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Every so often the world finds itself in need of a hero, and every so often the world finds that hero. And as most heroes do, they end up being shining examples of justice and are always on the straight and narrow path of good, all the while becoming incredibly famous along the way. But what happens when that hero… Is capable of far greater evil than his adversary? What happens… Is a tale that is so unbelievable, so farfetched. That if anyone heard it that was not alive to witness the even, they would say that you were completely insane and consider that you seek therapy. Now… I have lived a long time, long enough to remember trees and grass, Blues skies and oceans, when children were children and their parents had a handle on them. Back when it took weeks to send someone on the other side of the country a message instead of almost instantaneous. Eternal youth is a rather ironic statement. As much as the world changes even though your body does not you still feel like the oldest thing in the world. But even considering all that I have seen and done. If you were to tell me the story that I am about to tell you and tell me that it actually happened. Why, I’d think you were either completely mad or some sort of druggy who hadn’t had his fix lately. But I can assure you that it did happen. Back when the ancestors of the Garou, The Elves and Werefolk, still walked the land. When magic was as real as you and me. Back before cars or electricity and when thoughts of going into outer space were incomprehensible. Back to a time of wonderful tales and great deeds, a time of lost, forgotten, edited, renewed, and fallen Legends.
Fallen Legends
Chapter one.
Days of our youth
It was just like any other day in the village of Sweet Water. The sun was shining, the livestock were out grazing peacefully, Adults were going about their business as normal, and the children were, as always, being children.
Blood sprayed onto the steps leading up to the town church as a youth fell onto them after receiving a powerful blow to the face. Everything was still spinning when he felt a strong tug on his short hair and was thrown backwards onto the cobblestone road and a foot smashed into his stomach causing him to cough out another wad of blood. “What‘d you say to me you half elf piece of shit?” Came a nasally voice above the bloodied youth. What then entered the half elf’s field of vision looked almost exactly like a pig, Flat nose, beady eyes, Bad teeth, and a stench that would make even the homeless gag. “It almost sounded like you insulted me.” He turned to the group of boys behind him that had been cheering him on. “You fellows heard him didn’t you?” “Sure did Brase.” Replied the smallest of the bunch. “Da mutt said dat you go out in da fields at nigh’ an crew da aminals.” The half elf couldn’t help but laugh at the small boys’ speech. “Ah Tiggy. Your linguistic skills are unmatched even by the most sophisticated of men.” Even though the one called Tiggy wasn’t the brightest of people the half elf was still surprised when Tiggy thanked him for what he assumed was a complement even when it was thickly laced with sarcasm. The half elf snickered and shook his head. “Bless his little backwoods hea *whack* ART!” He instinctively curled into a ball as Brase stomped on his chest that time. The half elf was sure that he felt a rib or two crack from the blow. Brase yelled at him. “DID I TELL YOU THAT YOU COULD SPEACK MUTT? No, I didn’t! Sod it. I’m done with this.” He sat crouched down over the half elf, grabbed him by the throat, and pulled out a small knife which he then pressed up against the half elf’s throat just above his other hand.
“Gimme one reason.” Brase said through his teeth. “C’mon! One good reason mutt!” The half elf winced as the knife bit into his neck. “One reason? Okay. Um.” He paused as he searched for an answer. “I got two.” He finally responded with some difficulty. “One is that if you don’t kill me here then you’ll have to see me again tomorrow and I know you’d rather just finish me off here and now.” “And the second one?” Asked Brase angrily. The half elf inhaled sharply as he prepared himself for what would come next. “I’m the reason why your parents found you screwing your sister.” It happened so suddenly that the half elf didn’t notice that the knife had left his neck until Brase started to punch him in the face repeatedly all while screaming and cursing at him. It was only a few seconds but it felt like half an hour to the half elf before someone pulled Brase off of him.
