The Experience of Survival
Is The Key
[So, I came into WAR really late,and I never thought about really making myself a back story. Well here it is, finally. sorry it took go long and sorry for stealing your style, Past. o:]
Grindian - Prince of the dead
One night, the evil king Sangria was assaulted by a small rebellion force stationed just outside the kingdom. The highest ranks consisted of some of his most trusted and seemingly loyal servants. The battle was fast and the fatalities were too many.
Sangria had risen hundreds of lost soldiers to do his bidding. Since they had already died once, the fear of death's icy grip had left their souls leaving the soldiers relentless and blood thirsty. Their envy for life consumed them just as their blades consumed the blood of the battalion. Vicious thoughts swirled through the king's mind.
The attempted mutiny made his brain tick. Humans were unreliable in life so he decided he would fashion his own soldier. That night, he rose from the dead an infant slain by his hand. He endowed the infant with the glyph of necromancy on his right forearm.
This was the night of my rebirth.
The king raised me just as he said he would. Like a heartless soldier. However, an unforeseen flaw had surfaced over the ruler's plans.
It was mid-day, and I was doing my typical agility training when I met a girl very close my own age, only I was 11 at the time and she was 10. She had rosy cheeks and a smile that could bloom even the saddest moon lillies. I would often sneak out at night to see her and play at the pond of Elrose. I felt like a child for the first time in my life. Happy and free, not oppressed by training. But all the joy, all the liberties were lost the night that the king had learned of my excursions. Enraged and wrought with the fear that the girl was tainting his lone soldier, he put her to death. I do not like to recount how she died, but one thing I will say. All the darkest power in the world could not bring back her lost soul. That night she was gone forever and with her the closest thing I've ever had to love. A heavy smack landed my face and the king sent me to my quarters and told me to never speak to anyone other than himself again. Rage bubbled through my pores. I gathered my things and slipped past the guards using the well-trained form the king had given me. From then on, I was free.
I traveled for a year as a nomad, staying in no one place for too long in fear that the king might find me. While traveling the orient, I found a small village in south China near Hai Phong. I decided I was tired. Tired of running and tired of hiding. While in this village I met a man who taught me about Chi, the life force of everything. He also taught me of the Chinese elements and how to use your chi to manipulate them. He convinced me to stay and I learned under him for the next few years.
I was 16. It was nighttime and I was undergoing my routinely meditation. My mind was a massive plain where all of my thoughts and feelings hovered just off the ground. I was wondering through the vast expanse, when something new appeared to me. A large black door with no hinges and no walls to seal a gap between. Just a door with an odd symbol on it that seemed so familiar. I attempted at the knob, but of course it was locked. I rammed myself into it, seeing if I could knock it over. But my efforts proved no avail. Then I remembered. The symbol on the door matched the one on my right arm. I was never sure what the symbol meant, but after I escaped the king I was always kept my mark wrapped in bandages to keep myself unnoticed. I tugged on the cloth wrap and unraveled my arm. I held out my arm towards to door to compare. A direct likeness, it was. Suddenly an intense burning took over my forearm. I felt like a rampant bull being seared with the mark of his master. I bellowed in pain, looking up at the door. The marking on the door was burning away. From the outside in, much like the fuse of a well fashioned bomb. Finally the sizzling fuse reached its end. I clenched my eyes tight and prepared for the worst. I lay in the plains of my mind, gasping for breath when suddenly it all stopped. The pain was gone. I regained my breath and rose to my feet. The next action was unquestionably the worst thing I've ever done. I stared curiously at the door. It's obsidian black sheen mocking me. I reached for the ornate handle and pulled ...
I awoke the next day to what seemed like a war ground long after the battle. Decaying flesh stung my nose as I stepped out of my hut. I Looked around, but all that was seen was death. Women, children, men all lined the pathways of the village. I looked around and hoped to find something, a fire, a dagger, a hove print, some form of foul play. But once again, I found no avail. I had done this. I had released the monster inside me. I never slept again from that night on, leaving the door closed, but still unlocked. Leaving the creature inside at bay.
I couldn't stand the sight. I gathered my things and left that moment. For a long while I traveled, once more. Eventually I came to the War grounds, a place where fighting was a kin to breathing. I swore an oath to myself that I would fight for the good of mankind in hopes of removing that foul black stain which tarnished my soul.
To the
Gravity
of
Love
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