This is Albion. A land that was once protected by heroes who shaped the world and its destiny. Years ago a darkness came to it, but a hero rose to the throne and led the people against it, conquering The Crawler and its shadows. The Corruptor sought entry into this lush land to lead the corruption on its all consuming path, but even when heroes were no longer born, it was still vanquished by a hero that was made.
These events have left behind scars. Some places were completely decimated, innovation has been slowed to a crawl, gunpowder has become harder to acquire, ignorance and violence have taken root, and the dangers to this land have evolved. The hero king has past, and many forget the old legends. They say that the age of heroes is dead.
But this is Albion. And even without the king, heirs, or the blood lines, there will ALWAYS be heroes to protect it.
Brightwall
Our story begins like many others; with a boy that is to become a man, who has little idea of the importance he plays.
"Get up, Lazy Ass!" Marcus yelled out a insult to his older brother who was laying in the soft grass within the shade of the Brightwall Library. Seth roused himself from his day dream, a large smile cut across his face like a sword cutting in a long arc through the air.
"Sure thing." Inside his head a plan was taking shape among the ambiguous labyrinth of information. It held no real purpose say his own entertainment, and to test to see how well he could predict his brothers actions.
"Why do you always lie down on the grass in public? It's just weird." Marcus shook his head at what he considered stupidity. He could be very apathetic, and cynical at times.
To Seth's credit, he didn't ALWAYS spread out in the grass: however, this was a semi secluded spot, where the ground was comfortable and soft. He occasionally would lie down there for the nice view, the quiet, and being close to the library (there were few quite like it in all of Albion and beyond).
"Why don't you take a seat and find out?" Seth patted a soft area of grass by him. Marcus was particularly grumpy right now, mainly because he was being forced to fetch his brother and do choirs, so he was unconsciously looking for a reason to insult his brother.
Marcus shook his head in distain. "God you're stupid."
This began the first part of Seth's plan. He just smiled pleasantly and said, "Love you too, little brother."
Marcus rolled his eyes and seemed to seep cynicism. This began the next part of Seth's plan. He came over to his younger brother and tried to hug him. "Hey." Marcus' condescending demeanor was broken for a second, Seth usually applied this method when he wanted the little cynic to shut his demon door and stop insulting him. He made another grab at Marcus, this time getting his skinny arms around the slender boy, "Hey, back off. I said back off!" Both Seth and Marcus were rather skinny in build (though Marcus was considered the athlete of the family), that was just hereditary. Seth lifted his little brother off the ground, and despite natural 14 year old teen angst, a smile spread on Marcus' face, flashing white teeth to the world in a single twitch of muscle. It was a wonderful smile that him and all the siblings shared, and when Seth saw it on his grumpy brother, it was as if the birds chirped a little louder, and the sun shown a little brighter in appreciation of that smile signifying two brothers growing a little closer.
Marcus couldn't stop himself from laughing just a little bit, though he DID try. "Put me down, Ass."
Seth gently placed his brother on the ground and unwrapped his arms from him. "Thanks."
"So what's up?"
Marcus regained his composure. "We've got choirs to do. Mom and Dad want us to get to it. I'll meet you by the bridge out of town in a few minutes." With that, Marcus turned around and left.
Seth stretched his back, inhaling to warm autumn air. Summer had just pasted and it was beginning to grow colder, but today was particularly warm, the sunlight reflecting off the tree leaves of yellow, orange, and red, the warmth and light giving all the area around Brightwall the appearance of being ablaze with a soft and pleasant fire. He set off into the heart of town, his unique and shiny eyes reflecting the fiery colors of the trees and the natural colors that his eyes carried. He whistled a little bit, but soon lost interest.