“Just what in God’s name are you doing!?” Yelled the last voice that the half elf wanted to hear. It belonged to Father Petrose Navelia. A rather portly middle aged man, Father Petrose had only recently taken over the town church as bishop due to the death of the previous one, Father Sorel Dacof. Sporting a comb-over to try and hide the obvious disappearance of much of his hair, Petrose carried himself much like what you’d expect from a Bishop, with his head held high and his nose turned upwards. The half elf winced as he stood up and limped away, hoping to get away from the scene as soon as possible. That hope was quickly shattered however when Petrose grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back over to the group of boys now all standing around looking like beaten dogs. Petrose shoved the half elf forwards, pushing him to the ground. ”What did I tell you?” Petrose asked while glaring at the boys. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” He screamed, sending spittle raining down on the back of the half elf’s head. “Not in front of the church.” Muttered Brase. “To not WHAT In front of the church?” Petrose snapped back. Brase winced as though he had just been slapped. “To not bother the mutt.” Petrose smiled and nodded. “That’s right. Now I don’t give a damn what you do to this half blooded bastard. Slit his throat, beat him to death, burn him at a stake, or even string him up and let the crows have him. Either way you’re doing the town a service getting rid of this vile thing. But I do ask that you control yourselves near the church. Because contrary to what many think, there are things that God hates even worse than Elves. He also hates seeing places of worship defiled by their blood. And incase you have forgotten. This place has already bore that curse once before. Now.” Petrose looked at the blood on the steps leading up to the front door. “Clean this filth up before I have the lot of you working in the stables for the rest of your lives.” He then glared down at the half elf. “You’re coming with me.” He roughly seized the half elf by the arm and proceeded to literally drag him away.
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He didn’t know how long he had been under. His lungs had been pleading for air for some time now. But despite the lack of air he felt at peace, relaxed even. Something about having his head underwater had a calming effect on the half elf‘s mind. Though eventually he had to resurface. He pulled his head out of the sink filled with water and gasped for air. “Whenever you’re done trying to drown yourself you think you could pay a little attention?” Said a gruff voice coming from the other side of the room. Father Petrose had taken the half elf to a nearby Physician to get him cleaned up. The half elf knew this wasn’t out of kindness though. This was so when Petrose punished him everyone would know which wounds were from his punishment and which were from the earlier beating. The boys that attacked him earlier got off easy. He wouldn’t be so lucky. Chances were that he’d be locked up for a day or two in either the local prison or out in the stocks. The half elf preferred the prison considering it gave him some peace and quiet for a few days. At least in there he didn’t have random people pissing on him or throwing feces at him. Not that he wasn’t used to it though. Xenophobia towards those with elven blood was nothing new to the world of Terondil. Humans and elves had never been on good terms since the humans first landed on the western continent two thousand years ago. The humans claimed that it was their manifest destiny that they ruled over all of Terondil for they were Gods’ chosen people. This notion was challenged by non other than the elven Goddess herself, who rather enjoyed flaunting her godhood in front of the humans. However they almost immediately claimed that she was the great antagonist to their God and deemed her and her people as evil monstrosities that must be purged off the face of the world. War broke out and the humans managed to conquer most of the northern part of the continent until the elves begged for a truce after the death of their Goddess. Centuries later and the humans still hold on to the old beliefs.
“I’m talking to you mutt.” The physician snapped causing the half elf to break out of his daze. “Yeah umm… Sorry bout that.” He muttered. The physician sighed angrily. “Whatever. Look., The only reason you’re here is cause Father Petrose doesn’t want you bleeding all over the church, You’re not too banged up so I ain’t gonna waste my time on you. So get your shit and get outta my office before someone sees you in here…” The physician sneered at the half elf and walked out of the small office. The half elf snorted when the door slammed shut. “Yeah thanks for nothing.” He looked at himself in the mirror that hung above the sink and blew a strand of his black hair out of his face. One good look was all it took to know his heritage. His slightly pointed ears gave away his elven blood but the stubble on his face pointed to human as elves were without any body hair. Those two features plus his mismatched colored eyes (one light green the other light blue) which was a very common trait in half elves made it almost impossible for him not to be noticed. He drained the water out of the sink and walked out of the room and towards his fate at the hands of Father Petrose.
