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Today I made up ...
Legacy Of Mana: Forward
Forward by King Solenus VII.

It is an interesting thing, life. Some will tell you it is set in stone. It is mastered by destiny and is predictable.
But I have lived out my life, and I can tell you.
They are wrong.
Lives are not predictable in any way shape or form known to the beings of the World. Even our powerful magic that can cause disasters, bring about the changing of the earth, and even bring the dead to life can do nothing to predict life. Mere speculation is all we have to go on.
Destiny is nothing.

Personally, I'd say my life has been good. I was an orphan raised in the frozen Wastelands of the North by rangers. There, I learned the values of honor and family. I traveled South to Artrera, a broken and dissolute country. The line of their King had been lost long ago, with no way to battle the coming threat.
And indeed there was a threat. The Vile Army, comprised of Goblins, Trolls, and the like marched across the Spine of the World to control the Continent, with no one to stop them.
But worst of all was at the head of their Army. A man so foul and vicious that hell itself spit him back out. Gothmog. An Immortallis from the Paradise of the West, he had immeasurable power. But the worst part was his hellish ability to turn his body into that of a Demonlord. A fiery giant with wings and horns. In his hand was a great black battle-axe, with which he cleaved the souls of his victims.
But I was there. I was able to start small, by simply turning away an invading Goblin Troop in the Woods of Evendim, home to the Elves. The Elves gave me their support, and soon I had mobilized the Continent against the coming horde of the Vile.
We drove them away, to the South and to extermination. A final battle between myself and Gothmog decided the fate of our world. I used my unique talents locked into my eyes to defeat him. Yet he was an Immortallis. He could not easily be killed. Thus we sealed him and sent him back to the Paradise, to be judged by the other Immortallis for his crimes.
It has been 20 years since that day. My chest aches, my hair greys, my eyes dull. I am old. But I am King. I sit atop the throne of Atrera, leader of the Allied Forces.
And today, of all days, is my birthday. My 67th. The Royal City, Galadrius it is called, has planned a party. The whole city will be here to remember the War, and to honor me. And thus I shall honor them. These are my people. I have protected them. They are my family.
But by a twist of life, it is also the day of my death.

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  • 03/31/13 to 03/24/13 (2)

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