Over the years Brightwall had lost a little of it's luster, though the younger generation did not know how glorious it used to be. The people still went about there lives, but bandit attacks had spiked recently for some reason, and trade into and out of the small town was stimmt because of it. The library of Brightwall still stood proud and beautiful, but that was mainly because upper class citizens from other cities had taken money out of their pocket and invested in it, so that they could continue to posses a higher education. The librarian had given Seth personal lessons when he was younger and had more difficulty reading than the other children in his class. He would not have taken a interest in young Seth and have just written him off as a slow boy who wasn't particularly interested in learning, but upon the request of his parents the librarian had examined Seth. What he found was that Seth was actually much more smart than many of the other children his age, and sometimes exhibited a hunger for knowledge. The poor child just had trouble reading (Seth had dyslexia). Seth began his lessons with him at the age of 9 and could barely read a word, but now at 17 he was more literate than most of the people in Brightwall.
The libertarian had even began recommending books from his private collection, under the condition that they be returned to him once he was finished. He was going to drop it off before he met his brother, and he didn't even have to go to the library, because the librarian, Tobias, was in the town center collecting groceries. "Mr. Greyson." The boy called out and ran up to his old mentor, a book he had finished in his hands. Tobias Greyson turn his head and saw him approaching.
"Seth. I see you've finished the Legends of Scythe, nothing but mindless superstition and drabble about a zombie who could cast spells, CAST SPELLS! Can you image the things that people used to believe? I don't know how or why a historian as respected as Wallace McDogpants could write about this ghost as if he was real."
Seth couldn't suppress a giggle at the name of. It was just such a ridiculous name, though it wasn't the one he was born with. Wallace had changed it hoping to gain recognition amoung the historian community, if not for his skill, than for his name. His original choice in names was McSmartypants, but someone had already beat him to it.
Seth was always first to defend magic when Tobias insulted the concept. "You're the one who told me that all myths have a basis in reality."
"I was referring to the legends of heroes. The concept of Will is just ridiculous."
"Hash scarfing, flabberwonker! What do you know?" The oldest (and possibly grumpiest) citizen of Brightwall came hobbling over to them. "The hero king was a will user, and a damn powerful one at that! I fought at his side during the revolution, I saw the man blow up-"
"Blow up a "whole bloody platoon." You've spun your old war stories before Benjamin Finn, and they also include him beating a giant hallow man, and driving back a legion of shadows. All of them as preposterous as the last." Ben's eyes seaved with hate. No one who had lived though the darkness would EVER mock it.
Seth decided it was best not to intrude on the coming debate of 'philosophy' between the two seasoned minds. "Sirs, I'd love to stay here and chat...but I promised to help my brother." He said this as he slowly took a few steps back, then turned around and briskly walked away. He could hear the bickering between the skeptic and the veteran as he turned the corner on the cobblestone road.
His brisk walk turned into a jog as his long legs carried him to where he needed to go, much like the wind would carry seeds for miles until they came to rest where fate saw fit. Near the bridge leading out of the town, Seth caught the first glance of his brother, waiting patiently for him to arrive. He had stopped by the families mailbox and was flipping through letters when he looked up at the tall young man who's blood he shared.
"There you are bro. A letter arrived for you." Marcus waved a yellowed envelop in front of him. He handed it to Seth, then turned and started walking out onto the weathered bridge. "The first thing Mom wants us to do is pick a few barrels of apples."
In the last two decades a apple orchard had been planted and began to flourish. Because the population of Brightwall had began to dwindle, they usually had more than enough apples to go around and people could harvest them for free after a certain point in the season. There mother had taken to stalking up their pantry for the winter with things made from those apples.
Seth started to walk after Marcus, while he opened the letter and read in his head.
"What's it say?"
A grin curved on Seth's face as he read the words silently to himself. "It's a letter from Wyatt. He's coming all the way from Bowerstone in a few weeks." Wyatt was Seth's best friend, the two boys having known each other for longer than either could remember.
"Great. Is that it?"
"No, he says thanks for the birthday gift I mailed him about a month ago, and that he hasn't had a sharpening stone that good in years. He's also trying to get a job in the Bowerstone guards. He's even enrolled in a few sword lessons, though he thinks the teacher's a, and I quote, "a half death idiot who spends all his time talking about the revolution he fought in, but I'm pretty sure he was never in any revolution to begin with, who can't tell the butt of the sword from the blade."' Seth laughed, this was definitely Wyatt writing to him.