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The windowless room he sat in was plain and dreary. Lit only by candle light the shadows on the wall made the depressing room much less appealing. The man sitting in the seat in front of the half elf was even less appealing. Father Petrose glared at the half elf with such rage that the candle fire that reflected in his glasses seemed rather appropriate. “I’m going to cut right to the chase mutt.” He growled. “I know for a fact, that an item within my possession which recently disappeared was stolen. Now, this object is of rather significant importance to not only myself, but to other people with very high connections.” He stood up and began to pace around the room. “There’s just one small problem you see.” He reached up for a small chest that was on the top shelf of the bookcase that stood next to the door. He put the small chest on the table where the half elf was seated and opened it to reveal that the chest was empty. “The item in question was placed inside this chest for safekeeping.” Petrose said quietly. “But as you can obviously see, the chest is empty. Now… What do you think that means?” Petrose asked in a sarcastic manner. “I dunno.” The half elf shrugged. “Maybe one of your lackeys took it? How should I know what happens to your stuff? I try to stay as far away from you as possible.” Petrose scowled. “I’ll have you know that I’ve already questioned my so called “Lackeys” and none of them had it. And I know that you don’t have it. So that leaves just one other person. That… Friend of yours. The uh… the girl, whatever her name is.” The half elf snorted with contempt and crossed his arms. “So if it’s not me that causes problems around here then obviously it’s Kit huh?” He leaned back in the chair and smirked. “Well even IF she’s the one who took your…whatever. What makes you think that I’d turn her in?” Petrose grinned wickedly. “Well then let me put this in simple terms for you. If that object isn’t returned to me before tomorrow, I’ll break my promise to the late Father Sorel and turn you over to the Inquisition.” With the Inquisitions’ favorite pastime being hunting, torturing, and executing those with even a drop of elven blood the young half elf was unable to object. He let out a sigh of defeat as he stood up and opened the door leading out to an alleyway beside the church. “Fine, I’ll find the damn thing for you. But I need to know what exactly I’m looking for first.” Petrose laughed as he shook his head. “Now now, you and I both know that if you have faith, God will lead you straight to it and give you a sign once you find it.” He said in a slightly sarcastic manner just before pushing the half elf out and slamming the door shut. The half elf then realized that he had been sent on nothing more than a wild duck chase and growled under his breath. “Well shit, this day just keeps getting better and better.” As he exited the alley he came face to face with Brase and his gang. All of who were armed with crudely made wooden clubs. “Heya mutt.” Said Brase as he examined his club almost lovingly. “Fancy meeting you here.” He finished in a rather cheerful tone of voice.
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His feet were wet. He didn’t know if that’s what woke him or the sound of the horse and buggy going across the bridge above him. The half elf knew how he went from walking into Brase to waking up under the bridge. They had killed him, simple as that. They had beat him to death with their clubs and tossed his body into the river. And hell spat him back out into his body again. He could still smell the smoke and feel the heat of the flames, though it was far more likely that the flames were from a fire that went out long ago as opposed to the flames of hell. Though that particular fire never really went out, not completely.
It wasn’t until he noticed the bandages that his mind started to work properly. He hadn’t died. And it was possible that they hadn’t thrown him into the river. He wouldn’t have woken in his old hiding spot if they had, It was too far upstream. Trying to get his bearings he took note of the area. He was underneath the northern bridge where he and Kitya used to play back when they where younger. Old and worn drawing and carvings covered the surface of the underside of the bridge. He gingerly sat up and sighed, wondering when his savior would make an appearance.
Fallen Legends
Chapter one.
Days of our youth
It was just like any other day in the village of Sweet Water. The sun was shining, the livestock were out grazing peacefully, Adults were going about their business as normal, and the children were, as always, being children.
Blood sprayed onto the steps leading up to the town church as a youth fell onto them after receiving a powerful blow to the face. Everything was still spinning when he felt a strong tug on his short hair and was thrown backwards onto the cobblestone road and a foot smashed into his stomach causing him to cough out another wad of blood. “What‘d you say to me you half elf piece of shit?” Came a nasally voice above the bloodied youth. What then entered the half elf’s field of vision looked almost exactly like a pig, Flat nose, beady eyes, Bad teeth, and a stench that would make even the homeless gag. “It almost sounded like you insulted me.” He turned to the group of boys behind him that had been cheering him on. “You fellows heard him didn’t you?” “Sure did Brase.” Replied the smallest of the bunch. “Da mutt said dat you go out in da fields at nigh’ an crew da aminals.” The half elf couldn’t help but laugh at the small boys’ speech. “Ah Tiggy. Your linguistic skills are unmatched even by the most sophisticated of men.” Even though the one called Tiggy wasn’t the brightest of people the half elf was still surprised when Tiggy thanked him for what he assumed was a complement even when it was thickly laced with sarcasm. The half elf snickered and shook his head. “Bless his little backwoods hea *whack* ART!” He instinctively curled into a ball as Brase stomped on his chest that time. The half elf was sure that he felt a rib or two crack from the blow. Brase yelled at him. “DID I TELL YOU THAT YOU COULD SPEACK MUTT? No, I didn’t! Sod it. I’m done with this.” He sat crouched down over the half elf, grabbed him by the throat, and pulled out a small knife which he then pressed up against the half elf’s throat just above his other hand.
