actively sought the downfall of Everia.
They then braved the Lich known as Vul'Tor, striking him down in three massive showdowns, escaping death in Maginite and saving the people of Barrenhoff and Middlemist.
After almost leveling the town of Barrenhoff, the duo purchased and ruled it from a distance. The town boomed from a minor port to the massive thing it is today, only rivaled in Everia by Maginite.
But, life wouldn't be that easy for our heroes. The second Lich of the Arcane Legacies rose up, Jun'Tor, and began wreaking havoc across Everia.
The duo brought him down as they did the first, delving through the deep ruins of Tarvan's Reach, bringing up awful memories for the dwarven Shieldmaster.
The final Lich then rose, announcing himself to the World's Counsel in Maginite. Queen Zephyr of Everia's humans and King Skysong of the Aurorians were the only two to escape and survive. The Lich reigned over Everia, posing as the king with magic and enchantments, the people forced into a bloody war with the neighboring dwarves and Aurorians.
The war lurched on for almost a month before the duo finally figured the Lich out and struck him down, the showdown taking place in front of Ylph's fountain. The two fought valiantly, but the Lich ultimately got the knowledge he wanted, pure immortality, and sought that.
The duo chased him down to the coldest reaches of Ellesma, with several Frost Queen aiding their endeavors. Nicholi went off to find the Lich's soul, while the rest went to confront him before he immortalized himself.
As the battle reached its peak, and Benjamin was left alone among the scattered corpses of his companions, Nicholi shattered the house sized gem that contained the Lich's soul, and the being crumbled away.
The duo then split up, their goals conflicting into utter chaos.
Nicholi went on to create his own guild of thieves and rogues, "The Shadows Under Our Feet", and Benjamin went back to ruling Barrenhoff.
Nicholi perished some month later as he fell victim to a vicious trap in a dwarven ruin, guarding the vast wealth that rested inside.
Benjamin rescued orphans from the maws of dragons, he stopped floods from crushing cities, her fed entire villages and stopped hundreds of bandits after Nicholi died.
Benjamin survived long enough to encounter the Elder Evil Croisis' minions. He struck down the Volcanic Scourge and The Trampled Man, yet The Girl with a Knife in her Chest struck the Shieldmaster down in the climax of their battle.
He went down with a dying breath, using a section of The Vorago itself to seal the rising Croisis away in Hazza's tomb, hopefully forever, yet he knew that someday, some other hero would be forced to fight the being of doom.
Heroes of Myth
While there are many heroes that people know their lives from start to finish, there are some that still wander about today, despite being hundreds of years old. They are known as heroes of myth, things only mentioned in fables and stories, rarely if ever showing themselves in society.
They have not only made names and titles for themselves, but have excelled beyond the standings of regular heroes, to a truly superb status.
They have not only made names and titles for themselves, but have excelled beyond the standings of regular heroes, to a truly superb status.
Ilphu - The Frozen Swordsman
Ilphu, serious and silent. He is known as a mere ghost of a hero, rumored to only appear in times of dire need then vanish before anyone can so much as thank him. While many dismiss mere rumors, he is rumored to be the only ever male Frost Queen, merely his name shunned like a plague among the race of females.
He is frost personified, giving those around him the cold shoulder, and never saying so much as a word if it isn't an incantation to one of his powerful spells. He wields a blade that looks as if crafted from frosted glass, and his attacks follow in close step.
Some rumors claim that he grants wishes to those who can best him in battle, others say that he is so fast, his victims only feel a chill then drop dead.
While only speculation surrounds this mysterious swordsman, his name is still feared throughout the world of Bennick, most people thinking that merely uttering the name is enough to put oneself on his list of marks.
He is frost personified, giving those around him the cold shoulder, and never saying so much as a word if it isn't an incantation to one of his powerful spells. He wields a blade that looks as if crafted from frosted glass, and his attacks follow in close step.
Some rumors claim that he grants wishes to those who can best him in battle, others say that he is so fast, his victims only feel a chill then drop dead.
While only speculation surrounds this mysterious swordsman, his name is still feared throughout the world of Bennick, most people thinking that merely uttering the name is enough to put oneself on his list of marks.
Rysha - The Blazing Amazoness
Frequently mistaken for an Ignian, this stunning, nine foot woman is known as the caring hero Rysha. She charges into battle with a pike of pure flames, sometimes wielding a shortspear in either hand, her flames cascading into battle in the pursuit of justice.
She is known to be all the good aspects of flames: warmth, safety, warding. She warms the injured, bolsters her allies, and incinerates those who oppose her will and cause. While she isn't exactly a streak of lightning, her ballistic force and overpowering will are enough to at least bombard an enemy.
Rumors spin that she only appears to guide and protect children, while others say she only appears to humble narcissistic heroes alike. Many believe that she is the human reincarnation of Valkyr himself, or one of his more powerful children, while others demand that she is a being crafted from The Vorago, and thus exists everywhere, in everyone.
Rysha is one of few Heroes of Myth that the people of Bennick knows exists, but plenty of rumors and speculation follow her around, none knowing much.
She is known to be all the good aspects of flames: warmth, safety, warding. She warms the injured, bolsters her allies, and incinerates those who oppose her will and cause. While she isn't exactly a streak of lightning, her ballistic force and overpowering will are enough to at least bombard an enemy.
Rumors spin that she only appears to guide and protect children, while others say she only appears to humble narcissistic heroes alike. Many believe that she is the human reincarnation of Valkyr himself, or one of his more powerful children, while others demand that she is a being crafted from The Vorago, and thus exists everywhere, in everyone.
Rysha is one of few Heroes of Myth that the people of Bennick knows exists, but plenty of rumors and speculation follow her around, none knowing much.
Tiduk - The Ocean's Fury
This will be written in due time.