Chapter 1: To the New Ages....
I stood there, right at those rocky cliffs which faced the bright morning sun, basking me in its glorious light which, for my people, once symbolised hope. Below me shone another sun, in the eyes of the many young soldiers who faced me with their blazing gazes, united under the banner of the crimson sun, ready to lay down their very lives for the sake of their people. The time was ripe for the revolution, when all the warring states would lay apart their myriad differences, and be united under the ancient flag of their ancestors, that of the crimson sun of Arcadia.
It was a touching moment, truly, to see my efforts come to fruition, when I would finally be able to avenge those lost in the previous wars, and create the true alliance those patriots craved.
I looked towards the sun, facing the agony of its supreme light head on, and prayed...
It is for you all that I do this.
For the sake of your future I come here,
And give you all what you wanted.
The true evil, the One who would take all your blames, and free you from this cycle of hatred.
Accept my offering, O' great Lords who created us all.
Accept my offering, O' dear ancestors of mine.
For tonight, under the last glow of this very sun, I shall step foot upon your domain
And leave behind peace eternal, which you all craved.
I looked away from the sun then, and looked at my valiant comrades, bestowing upon them my final blessings, and looked again to face the soldiers below.
"Long live the Great Alliance!", screamed their many Kings and Queens, and the Sea of warriors behind followed suit. I prepared for my last stand then.
.............
Book of Myths, Volume III
Chapter 8: The Myths of the Broken Alliance Age
As is probably known to all in Arcadia, the Broken Alliance Age was one of, if not the, most significant periods in the history of our civilization. The great rebellions that took place in this era have formed much of our society as we know it. From our rituals to our very political and philosophical approaches, this period has influenced almost every sphere of our lives, from the personal to the most public of all elements. Though that may be, true Histories of this age are somewhat rare. As it was the age of the greatest of sorcerers, it is difficult for us to differentiate the fact from the fiction. Regardless, there is one story from this age which is known to all, and which has become an integral part of many a local traditions under various names. It is the story of Lepto the Devourer, the One who was the Devil, and how, to battle him, the Banner of the Crimson Sun rose again, and how the United Arkadia came to be.
............
A sweet earthen fragrance emanated from the grassy glade, when the rain was gone. Quite a long time the heavens rained, and quite a few times they struck their wrath upon the secluded trees, under whose boughs rested quite a few souls, who had probably died in an age unremembered....
The storm ceased after a few moments, but the dark clouds never passed away. It was as if they were being drawn together, held by a force unseen, which had taken the grove as its den.
Twisting, churning, swirling, and encircling about the glade, the clouds formed the eye of an unformed hurricane, charged with a forest of viridian lightning, forming and dissolving and reforming, again and again, snaking together into a massive bolt— a tribulation of nature, a wonder, a chaos embodied, which was to descend, yet again.
And descend it did, unto one of the many calm graves scattered about, cleaving the old, gargantuan tree into two, exposing the old skeleton below, even charring it in part. And then the miracle began. Out of nowhere the changes came, summoning nerves and muscles and sinew from some forgotten realm, reconstituting the calcified remains into a complete man. A complete, living man.
Whooooo.......
The first breath.
Whooooo.....
The second.
Whoo.....crack
The fluttering whispers of cracked lips filled the glade, and so did the low sounds of eyelids unfurling, revealing a pair of golden eyes, completing a face which was, perhaps, as old as time.
For a moment, the reborn one staggered, holding onto the charred stump which was once his grave, and oriented himself to his new surroundings.
Dark clouds, a grassland beneath. A city, a big one, down the soggy roads, covered by massive walls of grey. Beyond that, the forest, just a few steps away, and some beasts prowling about its boundaries.
Where was he, he thought. I was dead. The army, the great battle, what.....
While he indeed wished to delve into those mysteries, now was not the time, for the shrill scream from a passing carriage implied otherwise.
The screams. An elderly lady, perhaps. Where...
There they were, an elderly lady and an escort of some sort, battling against a wild bear with adamantine claws. A sorcerer and a feral bloodboar.
Quite a fearsome battle it was, but also quite trivial. The sorcerer, though a strong one, was barely even able to scratch the boar, for its fur was immune to most magic, and the strongest against an infernal fire. Born in volcanoes, raised in waters. Neither fire nor water can kill them, at least not in the usual way. I guess I should step in.
And before an eye blinked, a beast lay dead. Slaughtered most unceremoniously, most mercilessly. What did the sorcerer see? A snake of crimson flames flowing from a naked lad, coiling about the beast, ensnared it, and tearing into it through every orifice, melting it from the inside, until only the silken furs remained.
The sorcerer lay there, right on the kneaded grasslands, shocked by the wizardry of the naked lad up the hill, who was now advancing towards them. Who... might he be?
The elderly lady, who went by the name of Gwendolyn, thanked her savior, and so did Sigil, the sorcerer. And all they got was a blank stare. The saviour couldn't understand even a single word of theirs.