“Gimme one reason.” Brase said through his teeth. “C’mon! One good reason mutt!” The half elf winced as the knife bit into his neck. “One reason? Okay. Um.” He paused as he searched for an answer. “I got two.” He finally responded with some difficulty. “One is that if you don’t kill me here then you’ll have to see me again tomorrow and I know you’d rather just finish me off here and now.” “And the second one?” Asked Brase angrily. The half elf inhaled sharply as he prepared himself for what would come next. “I’m the reason why your parents found you screwing your sister.” It happened so suddenly that the half elf didn’t notice that the knife had left his neck until Brase started to punch him in the face repeatedly all while screaming and cursing at him. It was only a few seconds but it felt like half an hour to the half elf before someone pulled Brase off of him.
“Just what in God’s name are you doing!?” Yelled the last voice that the half elf wanted to hear. It belonged to Father Petrose Navelia. A rather portly middle aged man, Father Petrose had only recently taken over the town church as bishop due to the death of the previous one, Father Sorel Dacof. Sporting a comb-over to try and hide the obvious disappearance of much of his hair, Petrose carried himself much like what you’d expect from a Bishop, with his head held high and his nose turned upwards. The half elf winced as he stood up and limped away, hoping to get away from the scene as soon as possible. That hope was quickly shattered however when Petrose grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back over to the group of boys now all standing around looking like beaten dogs. Petrose shoved the half elf forwards, pushing him to the ground. ”What did I tell you?” Petrose asked while glaring at the boys. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” He screamed, sending spittle raining down on the back of the half elf’s head. “Not in front of the church.” Muttered Brase. “To not WHAT In front of the church?” Petrose snapped back. Brase winced as though he had just been slapped. “To not bother the mutt.” Petrose smiled and nodded. “That’s right. Now I don’t give a damn what you do to this half blooded bastard. Slit his throat, beat him to death, burn him at a stake, or even string him up and let the crows have him. Either way you’re doing the town a service getting rid of this vile thing. But I do ask that you control yourselves near the church. Because contrary to what many think, there are things that God hates even worse than Elves. He also hates seeing places of worship defiled by their blood. And incase you have forgotten. This place has already bore that curse once before. Now.” Petrose looked at the blood on the steps leading up to the front door. “Clean this filth up before I have the lot of you working in the stables for the rest of your lives.” He then glared down at the half elf. “You’re coming with me.” He roughly seized the half elf by the arm and proceeded to literally drag him away.
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He didn’t know how long he had been under. His lungs had been pleading for air for some time now. But despite the lack of air he felt at peace, relaxed even. Something about having his head underwater had a calming effect on the half elf‘s mind. Though eventually he had to resurface. He pulled his head out of the sink filled with water and gasped for air. “Whenever you’re done trying to drown yourself you think you could pay a little attention?” Said a gruff voice coming from the other side of the room. Father Petrose had taken the half elf to a nearby Physician to get him cleaned up. The half elf knew this wasn’t out of kindness though. This was so when Petrose punished him everyone would know which wounds were from his punishment and which were from the earlier beating. The boys that attacked him earlier got off easy. He wouldn’t be so lucky. Chances were that he’d be locked up for a day or two in either the local prison or out in the stocks. The half elf preferred the prison considering it gave him some peace and quiet for a few days. At least in there he didn’t have random people pissing on him or throwing feces at him. Not that he wasn’t used to it though. Xenophobia towards those with elven blood was nothing new to the world of Terondil. Humans and elves had never been on good terms since the humans first landed on the western continent two thousand years ago. The humans claimed that it was their manifest destiny that they ruled over all of Terondil for they were Gods’ chosen people. This notion was challenged by non other than the elven Goddess herself, who rather enjoyed flaunting her godhood in front of the humans. However they almost immediately claimed that she was the great antagonist to their God and deemed her and her people as evil monstrosities that must be purged off the face of the world. War broke out and the humans managed to conquer most of the northern part of the continent until the elves begged for a truce after the death of their Goddess. Centuries later and the humans still hold on to the old beliefs.
