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The Fire Heart

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Lagrimosa Lore


Posts posted by The Fire Heart

  1. 43439290d63eded12685404a4f9fd066.jpg

    [General Information]

    First name:  Richard

    Surname:  Watson

    Nicknames: Agent Watt, A-2015

    Race: Human

    Marital Status: Single

    Gender: Male

    Age: 28

    Role: - Electromancer in the VCF; Special Agent of Omega-01


    [Physical Evaluation]

    Voice: Deep baritone, though relaxed and slightly serious

    Eyes: Opal Blue

    Complexion: White

    Height: 183cm

    Weight: 78Kg

    Build: Slim, slightly athletic

    Hair: Dark, short hair. Spiky, due to electricity


    [Mental Evaluation]

    Demeanor:  Quite a strong-willed person, his confidence proves his elemental strenght in battle. Outside of any danger, he is a calm person, cracking jokes with his lightning powers.

    Likes: [REDACTED]

    Dislikes: [REDACTED]






    ·         A scepter, which allows him to channel his power, using it as an auxiliary device. Though, he manages just fine without it

    ·         A standard-issue VCF revolver

    ·         A blue, runic coat


    A charismatic person, who wants to protect the innocent of Genesaris

    Incredible electric affinity and knowledge of it in the physics field

    A smart and gifted magic user




    Foundation rating system applies from a scale of 1-10, 3 being physically identical to an average human.

    Strength- **

    Agility- *****

    Endurance- ***

    Intelligence- *******

    Charisma- ***

    Competency- ****

    Magical Affinity- *******




    ·         Really high electric magic affinity

    ·         PHD in electricty and electromagnetism

    ·         Average shooting skills



  2. 51 minutes ago, Sanonymous said:

    Wonderful! It would be awesome to have someone other than myself spreading the name of the VCF ? Skipping the formalities, there's really nothin' that you need to do to have a character under the VCF lore really, but it would be nice if I would be able to know what kind of character you're making.

    Be it a researcher, an explorer, a spy, a warrior, a vanguard, a sentry, a robot, any and all are welcome to the VCF! Just specify of course what you wanna be, special agent, normal infantry, part of a task force (Look at the resources and assets in my singature) or maybe start your own new gig?

    Would be glad to have you on board ? 

    My character will probably be a sorcerer in the Omega Task Force! I will make sure he is an interesting character, too! 

  3. "As mighty as he is, the Exarch has some rather... interesting people. Not to mention his plans are well structured for such a small group. I think the journey will be pretty fun." He though, while analysing the plans ordered by the leader. Everyone was splitting to do something and no one was slacking off. At least, this is what many other parties should have done, but there was always "that one guy" who was too coward enough and pretended he would "defend" the camp, but he was drinking until he would either puke or fall unconscious.

    "I'm leaving a couple of Grey Knights with you and the two newcomers. The rest of us are on a separate mission to locate the main base Byrn is using, wherever they could be staging a potential assault from. But, if you need more force, like if they're the enhanced clambakes or there's too many of them... we'll be somewhat close by during our search, and you can signal us."  Tolok nodded after he heard this plan. He was more interested in finding the main base, since he could have the chance to sever the root of evil. But he knew they can't fight head on against them. They needed a plan and, most importantly... an army. He listened to what was being said, until he heard his name. Madon mentioned both him and the witch, which was standing by, preparing potions. "I'm sorry, but I don't know any wind magic. My only magical power is manipulation of fire. I'd be better off with helping in searching the main base. Good luck with the scouting, Deadeye." Only hearing his nickname after Madon had mentioned it, Tolok nodded with respect, as the man with an eye patch came back with a weird looking, metal tube, with some handles. It looked like a weapon, but he was quite unsure, why would something like that be used, since it looked uncomfortable. "Maybe I'm too ignorant. He doesn't look like he's from here, anyways."

