Post by Tyr on Apr 14, 2006 19:57:08 GMT -8
The Great Burning, the Great Knight Campaign has finally ended. Ahh yes finally it ended, the great struggle that took three thousand years to finish. The land is devastated; trees are but a memory now, blue rivers that are once said to flow freely are now known for their stench and bloody hue. The once great cities that stood proudly over the horizon are nothing but mirages of places that are now full of rock and rubble.
“Finally the war has ended.” said a man that is about over the peak of his life. His gray hair hang loosely to his soil stained clothes and his limbs, one leg has been torn in half, still spew out living blood. He wore an imperial uniform; most of the cloth from his chest has been torn off. He struggled to stand up to see the heroes who have saved their people from more blood spills. He looked through mounds of dead bodies that were once brave soldiers who fought for their beliefs, countries and lives. The old man smiled and said “At least now their deaths are not in vain.” He looked up wondering if at least another soldier survived. But there is nothing, nothing but bodies drenched in blood and blade, some of them are but children, ten, eleven years old, their hands still wield swords and staves.
As the old man tried to walk through ground made up flesh and bone, the stench of death covered his nose. But it doesn’t seem to bother him, his long life of slaughter and death made him inured to the smell of hell. He sidled, to avoid stepping over the dead for he not only respects them but he can no longer lift his feet a few inches from the ground. He uses the rod of his spear as his leg since one of his legs has been torn off. He moves very slowly, the eerie silence of the once great city of Mayfil made him tremble, though there is nothing to fear anymore. “It is so quiet, when I first got here this place sounded like hell.” He thought to himself. His torn leg is still bleeding, the blood drips to the ground like morning dew from the leaves. At least that is what he wants to think to minimize the excruciating pain. He felt like dying, there in that very spot, to escape the pain of that silence of the place and that of his leg. But he held on, he wanted to, at least see them, before he can rest. He wanted to see the Flame Knights before he would drop to ground.
Finally near the stadium of Mayfil he saw one of them, Blaise Godwin, Flamer of Fire. Blaise is just standing there staring up at the now blue sky, his armor is covered with blood, and his sword “The Nameless” stood on the ground dripping with the blood of the great Gradora. His wings drooped down to the ground; clearly visible from the old man that is standing right behind him is the hole in his torso. At that moment the old man gazed on the wound Blaise cried out “This is not how it is supposed to be!!” and the great fire bird Lefuega landed beside him and wrap her wings around him. Then in a blink of and they were gone. The old man kneeled down, then looked up at the sky, his energy draining away from through his wounds let out a cry himself “I die a freeman!!!” and with a smile on his face dropped dead himself.
After the Knight Campaign, the survivors, mostly were women, rebuild there lives and build there villages. Efgifans, Humans and Maniens alike accepted each other and live there lives harmoniously throughout the rest of history.
Twelve thousand years have passed and the people of Elmonde thought that war will never rage again, little did they know that history is going to repeat itself.
“Finally the war has ended.” said a man that is about over the peak of his life. His gray hair hang loosely to his soil stained clothes and his limbs, one leg has been torn in half, still spew out living blood. He wore an imperial uniform; most of the cloth from his chest has been torn off. He struggled to stand up to see the heroes who have saved their people from more blood spills. He looked through mounds of dead bodies that were once brave soldiers who fought for their beliefs, countries and lives. The old man smiled and said “At least now their deaths are not in vain.” He looked up wondering if at least another soldier survived. But there is nothing, nothing but bodies drenched in blood and blade, some of them are but children, ten, eleven years old, their hands still wield swords and staves.
As the old man tried to walk through ground made up flesh and bone, the stench of death covered his nose. But it doesn’t seem to bother him, his long life of slaughter and death made him inured to the smell of hell. He sidled, to avoid stepping over the dead for he not only respects them but he can no longer lift his feet a few inches from the ground. He uses the rod of his spear as his leg since one of his legs has been torn off. He moves very slowly, the eerie silence of the once great city of Mayfil made him tremble, though there is nothing to fear anymore. “It is so quiet, when I first got here this place sounded like hell.” He thought to himself. His torn leg is still bleeding, the blood drips to the ground like morning dew from the leaves. At least that is what he wants to think to minimize the excruciating pain. He felt like dying, there in that very spot, to escape the pain of that silence of the place and that of his leg. But he held on, he wanted to, at least see them, before he can rest. He wanted to see the Flame Knights before he would drop to ground.
Finally near the stadium of Mayfil he saw one of them, Blaise Godwin, Flamer of Fire. Blaise is just standing there staring up at the now blue sky, his armor is covered with blood, and his sword “The Nameless” stood on the ground dripping with the blood of the great Gradora. His wings drooped down to the ground; clearly visible from the old man that is standing right behind him is the hole in his torso. At that moment the old man gazed on the wound Blaise cried out “This is not how it is supposed to be!!” and the great fire bird Lefuega landed beside him and wrap her wings around him. Then in a blink of and they were gone. The old man kneeled down, then looked up at the sky, his energy draining away from through his wounds let out a cry himself “I die a freeman!!!” and with a smile on his face dropped dead himself.
After the Knight Campaign, the survivors, mostly were women, rebuild there lives and build there villages. Efgifans, Humans and Maniens alike accepted each other and live there lives harmoniously throughout the rest of history.
Twelve thousand years have passed and the people of Elmonde thought that war will never rage again, little did they know that history is going to repeat itself.
