Fantasy / Writing

Chosen of the Divine

Chosen of the Divine

In yet another cycle of the endless game, those of great power gather together. Taunting, arguing, laughing, and most of all preparing. For each has something they will release upon the world, something of such influence that that status quo will be brought to ash and made new altogether in the vision of whoever wins the competition. And in such a manner one of the smaller older beings who attend creates what to all on lookers is a simple young man. The only truly unique quality is his eyes which had purple irises, such intensity deep within them, a probing curiosity to the understanding of everything. And it was this simple quality that set this manufactured simple man upon a path that would lead to the destruction of all the natural workings, and fundamentally change the way the game is played.

The young man with the striking purple irises wakes up as he has for years. In the same bard, in the same old, in need of a wash, clothes, and so he goes about the routine. Checking the hens for eggs, milking the cow, feeding the pigs their morning slop and so on. In the afternoon he trains with his spear, just as they all are required, and he trains with his padded armor, and his wooden round shield. He trains with his short bow, and he rides the family horse around a bit as well. The community required every boy older than 15 to train with what they had in order to help defend the community should the need arise. It was part of some new initiative to help deter and maybe even force back the bandits that had recently set up in the old fort ruins.


Day 1: The Rainbow Meteor

Across the morning sky races a meteor. One that leads a multicolored trail of dust that slowly comes down to earth. And with it, a wide range of magical events happen all at once signaling the beginning of strange and new things to come. One such change happened in the deep of the desert’s a place where a man had not walked in many years. For here there was a great gathering of those fanatical in their worship of a strange god.

As the excavation revealed slowly but surely a great door way, figures came forward in the night clad in dark crimson armor, steeped in shadow blade and all. The darkness seemed so strong as to absorb light as it coalesced and seemed to drip off the armor and blades. Every step towards the exhausted camp silent yet carrying an impact not heard but felt. Like a heart beat twisted by horrible and perverted sorcerous ways. Moments later after the cascade of dead victims of an unquenchable thirst for death, a crooked old man bent by age emerged looking on in joy at the carnage. “So,” he thought to himself his ancient mouth cracking into a terrible smile of such mad glee. He croaked out “The great hunt begins!”


The End of a Threat and the Beginning of a Watch

The bandits had yet again harassed a merchant coming to trade with the town. One time too many, and so the boy with the purple eyes gathered his things and he collected anyone else bold enough to strike with him. And so they went to the bandits and gave them an offering of food and mead, because of such a generous donation the bandits let their guard down for the last time. Under the cover of night after the bandits had eaten and drank what they had been given, the band of young and eager lads advanced as silently as they could and sprung upon the bandits as they slept or drunkenly kept watch. And in such a fashion slew them all ending the reign of terror caused by their presence in the old ruins of a fort long forgotten along with the campaign that called for it. 

After that night the villagers celebrated for a week and a half at the expense of the various merchants who could freely trade in the region once more. Albetous Berol first “captain” of the town watch declared that he and any who would join him would repair the ruined structure and prevent and future actions of thievery, banditry, or other heinous crimes against the community as a whole. It was wise that he did, for a host of many troubles came uncalled for and without warning, and these trials would decide whether or not Albetous would survive to see his true fate or fall like so many others had early on before they truly became legends.

Berol and his fellows as usual on patrol, dull, lacking in enthusiasm, and of course less than fulfilling of the action packed glory they’d been promised. If a lack of events continued such as this the watch would be considerably downsized staff wise. Many had simply joined to make some coin and to avoid the numerous tasks at home that needed regular completion.



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