Prologue: A Wonderful Bedtime Story
The day was done and the winds of the night were rushing through the small little shanty on the edge of the village. Supper had long since been served from the pot and the family of three were readying themselves for their hours of rest, perhaps the truest since of freedom for the lowborn people all throughout the continent. Such a grace was always welcomed, most of all by the head of the household, a man who works tirelessly. He is a man who comes home each day smelling of a hard day's labor and whose hands are worn and torn, calloused deep from years of effort. And yet, the comfort and joy he feels when he stares into the eyes of his young son when he returns home each day has an effect upon him. In an instant it's as if the years reverse from himself. He is overjoyed as his little son gets into his hay bed. The family is not wealthy in any regard but they are happy with what they have. He tucks his little boy into his blanket to keep him warm through the night. Nearby his wife has already laid down from the night. He happily takes the chance to ferry his boy to the world of dreams.
"Father!" the boy says with tired excitement upon his lips as he settles into his blanket. "Tell me a story please!" The father smiles as he sits beside his son on his little rough bed.
"Alright boy. The father says to the child. "I'll tell you a story my father told me about how the world came to be." The child smiled as he loves stories of the past, of the world and the great heroes and people involved in it. "Years ago, long a fore the times we live now, long before the rise of House Hartford which rules our lands. There was a Goddess. Her name was Ashanura. She was fully wondrous and beautiful and gave life to the world. She created all manners of creatures. She created the first beings. Which in time, some became humans, other became the shifters, more animal than person at times. Creatures that could turn into dragons, lions, and tigers. Ashanura one day however, had a fit and split herself of her emotions. She became two people, the god of order Ashera, and the god of chaos Yune. Ashera then fought a war against Yune on a faraway realm called Tellius. Yune was defeated and silenced, but not a fore her other half Yune filled with all her emotion and desire birthed several gods from her own body. These little gods scattered themselves across the seas, hiding themselves from Ashera and her armies. Two of them settled upon this, the continent of Wiera. For centuries they lorded over the primitive people of this world, helping them grow and develop. They laughed and played with the people for years." He pauses for a minute as he ponders the next part of the tale. His sons eyes were heavy, but not quite closed yet.
"The two were known as Iagus and Kaya. Iagus was wild and more built upon the foul emotions of Yune, while Kaya with kindness and open heart sought to do nothing beyond being a source of joy and warmth to the people of Weira. For a long time things were calm in the lands. Until one day a tyrannical lord rose up in the West part of our realm. Ragos the Rage the annals of old call him. He created war and slaughtered children and men alike. This crazy bloodlust of his garnered the attention of all men of rage and ill intent the world over. Kaya's heart was broken from these notions and tried to stop the fight by ending the life of all of those following the banner of Ragos. However, Iagus blessed all of the people under the banner of the Rage filled ruler. Iagus and Kaya tussled over the other's actions. Kaya wanted peace and was embarrassed that once again two opposing forces were at all-out war over the god they served. Kaya refused to bless the entire realm of people following her against Ragos. However, she did find in the people in opposition of the enemy, the greatest swordsman and the strongest halberdier in perhaps all the lands, not just Wiera. The swordsman was called Scythe, he had only one eye, an eternal scowl on his face and carried two swords. The man was blessed with quick feet, and quicker hands. Though he carried two swords, he always fought with his right hand. This was his weaker hand, the other he reserved only for his real challenges. The halberdier was named Reto. He was slightly taller than the average man, yet his aura was that of a giant. His eyes were red, blood red, yet his soul and heart were peaceful. The man wore triple forged steel plate armor. Despite the heavy wear of the armor, he was in no way inhibited in his movements. He was still swift and quick. Kaya gathered the two together and blessed them fully.
To Scythe she replaced one of his swords with the sword called 'Darkness.' The blade possessed the power to steal light in its sight. Scythe from that day forward wore deep black cloak and hood. His cloak at all times he kept turned to the side to keep the blade of Darkness from mingling with light. Never from day forward has the blade known as Darkness been absent his hand on the handle.
To Reto, she blessed his armor and halberd with her own spirit. The armor and weapon were now in many ways unable to be damaged. From the bottom of his boots to his forged and fitted helm, the knight never again needed a smith for repairs.
However, the greatest blessing the goddess gave them both, were youth. She bathed them both in her own blood. And thus, the two became godlike, they would not age, not weaken, not die from what maligns normal folk. The stories say from that day of blessing onward, only another godlike or god, or true death in battle could fell them."
"Father…" the little boy yawned as he continued listening to the story despite dreams coming upon him. The father stopped telling the story and waited for his son's next statement. "How come Iagus didn't do the same for his followers?"
