I dropped my keys in the cooling pool
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- Primarily Prefer Female
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- SCREW THIS. I'M CHAOTIC STUPID. I LOWER MY TROUSERS AND WIZZ ON THE KING.
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- Surrealism, Surreal Horror (Think Tim Burton), Steampunk, Sci-Fi Fantasy, Spaghetti Westerns, Mercenaries, Dieselpunk, Cyberpunk, Historical fantasies
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- Yaoi or Furrisms, DnD, High Fantasy, romance. Straight up Horror.
Sword of Embera: The Cytulius Requiem
All this occurred during the dark years following the fall of ancient Zeledin….
It was an epic struggle between the Faye Kingdom of Cytulius and a foreign foe called the Relliniana.
The Reliniana Empire often clashed violently with the Faye; land, wealth, power, these all blur together, obscuring the reasons for this war into a blood filled smear. For ages these two kingdoms have fought. Warlords and Generals were constantly struck down with each passing week!
It was soon known that the Faye’s numbers were fading, while the other kingdom was buying support from the clandestine organization called The Requiem.
A human blacksmith named Feltrok, joined the war. He sided with the Faye, whom where desperate for warriors and blacksmiths. But the years of fighting have taken their toll and the materials from war were running thin. The Faye had to resort to take the shattered weapons of the fallen to make new weapons.
This blacksmith found an odd look item wedged into the trunk of a tree and took it. Not knowing what else to do with the item and the desperation for weapon material growing, Feltrok melted down the material and forged it into a blade.
But the blade seemed have an odd essence, one which didn't seem to belong to this world at all; a rational spirit with-in it. When used in battle, the blade seemed like could predict the strikes of the enemies.
Regardless, Feltrok took this weapon as his own; even, if this weapon wasn't ready for war. He would rather he die by his own creation then let another die in due to his mistake.
It was an epic battle they would have to face next, the Battle of Kisnu Bridge; the last place before the fight would move into the Faye kingdom. Many fought, many died, but the Requiem seemed to rend the battle field, destroying any in their path. After days of fighting, the Faye numbers were bare while the other kingdom still had the Requiem to reinforce their lines.
Being one of the last soldiers standing, Feltrok took charge of a small band of soldiers, charging full at an entire band of Requiem. One by one, Feltrok's men met with a hasty death, until it was only Feltrok himself that was left alive. He stood alone, face to face with the white shroud that was a Requiem.
He did not notice, but his odd blade began to glow a strange hue as he fought the Requiem.
A female soldier left her guard down for a second, was vulnerable and Feltrok's blade found its way through her heart. As Feltrok began to pull the sword out of the Requiem's chest, he found that it would not give. With more Requiems coming, Feltrok had no time pull out the sword, so left the weapon behind and retreated to fight another day.
Feltrok had left so quickly that he didn't even bother to look at the face of the person he killed. The hood slid back and revealed a young woman, her face filled with tears as she lay dying...
The reason she stopped...
The secret she kept from everyone...
Even from the man she loved...
Had began to move.
There was no way for Feltrok to notice...
Now, there was liquid that stained the battle field...
The young warrior's water broke just as she was fighting Feltrok...
Her heart was ripped apart, knowing the aggressor's blade that would be her death. However, she was determined that her child would live.
The battle was over; the Faye had won this battle, to the shock of everyone, partially due to the fact that Feltrok has stolen the Requiem's powerful weapons and used it against the Requiem to turn the tide of the war.
When human Soul Cleansers came to collect the bodies, they found a small, recently born child along the corpse of its dead mother. The Soul Cleansers hurried to aid the child, noticing that there was a blade that had killed the child's mother. It was glowing strangely; surely the sign of something holy.
Years past and the child grew up to be known as Joshua, a quiet, some what distant youth who always seemed to be miles away. Though no one said it out loud, everyone treated Joshua like an outcast, the children, the adults; even the animals around the area did not take well to him, making the young lad feel more and more alienated with his life...
The only thing he has a reminder of his family, is the strange Sword of Embera....