Hi, for any of you who doesn't know the mode Calamity for the game Terraria, maybe you should go seek info on the Net, otherwise you'll be spoiled and without even understanding what this is about, which is very hard to do, to spoil without telling anything understandable. Anyway, before I go, the original lore of Terraria has been bent slightly for the sake of story-telling. Another warning, is that my way of writing is… special.
You'll see.
Prologue.
Rebellion.
Everyone… was dead.
The plan had failed, all of whom took an initiative in the rebellion were killed without a second thought…
…
So why wouldn't death simply come and reap his soul like it did with all the others?!
He rolled on his side, pain striking his entire body as his eyes fell on a form barely a few meters away.
- Ca… ssie, barely whispered the man, before a violent cough doubled his weak body, blood mixing with whatever he was actually coughing out.
"We should've left at night, like we all planned to," sadly thought the man.
As he laid there on the ground, trembling, the young soldier could only think back of how he and the others came to this point.
Unaware of a nearby presence, his mind drifted down an unconscious reminiscence.
[Two days ago.]
Sitting around a table with his friends, Daniel looked around nervously. To his left was his childhood friend, Cassie. Next to her was her older brother by a year, Nevan. Blond, eyes of a blue akin to that of the sky by clear summer days, both were short tempered yet sage and understanding for their age.
On his right, he found his mentor, John, a retired swordsman. Despite his advancing age, the wrinkles and the dark circles under his brown hazelnut eyes, the white hairs and slowly lengthening beard, the man was still as sharp in body and mind as he always was, and could prove a threat to even the greatest of warriors, should his elderly appearance fool them.
Next to him was an empty seat, one where his wife, Esmeralda, once sat proudly, halberd crossing her back as her green eyes sparkled with amusement despite their precarious situation.
Three other companions sat on the opposite side, wanting a bit of space for themselves. Carole, on the left, a young warrior and spy, was leaning on the table, participating with rumors and gossips, her eyes, irises almost of a golden color darting around, a long gash, hidden by her curling black hairs, curved around the front of her left ear, souvenir of the only time she let her guard down. Twin blades at her sides, she loved to use the most lethal types of poisons, always mixed to some ichor, promise of a scarily fast yet agonizing death to any who would only as much as nick themselves on the short swords. As efficient on the battlefield as she was when infiltrating the enemy's territory, she was a true show of balanced force, speed and discretion.
At the right side was Connor, an alchemist, as well as the only magician of the group, draped in his blue robes, sapphire dust making the clothing resemble a deep blue flame as the rare gemstones enhanced the conductivity of the ambient magic. The teenager seemed uneasy amongst the rest of the group, anxiously fiddling with the handle of his staff, an experiment at using a comet shard with a rod of charred ore, the hellish properties of the warm crystal-like metal balanced by the cosmic, at default of being heavenly, powers of the shard. Between him and Carole sat the last member of the assembly.
Posing a calm, calculating and at times cold gaze on everyone sitting at the table, the man looked with concern at the entrance of the tent, as noise came close, farther already the next moment. Wearing a spectre armor that made him hard to see in the dimly lit tent, Braelor, once thought dead in the first rebellion, and that, centuries ago, looked gravely at Daniel, who nodded.
Clearing his throat got him the attention he needed.
"Thank you for accepting to receive me this late in the night," began the defender (or at least one of the most famous) of the surface, "I know the reasons your king is doing this for are honorable, despite the selfish side the desire of vengeance brings in."
Everyone nodded and he continued.
"As you may know already, I do not wish the death of Yharim, he is the legitimate prince, after all, and as such, he should be the one on the throne as we speaks." Braelor shook his head regretfully, "What the current monarch did was…," he looked up and said, his black eyes hardening with his voice, "However, if Yharim wins his campaign, I fear not much of the kingdom will survive."
Whispers started to circulate around the table.
Carole spoke up.
"Do you mean… Yharim wouldn't destroy the city," she nearly shouted, "It's his home, after all…"
The woman slowly closed her mouth as a sudden realization hit her.
Cassie said the unspoken question, as her eyes fell to the floor with the expression of someone who already knew the answer… said answer being all but pretty.
"It isn't to him anymore," she softly said, "is it?"
The warrior sighed.
"It's… not that simple."
Everyone kept silent.
"I don't know what he's planning," continued the man, "but whatever it is, it's involving this witch," he said with scorn.
Even John shivered at the mention of Calamitas.
No one ignored her existence, and no one dared disrespecting her, for even being killed by Signus himself was told to be thousands of times less painful than by the young sorceress' magic, fueled by her hate and sadness, a pure mix of negative emotions that burnt to the very soul of the ones she executed.
"He doesn't plan to," muttered Connor, his overactive mind getting to work instantly.
The wizard himself knew what dark magic could do when an heartbroken person used it by resorting to any negative sentiments, wasn't that why he exceled at using his staff? He looked with barely hidden remorse at the magic weapon, wishing he never discovered the possibilities of the arcanes, letting out a sigh only heard of himself.
As the warrior spoke once more, the memory became blurry...
Daniel thought he wouldn't be able to open his eyes again, but that's exactly what happened.
The slightest movement a torture, the young man could only open his mouth to breath, his throat awfully dry, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar room he was in, ears picking up the joyful chirping of birds as trees seen outside a window told him he was back on the surface, in a sparse forest, moreover.
Footsteps came to an halt as the opening of the room revealed a man, probably in his thirties, bringing a plate of food, the odor of fresh bread, butter, jam and surprisingly hot chocolate making his stomach growl loudly, getting a surprised raising of the stranger's eyebrows.
- Aaah, he said in a happy and relieved tone, I see someone is hungry, eh.
As he approached, Daniel noticed the common clothing, not a farmer, but not a rich partisan of the court, that was already good.
"Even if it would've been my kind of luck to fall in the hands of Yharim's brother," ironically thought the man.
As he posed the plate on a small nightstand beside the wooden bed, the stranger looked proudly, yet with renewed worry to his guest's bandages, the moving performed earlier already enough to reopen smaller wounds, blood soaking the tissues drop by drop.
- Uh, it seems that when you moved it made some small tears in the wounds I had sealed, lowly remarked the man, more for himself than Daniel, guess I'll need to buy tread of better quality, snorted the person as he shook his head.
- W…
The sound barely passed his lips, yet, despite his hurting mouth, and aching, burning throat, the soldier asked again.
- Who… ar-*cough*.
As he began to trash around involuntarily, the man hurriedly immobilized him and brought something to his lips. It was not the chocolate he had smelled moments ago, it had no odor at all…
"Water," the word exploded in his mind, it was water!
Like someone who had spent an eternity in the desert, Daniel drank until there wasn't a drop left in the glass.
With some reluctance, he let go of it, as the man went to leave.
- I'll go get some more, he said with visible, sudden fear making his brown eyes tremble a bit.
His expression hardened in a mocking manner.
- And don't you dare die on me now!
With that, he rushed to get more water.
Daniel could simply stay in the bed, thinking of how long the day would be.
A single thought crossed his mind.
"Thank god he isn't crazy…"
Uh… okay? So… I guess that's all for now…
As you may have noticed, I can't help myself from inserting some kind of low quality humour, sorry if it annoys anyone, eh eh…
Whatever, I think I'll have things to explain for those who know Braelor, why wasn't this guy dead?
… I… can't really answer that… too much spoilers, sorry.
And if this miraculously gets one or more reviews, they will be answered next chapter.
Bye!