    He went to the lady which gave Deadeye the map and asked, locking his eyes on her, before checking his sword, which was in the scabbard and adjusting his gauntlets right after. "So, I'm in for searching the main base. Is there anything to know about it, while we are here?" He asked, as he was looking around him, then locked his eyes by mistake on Eve. There was something that really drew his attention, but he was not exactly sure what would it be; he just shrugged it off, like earlier, waiting for a reply.

  4. The night was growing dark, covering the world in complete darkness and misery. What would people see as a calm, relaxing night, when souls go to rest, only to start over next day, others fight in the name of their own morality, a higher being or just... for their selfish needs. The manifestation of misery and grief was growing more restless, to such proportions it could have been just... living on its own. The star, the fire burning the village, screams and blood, all these were the true manifestation of the chaotic nature that resides deep withing our souls as seeds, only to be nurtured and grown, to blossom by people who turn out to be controlled by it. There is a difference between subjective evil and objective evil, but this... this was the manifestation of hell on earth, only sent by what would seem as a monster, as demon lord or something along these lines.

    Dreamer was dancing, gracefully, as his swords pierced the flesh of the soldiers standing in his way,  causing them to fall and never get back up. The valse could be felt as if he was dancing with the blades themselves, while his enemies were the props, needed to make a grandiose show. Dodging, running and spinning, in order to give meaning to his attacks. As he got closer to the blacksmith building, he saw what could have only been as wraiths who were not willing to retreat, even after the dark star had arisen and grew stronger. One of them lunged towards his face, but the creator of the sword phantasms created a plank, only to jump on it so he doesn't get hit. The Dreamer always hated close combat, but he had to defeat those freaks now. As he was in mid air, he created a pair of swords, which he launched towards the monster, striking its back. He put laid his arms in front of his chest, lifting one and plunging the other, unclenching the fists, in a natural, smooth act of dance. The swords followed the orders of the man, cutting the wraith in two, vertically. Though, the wraith had no issues and came back to normal, as if nothing happened. 

    As he landed on the ground, he panicked a bit before thinking about what to do, while dodging another coming attack. "I read once that wraiths are killed by silver. Maybe if I can find something like that, I can finish him off, but screw this. I'll do what a thinker does best." He had no time for finding that in the middle of a damn battle and summoned a war hammer, which he prepared, by spinning it in the air, as the spectral weapon gained momentum. When the undead lunged at him, once again, he sidestepped and launched the war hammer towards it, howling and screeching, while the weapon and the monster disappeared in the village, far from him, while other soldiers looked at the stupid thing that happened and looked at eachother.

    They had different uniforms, weapons and they were all different, regarding race. They couldn't be the other raiders. He made another pair of swords. slashing, cutting and spilling the blood of the enemies, slowly, as the firing squad was also aiding him, taking part into defending the building.

    "Do you have any civilians in there? We can make good use of fortifying this place after we wipe out all the coming enemies. I can't believe this amalgam of people leads to more blood being spilled. Innocent blood." He said loudly, as he cut the throats of two other barbarians closing in from his side. He could feel the star growing more powerful, but he was started by what this place has come to. He couldn't believe his starry eyes.

  5. Tolok was analysing the crew, seeing kinds and kinds of people... And then "Deadeye". His glances stopped when he saw the man with a weapon which didn't look like any other. He almost could have asked himself what the hell is it, but he didn't want to be rude. The clothes, too, seemed like he was out of the current fashion. He looked really weird, except thje sunglasses which gave him a 'cool' appearance.

    He then looked at one of the other persons. It was Eve, which made him pretty curious: she didn't look very extroverted or "not shy". He kept his glance on her, not trying to scare her, but the necklace she has was something interesting, too. It was almost as if he felt someone in that crystal, which turned him even more curious. But what else would he want to do, except wait? He couldn't want to be seen as a creep, because of his sheer curiosity. As he looked back at Amber, he smiled a bit when she heard her mentioning the drinking game. She may be better than him, but it would be a really exciting thing to do in the free time they'd have.

