A Beginning
Or was it an interlude? A pause and rewind, or a play by play? A new story written, or the possible repeat of history as the wheel of time turned? It is supposed, that only that same wheel will tell, for none of us could ever comprehend the complex pattern it weaves.
Fade in.
Lost in an echo of a memory. An ancient Power. Thares. NineLives. Alpha. Graves. Reinhart. Entertwined in battle-
NO.
War. Massacre. Utter Slaughter...
Army of Damned, Forsaken Empire, Demon Hunter Masters, Hell's Garden. A mixture made to raise all Hell, create an uprise in the very fabric that held Gaia together, and tore it along its seams. Armies with the strength of thermonuclear weapons clashing against each other, leaving just about as much behind as the bombs themselves would. Wasteland; suffering.
The soldiers themselves fought for what they believed just causes, ideal clashing against ideal just as much as sword clashed against spear. It was an era known as the Great Demon War. Better known by some as the era of Life-and-Death. Mere threads were all that held together peace treaties, no guarantee that the enemy would turn their back on the agreement in the middle of the night, and so it was your side who was first to break the treaty first just so you'd have a fighting chance at living to see another day.
It was hell. Yet, it was paradise to every soldier out there, no matter how ravaged their mind was: it was blood and battle they hungered for. It was that lust that led to this war, and it had been a long time coming. Small skirmish here, battle breaking out there... but never anything to really sate a thirst that needed it. The dam broke when the Demon Hunter Masters attacked Army of the Damned. It was then, that alliances were formed upon both sides revelation that they could not win the war alone. Hell's Garden and Empire pulled in on either side through ties that were none-too secure, but managed to hold to the last breaths of that war.
The ending battle, one led by one who had been pulled into war; a victim, and blood-thirsty leader, yet a martyr ; a hero to his people, and an enemy to all others: Draximas Alpha. With a final blow to the Army of the Damned, the war cries fell silent. Though he had not killed the demon Lord, it was enough. Enough to stop the war. Baptized in the blood of hundreds, and marked with ashes as a symbol of their faith, the soldiers came together as a new point turned. Enemies became brethren as The Order of the Underworld rose from what was left of the Empire, the Demon Hunter Masters, Hell's Garden, and the Army of the Damned. Blood started the war, and blood washed it away.
The rebuilding. The Falling. A rise of new dawns, and the set of the coming sun. Things happened fast, from that point on. Battles were fought, enemies challenged. No war. Nothing to sate the now again rising fight. Organized fighting rings, and tournaments became the only outlet to a fighter's thirst. Still. No purpose to really fight for, and always the guarantee of your life if you forfeit. No sacrifice to be made; no martyr for a cause. Yet, there are those of that blood that still wander. Miya Aredhel, Rose Thares, Willow Greye, Anguls Kushinoda, Jeg Shin, Krstalian Misuyanashi, Riddle Juliano...
The list goes on, and on. Tensions run high as fights become scarce. It is those remnants of the ages past that bring light from the old world, leading figures that guide and watch those of the new. It is their thirst for battle and war that continues to live, and be carried on. If not in their own hearts, then in the hearts of those that they've passed it on to.
Or at least that's the story I've told.
I suppose the question now is... with rumors circulating of the great leaders of the past falling, and now the underground quake of old foundations being rebuilt anew...
What is it, that they, those other remnants from an era long forgotten...
What do they plan on passing on for history to tell of?
Fade Out.