"huh….I have no clue son." The question had never come up or been a thought to the worn down man. He tried to think for an answer but he could not find one, perhaps it was a long days work that robbed him of thought, or just his generally weak mind, but the man truly had no answer to the question, and he preferred not to lie to the child. "Anyway child. The two men blessed by Kaya charged into the heart of Ragos' land and fought back every challenger, slaying thousands. And with each victory they grew closer to the end of the war. Soon they slew Ragos. And then charged at Iagus. The two dueled the god for hours, days, and even weeks. Each blow was fought back and forth. Over those weeks countless remnants of Ragos' army tried to help the god but to no avail and Iagus' tricks and divine powers gave him no edge against the two champions. Then Scythe let loose the darkness blade from beneath the cloak and began fighting with the blessed sword. The whole chamber and city they were fighting in soon fully enveloped in pitch black, a whole city absent any light. Reto found an opening and wounded the god deep with his halberd spike. Iagus groaned and rather than continue the battle further he fled the scene using what little energy remained in him. Scythe quickly hid the blade once more returning light to the realm. However, it was too late. Iagus was gone. The world was at peace, but not at rest. Kaya knew she would not be able to relax until she knew Iagus was fallen. Thus she took to the sky and left our world searching for him to either kill or console her brother. She swore to not return until she handled Iagus for good.
The world became what it is today, a fractured realm of houses and lords vying for power always. The heroes of the war Scythe and Reto decided not to rule a dominion or be gods in their own abilities….and perhaps they by choosing not to doomed the realm to violence always." The father ended the story on that low note as he could tell his boy was fast asleep and knew he could and a bit of his own opinion to the end of the tale. Of course he was tired so he moved from his son's side to his place by his wife.
"AHHHHH!" a quick scream filled the air and alerted the senses of the father. He rushed toward the door of his home and opened it to see what it was, his wife sat up in the bed alarmed by the sound as well. The boy had not yet been alerted to sleep.
"SHUNK!" the father had opened the door to be greeted by a hand axe to the forehead.
"AHHHHHH! ROBERT! ROBERT!" The wife shrieked as her husband fell backward to his death. Fires began to grow and screams and yells began billowing from all around the village as men had come to raid and plunder. The sounds alerted the boy to his feet from sleep. He asked his mother what was going on and was in shock as he turned his head to see his father dead on the ground. The mother quickly regained her sense and jumped from bed and grabbed the boy and shoved him underneath his bedframe in a flash of moments.
"SHHHHHH!" she quieted her son, "No matter what happens….do not make a sound!" the boy could see the panic in his mother's eyes as she kissed his forehead and pulled herself from the edge of the bedframe. A few moments later the thunderous sound of heavy boots thudded into the shanty home to collect the axe from the deceased man's skull. The mother shrilled and tried to remain quiet as he entered the home. He removed the axe and returned it to his side before he noticed the mother, dressed for bed and fully terrified.
"Well look at you." The man spoke with a disgusting filthy slur as if he was good and drunk before the exertion of fighting even began, now that the village was nearly sacked, he was good, drunk, and also out of breath. He slightly tripped over the dead body in the floor as he moved to the mother who tried to recoil into the corner of the home to no avail. The man grabbed her leg and pulled her to the floor of the shanty. She swung at him with her open hands, squirming wildly as she began to cry tears of terror, terror mostly only known to a woman in the midst of a drunken man who eyed her for wicked pleasures against any of her intentions. He smacked her in the skull with the back side of his hand axe and then turned her over. Tears and horror ran down her face as the blow had paralyzed her to defend herself. Even more she was paralyzed further as she found herself looking into her son's frightened eyes as the drunk man spread her legs and moved her gown out of the way. The next few moments seemed an eternity….
Finally the evil was over. The mother seemed fully drained of all terror as she was no longer able to cry or make a sound as she just lay helpless to the turmoil upon her. The drunk arose from his evil scoffed at the woman. "What horrid lay." He said as he spat on her. "You don't deserve another go." The drunk then buried the axe into the damaged woman's neck; the force nearly cleaved her head from body. She endured a few moments more of pain as she now cried tears of blood until her life faded fully in the coming seconds. The man was done with the home as he saw nothing more of value in the building. He walked towards the door of the home unbeknownst to him that all awhile under the small bed frame, was a young boy watching in silent horror as his mother breathed her last breath. He followed her instruction, and kept quiet even having to bit through his own hand to help him keep so during the worst of it. As the man walked past the dead man of the house on the floor he saw fit to loose his pants and began to urinate on the dead man. The boy covered his ears under the bed as he heard the drizzling noise of the man's stream pelting his father's corpse. The man finished soon enough and then as he tightened his pants he made a mocking priestly gesture. "A Blessing from House Valtrex." The man laughed as he left to rejoin his comrades spread throughout the village.