    After he stopped analysing them, Tolok put his right hand on his chest, while a few flames covered it and greeted himself: "I'm Tolok."; he couldn't get himself to say more, since the party seemed pretty closed off at the moment.

  6. Watching the scene unfold, Tolok had quite a good chuckle, watching the pansies leave the place, with their hurt buddy mentioning all the gods while swearing. As the tavern was, yet again, as silent as before the announcement the Exarch had made. It came off as a surprise to see the same man who punished them to take a seat with him. Tolok was smiling, a bright smile, as his eyes looked like they were flaming, from the excitement. And then, his mouth opened and he couldn't do anything but grin.

    "Honestly, this why I even came here. I just wanted to let the cannon fodder take their shot, but it seems like they missed, like they were blindfolded, unlike you." He let a chuckle; "I just wanted to let things flow, while I enjoyed this show that unfolded. I must say, I would die to save the continent, with the Exarch as my leader! I would only need a place where I can sleep, food and adventure, though. I already have my bag of coins, so I will have to kindly refuse the reward, since it was not the reason I joined the drinking game contest." He smiled, once again, as his black hair would prove its beauty, paired with his eyes in the lightning of the tavern.

  7. The people in the tavern were already cheering and ordering ale, beer and what not, hoping they could get the fifty gold coins that the Exarch would bet. Though, Tolok soon realised there was a loophole: He said any, not first. This could only mean that not only one person could get the gold, which raised the stakes even higher when the news was spread, so everyone ordered at least one mug.

    Tolok was smiling. He knew he trained his flaming blood and belly, after all the things he went through, drinking like a bastard, after beating the hell out of other bandits. He looked around at everyone who got a drink, even the mercenaries, who were trying to act tough before, had at least one too, so they couldn't be ignored by his Highness, which would recruit them, probably after he'd see he could have more drinking buddies. But Tolok knew mercenaries may drink, but not as much as these here. They looked too refined for the tavern drinks in this place, but wine would fit them just fine. He knew he already had an advantage with this.

    "So, I'll have to drink with some pansies here and, maybe, one or two other heavy drinkers? I could just start drinking and make myself noticed, after he lowers his expectations of these pesky mercenaries." "Keep, bring me five large mugs at that table!" He pointed with the fingers towards a table which was, surprisingly, empty and close to the Exarch. He went there and made himself comfortable on one of the wooden chairs, while he was resting him arms on the stained table, dirty probably because of all the ale and beer spilled throughout these years. He looked at the Exarch, enjoying his drinks, like he waited so long for this moment, while his right hand looked of all the crap going on, with mercenaries taunting eachother, citizen of Isore, dancing and spilling alcohol on the ground, enjoying their life and trying their best to beat the king of this land himself! It almost looked as if this place was lit up after the war was over and peace was restored, but it was... way too far for that, for now.

    Looking around at other mercs, he realised no one appreciated his presence. He would get ill willed glares, spits on the floor, while maintaining eye contact and heads being shook. His eyes, topaz coloured in the middle and emerald-like around the ends, were processing everything that was happening. "Stupid barbarians." he thought, while chuggingone large mug of ale, slamming it to the table and showing a grin, "I will show them who's the tough guy here."

  8. "Morior Invictus!"; That was the the battle cry of hundreds of men in the city square, which Tolok Sur also said, turning the city square into a 'beacon' of hope. The rally, organised by the ruler of the place, the Exarch named Madon. The man himself, in flesh and bone, looking for the help of the people: wanderers, mercenaries and civilians. Though, this is a rally of hope, Tolok knew all hope was lost, since the king came here, in the first place. He shook his left leg,, since his greaves were not in a comfortable position, before looking, once again, at the Exarch.