"Can't wait for him to show up." Marcus had also laughed, and was just as excited at the prospect of Wyatt's arrival. The brothers walked in silence after that, occasionally joking about Ben and Tobias' fighting. They arrived at the apple orchard that was less than a mile from Brightwall, the scent of the wilderness that was carried down from the mountains became mixed with the apples, it was very pleasant. "Man, this is going to suck." Marcus was never too keen on hard work, and would often go out of his way to avoid it. In this case all he did to push it off was gab an apple, sit down, and started eating it. "Lets take a break before we start."
"Yes, because that makes so much sense." Seth said sarcastically, completely joking. He grabbed his own apple and bit into it, the flavorful juices spreading on his tongue soon went running down his throat.
Marcus looked at the apples in the trees, to the cart resting by the side of the road that they were suppose to fill with the fruit, and then to his brother. A mischievous smile revealing his teeth.
"What's that smile for?"
"I was just thinking... YOU could probably get all the the work done in ten minutes tops, with that talent of yours."
"Not happening." Seth said with resolution. "People are paranoid, they ran a women out of town because a little girl said "Nanny's a balverine."'
Marcus didn't seem very amused "She WAS a balverine."
"Yes...but that's not the point. People have been looking for reasons to get violent. I heard that the Dwellers had a witch trial last week, can you image what they'd do to me?"
"Seth..." The younger brother made a motion to the world around them. "There's no one here...you don't even have to use it like that, I just want to see something...Please?"
Seth looked around him, then gave in. "Okay, but keep in mind I don't exactly get to practice. Also, be ready to hit the deck, after last time I don't want another accident. And stay on look out, let me know if you see ANYONE."
"No problem!" Marcus immediate sprang up and checked to see if anyone was around. "All clear, Seth."
He inhaled deeply, and motioned to a weather vain on top of a nearby shack, making sure Marcus knew that was his target. He raised his right hand, extending it to the cold iron weather compus, he concentrated on it and it alone. Slowly, ever so slowly, the weather vain began to turn clockwise on its perch above the shack. Seth smiled as it started to move, he then increased the flow of energy between him and it causing the object of his concentration to move faster, until it moved in a steady hum. Though he was performing magic before his brother's amazement filled eyes, it was difficult. The flow of his will was hard to grasp, almost like directing a slightly solid liquid in a sea of itself, where the smallest ripple from the will-user could shift the direction and nature of his spell. That description was not suppose to make sense to anyone other than a will-user, but it was pretty accurate.
"That's so cool." Marcus whispered to Seth his awe, and waited for what was next. This wasn't much, but it was still magic, and few people alive have seen it like this before. Seth kept his concentration, and added more to it, but his grip slipped. The flow of will between him and it was whipped, and that ripple travelled along that connection right to the weather vain.
"Oh shit!" This brief curse was all Seth had time to say before chaos happened. The second that ripple hit the cold iron weather vain the amount of will power that was being converted into kinetic energy spiked, and it spun faster and faster in a single terrifying instant. It smoked and sparks flew from the friction that had built up in that one second, then it was ripped off the roof and came out in a flight of metal, heat, and motion. The brothers dived to the ground as it curved towards them, its dangerous mass struck a tree and tore gashes several inches deep, it did the same with another on its path of damnation, and would have continued but it became embedded in a third tree. A twisted deformed thing of iron protruded from the trunk of the final apple tree it hit.
Marcus rose from his position on the ground and ran over to the broken weather vain. He gripped it firmly with both hands and yanked back, but it had sunken so deep it wouldn't budge. "That amazing." He looked from it to his brother. "It was even better than the time you made the well spit up water."
"Glad YOU enjoyed it. That could have killed us, or gotten me branded a freak."
"You are a freak, Seth." Marcus looked at all the apples that had been knocked out of the trees and now rested peacefully on the ground after the brief moment of anarchy. "But you're a freak who's my brother, and who saved me an hour or two of hard work. Get the cart and we'll load em up."