The withered, beat down, raggedy ole ruins of a once great city lays in shambles. The guards listen to the skeleton of the king's corpse. The castle keep in shambles falling apart, soldiers walk about guarding tumbling cobble. The cities filled with plague and dread. Opposition army's dared not to encroach on the lands. The land was already dead.
The Demon Lords of the third circle knew nothing of how the once majestic city laid waste. Perhaps the plague had gotten the best, maybe greed? The cities corpse attracted no flies, it had died a death long ago. An unknown Kindle lit the fire yet only ashes remain of the legacy. The citizens all mindless, nether rich or poor, none had the need for money in a grave. Corpse littered the street by day, walked by night. The houses gave little resistance to any weather. Sooner or later the city will just blow like the wind. The motto for the city had become an epitaph. The sun sweltered burning a crisp the skin husks of citizens. The guards died too, listening to old bones.
The city fell in ruins the great walls that protected it, crumbled, as houses and the castle do the same. The once hero of the city never returned as too did the sunlight. Life in the city was null. It seems God gleamed light at the dreary nation. A hero born in a mother's corpse. The supposed still born cried, the dull eyed citizens didn't dare bat an eye, as getting day to day was hard enough. The isolated infant should had died but, longed to live, fate was not an easy road.
The nightly scavengers howled in the night. roaming to find any which way they can find food, corpses where always at the top of the menu. The infant cried out in burst of tears alerting the pack. An infant they found, food they thought, as they thrashed the infants left arm off. The now mortally injured infant roared in pain, bursts of tears now streaming. But fate had sometime been worse than death. The infant's fate was not to die there. The pain couldn't cause the infant to black out. The infant's thoughts where clear and pristine, it wanted to live. The infant summoned a creature, it's form was humanoid, and slaughtered the pack of wolves.
Sheer will and fate had kept this infant conscience, finally the encounter being over. A lean meager man looked at the baby with keen eyes. He picked up the infant, and hobbled to his home outside of the city, the journey took half a day. The infant had bled much blood but the baby had some of it's blood restored, through the use of magic. The meager man said to the baby "you'll make to be a great soldier". The meager man had been in his twenty's, the meager man was a mercenary. A hired sword. he'd seen great vitality from the infant and wanted to use the infant, as he knew two extra hands would earn him extra money.
Days, months, and years pass as the infant was raised as a mercenary, earning coins off the heads he'd rack up. The Lean man was named Jessie, and the young boy named Johnathan by the adopted father. Jessie trained Jonhathan, ruthless training. Jessie was in a faction of mercenaries so his comrades watched him face his 13, one armed, adopted son. The mercenary group was given the task to raid a castle. Johnathan applied for the job, Jessie smiled, he knew he would sow the benefits Johnathan made. That night, Brody, a mercenary entered Johnathan's tent, forcing him down, Johnathan fought back, but ultimately two arm were better than one. Brody had his way with Johnathan in the night, and when Johnathan asked why he'd do that he said Jessie sent him. The raid was happening tomorrow, but what Brody did and said threw him in a loop, "why would Jessie sell me out?". Jessie came out his tent and smirked at Johnathan, "morning Johnathan, get set for tomorrow". Jessie flipped a silver coin.Tails. The day passed.
Today was the day of the raid, The mercenaries all geared up, Johnathan had equipped light armor, a helmet, and a sword. There at the castle was a blood bath. Though it had been Johnathan's first raid, this amount was just hyperbole, he thought, but a battle field was no cake walk as he quickly parried a sword that had come at him quickly dispatching the assailant. "a head for a coin, eh" he thought, as he ran into the massacre.
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