    But. Hope was not lost for Tolok, at least. The man with flaming blood, gift of ancestors, whose family died and not because of natural causes. Grief. pain, suffering; those were the emotions he felt, due to their deaths, before he realised past is just a part of our lives, which no one should be controlled of. Hope came back, as well as optimism, as a forest fire, invading his thoughts and changing him into what he is now. Tolok took the Exarch's message seriously, making his mind, in what others would say "a blink of an eye". Though, it felt like an eternity for him. "If the world needs heroes, so be it. I always loved one way tickets to the land of Death, so I could just sign up for what could this be one hell of a ride. You never know what will happen, one can be part of the history books, but at the same time, their names would be entombed in a case of ignorance and desolation, simpler put... Nothing."

    His eyes, as of an eagle's, following the king, meeting with someone who could only be his right hand, left the square, only leaving Tolok with the option to follow them. Analysing the people around him, some were worried, especially women, while men would brag about "finally being part of Exarch's Royal Army.", "That if you don't get skewed by some Byrn patrols. I wish you luck, though.", Tolok thought. He had to slow down for a bit, since they were looking for a tavern, which was not too far away the square. He measured the distance with his eyes, looking at the stage, then back to the tavern. It was pretty close, precisely a block away. 

    Some people also followed Madon. A part of them were armed, thus being mercenaries or so, with a thirst for adventures, while others were children who wanted to touch his regalia, sparking a smile on Tolok's thoughtful face, as he advanced towards the tavern. Eventually, the Exarch and his man entered the place, Tolok following them. He found a place at the bar, took a seat... And waited.


  9. The spruce forest he was surrounded by, the magical manifestation of dreams and myths in the human body, nicknamed as "The Dreamer", was one where he decided to rest, before trying to learn more about poisons. The book, called "The Art of Deadly Liquids" was quite a heavy amalgam of paper and thick leather, being the entertainment he had for this late evening, where the sky would serve him as a blanket of bright, shiny stars. His eyes, being its exact copy, were hovering over the landscape, as a sense of wanderlust hit his heart, which he toned it down, by looking back at the book. 

    The Black Margon poison is the result of boiled, fermented blood of the Margon snake itself, mixed with the ashes of the demons. Such combination, left for half an hour, can be used to create an extremely dangerous neurotoxin, which leads to death, before immobilising the victim... The description of this poison was quite dark, but he was more and more curious to read it. But suddenly, a wind which brought, with itself, a smell of rotten, burned flesh, caught his attention. He closed the book instantly, looking with his eyes, reflection of the sky, around the dark forest of evergreen trees. He saw nothing, but an instinct urged him to look up. The magical, yet dark, a manifestation of mixed emotions of pure negativity, were haunting his body and chilling his spine. A bright, orange star caused him to stand up and go towards it, knowing this was not a sign of a good-willed person, trying to save the place. It was quite the other way around.

    Almost leaving the forest, he was able to see the flames of a village, accompanied by the symphony of pain, screams and clashes of steel, making him understand what was happening: "A raid. I can sense all these dark figures, wandering around, syphoning the souls of the defenseless people, slaying them in macabre ways. I can't allow this chaos to unfold even further!" He pulled the hood on his head, beforing running towards the closest villagers, who were running from three barbaric, bearded figures, armed with pikes, machetes or bludgeons. Their heads were covered by what it seemed a helmet, stained by the recent blood of their poor victims, with their eyes and mouths uncovered. Their bloodlust could be sensed by The Dreamer, shouting at them: "Stop right there!"

    The shout appeared to have stopped them, looking to their right, as a figure, looking like a mage, was challening their arrogance. "Before killing them, you might want to fight someone experienced." The barbarians, looking at him, grinned, as their yellow teeth shone in the light of the full moon, before charging forward. The hooded man stood his ground, as he waved his hand horizontally across his chest, looking like it was flowing through the air, as if it was beneath water. Two swords appeared besides him, aiming at the soldiers on the sides. The three men stopped for a second, looking shocked, before the phantasm weapons rushed, aiming towards their hearts. The thundering speed of the weapons did not give the victims a window to dodge, thus their blood was spilled, falling on the ground, dead. The Dreamer waved his hands again, before rolling in the air and aiming at the remaining barbarian, who stood there, shook because of the enormous force he had to face. He gave in and accepted his fate, as the material dreams of the man with the silvery hair ravaged his organs, meeting the ground, forever. 