“I’m talking to you mutt.” The physician snapped causing the half elf to break out of his daze. “Yeah umm… Sorry bout that.” He muttered. The physician sighed angrily. “Whatever. Look., The only reason you’re here is cause Father Petrose doesn’t want you bleeding all over the church, You’re not too banged up so I ain’t gonna waste my time on you. So get your shit and get outta my office before someone sees you in here…” The physician sneered at the half elf and walked out of the small office. The half elf snorted when the door slammed shut. “Yeah thanks for nothing.” He looked at himself in the mirror that hung above the sink and blew a strand of his black hair out of his face. One good look was all it took to know his heritage. His slightly pointed ears gave away his elven blood but the stubble on his face pointed to human as elves were without any body hair. Those two features plus his mismatched colored eyes (one light green the other light blue) which was a very common trait in half elves made it almost impossible for him not to be noticed. He drained the water out of the sink and walked out of the room and towards his fate at the hands of Father Petrose.
____________________________
The windowless room he sat in was plain and dreary. Lit only by candle light the shadows on the wall made the depressing room much less appealing. The man sitting in the seat in front of the half elf was even less appealing. Father Petrose glared at the half elf with such rage that the candle fire that reflected in his glasses seemed rather appropriate. “I’m going to cut right to the chase mutt.” He growled. “I know for a fact, that an item within my possession which recently disappeared was stolen. Now, this object is of rather significant importance to not only myself, but to other people with very high connections.” He stood up and began to pace around the room. “There’s just one small problem you see.” He reached up for a small chest that was on the top shelf of the bookcase that stood next to the door. He put the small chest on the table where the half elf was seated and opened it to reveal that the chest was empty. “The item in question was placed inside this chest for safekeeping.” Petrose said quietly. “But as you can obviously see, the chest is empty. Now… What do you think that means?” Petrose asked in a sarcastic manner. “I dunno.” The half elf shrugged. “Maybe one of your lackeys took it? How should I know what happens to your stuff? I try to stay as far away from you as possible.” Petrose scowled. “I’ll have you know that I’ve already questioned my so called “Lackeys” and none of them had it. And I know that you don’t have it. So that leaves just one other person. That… Friend of yours. The uh… the girl, whatever her name is.” The half elf snorted with contempt and crossed his arms. “So if it’s not me that causes problems around here then obviously it’s Kit huh?” He leaned back in the chair and smirked. “Well even IF she’s the one who took your…whatever. What makes you think that I’d turn her in?” Petrose grinned wickedly. “Well then let me put this in simple terms for you. If that object isn’t returned to me before tomorrow, I’ll break my promise to the late Father Sorel and turn you over to the Inquisition.” With the Inquisitions’ favorite pastime being hunting, torturing, and executing those with even a drop of elven blood the young half elf was unable to object. He let out a sigh of defeat as he stood up and opened the door leading out to an alleyway beside the church. “Fine, I’ll find the damn thing for you. But I need to know what exactly I’m looking for first.” Petrose laughed as he shook his head. “Now now, you and I both know that if you have faith, God will lead you straight to it and give you a sign once you find it.” He said in a slightly sarcastic manner just before pushing the half elf out and slamming the door shut. The half elf then realized that he had been sent on nothing more than a wild duck chase and growled under his breath. “Well shit, this day just keeps getting better and better.” As he exited the alley he came face to face with Brase and his gang. All of who were armed with crudely made wooden clubs. “Heya mutt.” Said Brase as he examined his club almost lovingly. “Fancy meeting you here.” He finished in a rather cheerful tone of voice.
______________________________
His feet were wet. He didn’t know if that’s what woke him or the sound of the horse and buggy going across the bridge above him. The half elf knew how he went from walking into Brase to waking up under the bridge. They had killed him, simple as that. They had beat him to death with their clubs and tossed his body into the river. And hell spat him back out into his body again. He could still smell the smoke and feel the heat of the flames, though it was far more likely that the flames were from a fire that went out long ago as opposed to the flames of hell. Though that particular fire never really went out, not completely.
It wasn’t until he noticed the bandages that his mind started to work properly. He hadn’t died. And it was possible that they hadn’t thrown him into the river. He wouldn’t have woken in his old hiding spot if they had, It was too far upstream. Trying to get his bearings he took note of the area. He was underneath the northern bridge where he and Kitya used to play back when they where younger. Old and worn drawing and carvings covered the surface of the underside of the bridge. He gingerly sat up and sighed, wondering when his savior would make an appearance.