    The Dreamer looked at the civilians, flinging his hand to them, as a sign to run the hell away from this carnage. Still surprised by the bloody show he caused, they nodded and ran away. The hooded figure looked back at the village, observing a few deathly, unnatural monsters, marching towards what it seemed as a blacksmiths building. He went towards there, as the bright star of pain and misery shone beneath the village.

  10. "They must be stupid. But, that's what fear and ego does to people. They can't think."
    By saying that, Jaron unsheathed his Gladius. His one, true friend. But wait, it's not a friend if the Gladius is an object, even though it thinks, talks and has feelings like a human, as if a poor soul, trapped in it, guides his master step by step, through troubled waters. A guide that serves not only as a helper, but as a friend, companion and, most importantly, an extension of his master. A living thing being commanded by another. Guard and dog, Dragon and his rider. Inseparable and strong together.

    Though, he unsheathed his mighty extension of his body, he couldn't stop there. The gem... The aquamarine, pale-glowing gem, that would be fitted in one of the sword's sockets. With grace, he put the glowing gem into its socket. The sword, from looking normal, changed. As if it would be coated by a magic spirit, the blade changed its colour, into a strong, intense purple. What would that have been? No one knew, until Jaron aimed his sword at one of the coming bandits. Five of them, armed with a dagger each, making few steps, trying to circle him, while the sword changed its property. Few glares were thrown at the sword, glowing in the powerful colour from the combination of red and turqoise, but they kept moving. They were not scared.

    "I know they don't understand. I know they have barely seen this magic. But... is it really worth risking their lifes to take someone's life? It doesn't matter anymore. They made their choice."

    Aiming his sword at one of the poor attackers, The sword let out a powerful light, painting the surroundings into the vibrant colour coating the sword. Suddenly, the sword turned to normal. But it wasn't done. Jaron's eyes turned purple, as the Gladius let out a spectral, purple version of itself towards the targeted man. The spectral version disappeared, as it hit the poor man, falling on the ground, being left unconscious. The others looked at him, with sadness, anger and determination. They looked back the the man who hurt their friend, moving closer to him, filled with hate towards him. A flaming hate, that would only be satiated by seeing the man's blood dripping on the ground, covering his soulless body. This is when they decided to fight him, once and for all.

    A vertical, slow slash was directed towards Jaron, as he dodged it by simply sidestepping, following it with a punch to the chest. Reacting to the pain, he instinctively tried cutting his arm. "Again, that's a waste of anger." He quickly parried with the Gladius, as he punched him again in the shoulder. As if he felt the pain, too, Jaron shook his hand, as he slashed the attacker's hand, managing to throw his small and forgiving dagger, following it with a punch to the face and a push against the wall. He, as well, fell unconscious.

    A scream was heard from behind. Another man, charging, to yield the probable, final hit that would render him useless to this world. But it was not done, yet. Not for the white-haired elf, at least. Not for Ampelos, either. The next hit was directed towards his head, with the intention to soak the road in blood. Jaron quickly ducked, as he stabbed the man's leg. Another man came in to help the attacker, laying down another hit at the outnumbered force. Unable to dodge, he barely scratched his left hand, as it shivered because of pain. The bandits were happy. Their bloodlust was even more intense, as a result to their pathetic, useless effort. But they thought they were one step closer to victory. They were enourmously wrong.

    The scratch only caused him to be more determined. As he parried another blow, he started thinking again: "Circling a man into a fight. Outnumbering him, thinking they could prey on the weak. Why is the world so afraid of fighting one to one? Or, are they cowards? I never understand humans and their cryptic frame of mind." At the end of the thought, he quickly dodged another hit, aiming for the knee, which caused the man to lose his balance. As a profiteer he is, Jaron made a short leap, catching the man's hand, which would hold the dagger. With a yelp, he tried escaping the struggle, as Jaron tried to stop his hand from getting blood, rendering it useless and letting the weapon go. And so it happened. The metalic sound of a blade, hitting the rocky pavement, excited the elf's ears. He smiled, as the Gladius was covered in the blood of the poor man, his stomach being ravaged. And suddenly, the sword started glowing again. Its purple, vibrating coat came back, while the light would warm the cold, depressing pain the man had to suffer. "I'm sorry.", Jaron said to the man. One more was waiting to swing his weapon, as he was on his right. His steps blew his apparent 'cover'. being deeply surprised, the only thing he had to do was to use the hurt man as a shield. Or, even worse. As a way to kill the man. Turning him, while the sword was still on the other side of his body, it stopped glowing, again. Then, it happened. With a thundering sound, the spectral weapon hit the man, throwing him on the ground, being left unconscious, too. 

    "You can let him go, Master. He has to meet Death on his way to the Land of the Dead.", the Gladius said. As he heard, he nodded, drawing the weapon out of the almost-dead man. There was blood everywhere. Once, a clean, visited place, turned into a land where people had to fight for their lifes, in order to survive. The place turned macabre, into a blink of an eye. People were watching, scared, as the dead body fell on the ground, meeting with the ground, once and forever. But, there was one man in front of him. Part of the swarm, shivering and looking at him, terrified. He didn't want to hurt him, as Jaron didn't want to harm him, either. He smiled and nodded, as the man fled, throwing the weapon on the ground.

    Then, he looked at the other two persons. Ampelos and his guard, fighting people of the crowd, too. They were as competent as he was, but they were fighting so differently and less cruel than him. He rubbed his Gladius to the black coat, before sheathing it away from people's eyes.


  11. "Ah! The smell of powders and magic ingredients i will use for my people is exalting me!"

    Leaving a nearby market, visited mostly by wizards and people who craft magic scrolls for a living, was enjoying his life. The ingredients for the Hex 'nades, which smelled very special, considering their nature, would excite Jaron's senses.

    "It's nowhere as good as enchanting, though. It can't be." He thought, as he was making small steps through the ridiculously large crowd, which would block his vision across the modern, clean street. Several lights were coming from the other shops, especially Floracle, one of the better flower shops, for people with an unsatiable desire for exotic flowers. The muffled sounds around him, people talking, the audible steps taken by the people in heavy boots, used for traversing mountains. Looking at them, they would look the same, but had different colours. "If those are wanderers, they look well prepared for their wanderlust. Quite well, I must say." Most of them had the same, brown colour, but some exceptions had hotter varians of colours. Hot red, hot green. They looked horrible for Jaron's taste, but some people love being eccentric. "That's what they like doing, getting attention, I think." 
    The large crowd that passed by him was now gone. The street was empty again, but he saw something familliar. Something which he wouldn't look over so easily. The short, chestnut hair that would cover his head, drew Jaron's attention from the other people. He was with two other persons. One of them had the hair as white as the silver, catching his sight, once again. But, he realised something. He didn't recognise them because of their hair. He recognised them because of their clothing. They were people from the Dali estate!

    Though, the sudden appearance of a small, shady group drew his attention. They bumped way too obvious, for some reason. Their actions were concealed, but the message was clear. They wanted something from Ampelos and his party. Something which would have never ever be given to others. He touched the hilt of his hidden Gladius, preparing for an incoming battle, as he checked his pocket for one of the two gems he had. Wasn't hard to find, as the other gem was in his mythical sword, which he fought for his life to craft. He stared at one of the persons in the crowd, before shouting at them: "Hey! Stay where you are!" 
    He quickly let his hand out of the pocket, with the gem in his hand. An medium sized aquamarine gem, which looked more polished than the gems one would see at a noble. It had a pale glow, but no one would see it without inspecting it up close. He quickly clenched his fist.

  12. fda3a43358507079f1b17b1d0595e783.jpg


    First name: Jaron


    Nicknames: -

    Alignment: neutral good

    Race: Elf

    Marital Status: Widowed                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

    Gender: Male

    Age: 28

    Role: Part of the Enchantment Guild, in House of Dali



    Voice: Soothing

    Eyes: Hazel

    Complexion: White

    Height: 179cm

    Weight: 73kg

    Build: Athletical

    Hair: Messy, white

    Tattoos/markings: a black, abstract tattoo across his neck and left side of his face.



    Demeanor: Caring, extroverted and enjoys life and his role in the House

    Hopes: being a good Enchanter and living a long, happy life

    Fears: Death and failing

    Likes: Fruits of all kinds

    Dislikes: boredom



    A black coat covering his hips and a leather armour tied to the coat.

    A pair of black trousers and  brown boots


    A self-crafted Gladius, made after a sword in a history book. Its blade is shiny, pure white and the handle is coated in leather; the handle itself is from a tree which is told it has magical capabilities. Because of this, there are four sockets in the handle.




    Ability to enchant weapons, in order to increase their efficiency and power, as well as altering their properties.

    He can create special grenades, but he needs to have materials in order to craft them.

    Knows magic really well, which gives him an upper edge in battles or crafting.

    He has experience in fighting and can take care of himself whenever he gets into trouble.


    He cannot cast magic in battles.

     He is only good at fighting with his Gladius, since it is soulbound.

    He can lose his temper at times.


    His fighting skill is complemented by the sword. The sockets can be filled with rare gems, which confer him some increased power or alter his type of attack, pushing further the term of  ”Enchanter”: It can chain lightning bolts, be lighter and hit faster, the blade can be jagged and cause extreme bleeding and so on. It can be anything Jaron wants, as long as he has the gems; they are rare to find and even harder to craft by himself, since he needs a special gemcrafter for this.


    His parents are teachers of arcane and elemental magic in Joran City, renowned for their skills in teaching. They let Jaron do whatever he loved, since they didn’t want him to be ”enslaved” in Jaron.


    A highly refined person, with a feeling for altering, he is a curious kind, who loved adventuring and creating things. Whenever he was in danger, though, he never stepped back. He went through several weapons, trying them out for several months each, none of them fitting his style. As he was in Union City and had no idea where to look for another weapon, since he tried so many, he decided to go back in Joran city, in order to ask his parents.

    Meeting them after they finished their courses, slightly tired, he asked them for a book which had several antique weapons. They looked in the library with him for one of those books, finding one in the furthest corner from the entrance. It was dusted and stained by drops of coffee and dirt. His parents told him that the book can be extremely useful, but he must take care of what he does, since he can suffer if he tries something stupid.

    Hours later, he opened the book and looked through  the pages, he found an image of a one handed sword, named ”Gladius”; he had no idea what he would go through with crafting this sword, though, but he was happy to craft it and find materials.

    He went far and wide, across Genesaris, in order to find the material for the blade: a very volatile metal, which was known for its rarity and danger, but no one, not even the government would want to use it. He eventually found it in a forest near Kenthlerin, where some cultists, with red capes and purple eyes were researching the metal. He had no choice, other than to kill them. He barely made it out alive, but was it worth it?

    The next material he had to find, and the hardest, was a specific tree, in one of the forests at the base of Mt. Fulgur. This proved to be extremely difficult, since he had to look for a special sign on every tree in the forest. He looked for it for several months, before finding it. He was desperate to create that mythical sword, even though it could prove to be dangerous, but his adventurous kind pushed him further. Finding the tree led to him screaming until he lost his voice for a couple of days, but he didn’t care. As he felt the embrace of the magic from that tree, he didn’t cut it down. Instead, he only chopped a part of its trunk, thus keeping the tree alive for even more years to come.

    After gathering his materials, he went to one of the most famous blacksmiths in Genesaris, who used to also be a good mage. As he heard Jaron’s story and the ambition he had to obtain the materials, he offered to craft his sword for free. A couple of hours later, after polishing the sword to be of an excelent quality, he handed it to Jaron, as he was extremely happy to create such a powerful sword.

    Hours later, the sword started whispering him, a soothing, beautiful whisper only he would hear.

    ”I will stay with you, for you brought me alive. By not killing the tree, you proved your kindness. By the ambition you had, you proved your dedication and worth. I will be your servant, thus accept my gift.”

    Around the sword’s hilt started carving out some spots and connecting them through a line. It eventually stopped carving in the hilt, but Jaron was extremely surprised and frightened. And then, he felt something in his other hand. Two gems, one which was green and the other, blue.

    ”The gems, Jaron, are part of me. They will alter my properties, i will be able to fight the way you want, whenever you want. You are my creator, so i shall let your creativity flourish.”

    The sword, eventually, became a part of himself, not being able to dispose it, throw or lose it. It would call him his Master.

    Months later, he found himself in the Enchanting Guild in House of Dali, sometimes practising with his sword in the free time, or making several tricks on other weapons.

  13. Several chips of wood flew through the tavern, while a quadruped crashed through the wall, breaking a window. Glass was on ground, chips hit a few occupants and there was panic among them. They ran into the furthest corner from the creature, fearing their lifes.

    The Dreamer was helping another person, whose eye was poked out by the flying glass, trying to get him up, while wiping the blood of the injured man off his hand. The person let a shriek, as he heard the creature snarling, once again, towards him. Dreamer moved him behind a  round, intact table he kicked, so the injured man could hide behind it. He crawled and put his hands around the head, fearful of everything that was happening around him.

    "Fear, pain, danger. But there is still a bit of courage here" he said, while looking at the two mysterious persons, while the red-eyed girl snarled at the creature. "But they? They are fearless."

    The quadruped made a few steps towards Dreamer, snarling, once again, while its terrible breath struck him. The horrible stench almost made him wave in the air, to disperse the smell, as he stepped behind, carefully, so the animal wouldn't jump on him.

    But, eventually, it stopped. It let out a howl, while its eyes were fixed on the Dreamer. The front teeth, of a toned down yellow, long and sharp, would betray the animal's hunger for flesh. Dreamer's flesh. As it prepared jumping, the dreamer made more steps back, so the animal has to cover more space, before he could do something. Unfortunately, the animal jumped earlier than expected, almost catching him off guard, but he created a wall, pushing his hands in the air. The wall, transparent, had now stains of blood, as the creature hit itself against the wall, falling on the ground and not even flinching. The wall disappeared and Dreamer created a levitating sword, following him. It moved towards the animal, aiming at its throat, if it would ever wake up again.

  14. [Tolok, around the eastern outskirts of Parrish, in a tree]

    Parrish was now as quiet as a cave where light couldn't enter. No one was there. No one was crying, screaming or running, it was just complete silence, marking the beginning of Parrish as a ghost town. 

    "Such a beautiful town suffering this fate. War should have never existed."

    The multitude of the colours representing the city, the skyscrapers and the once beautiful gates of the city were now faded. A faded colour, maybe because no one would keep the city alive anymore. It was a truly depressing vista.

    And Tolok felt his right hand itchy. As he tried standing in a tree, being able to see everything and not making too much noise, he had to scratch his hand. "One move at a time..." he suddenly stopped as he saw two people from afar, one approaching his place and the other entering the city, they looked faster than usual and Tolok didn't like what he saw, "Are these scouts? They don't look like the Cult, but they are pretty fast and I have no idea if I've been spotted. But maybe I can scratch my right hand a bit."

    As he reached his right hand and scratching it, in a rather safe and comfortable position, he also looked for the backpack; it was still there, behind the log.

    "I seriously have trusting issues nowadays, with this stupid invasion. I could have just fled to another continent. I just hope the 2 persons are not with the Cult."

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