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An Aetolian's Tale
Author: McSidney 2020-10-04 15:08:13

Zor Empire, Ascesion Age As/A: 3084
Magic and dark sorcery, monsters and creatures were far from being a myth, they were as real as the fluff of a cat's fur: Dangerous, mysterious, and strictly outlawed. The emperors were careful for any opposition.
The leadership was as it has always been in a typical dilapidated era, ruled by power hungry lords: The Ekryons, emperors and rulers of the four empires in the only surviving continent.
"Doom" was what those tugging within the confines of the lower echleons of Zor, called their emperor. Who could blame them; scraping crumbs and threshing their nails just to survive... Well that's not a life worth living, but yet a few survived the hardship, and dared venture the wilderness. They had no choice, they couldn't cross over to the kingdoms in the upper echleon, so bliss was as thin as a stretched massless string.
A hero? A super hero? Not even superman could stand the heat, kryptonite won't be his only bane, starvation will. But if there were, then he'd be ploughing the harsh soil, or robbing off a rich merchant.
By kicking through the stabbing blizzard, those in the kingdoms of the lower echleons accepted their fates, hoping not to die in their sleeps, or by the silver fangs of the guillotine.
Yet, sarvation and poverty and death, became the least of their worries this very night, as it all grew darker with despair, the clouds hid the moon and shielded off her lights; preventing them from reaching the earth. The sky roared thunderously, and unsettled lightening pierced with joy between the clouds.
A ritual began with the banging of drums, the swirl dance of maidens, a slaughter, and the Sorcerer's chants.
Three stood upon the altar; naked and ready to receive of the Emperor's blessing. A curse they were prepared to bear for the purpose of the Empire. The Mountains of Eleàd at its very peak, gathered five men and no more; The Emperor, his sorcerer and those chosen to be blessed.
Each man perfectly trained in the arts compatible with the blessing he will receive, a blessing to offer chaos, and wroth destruction.
As these men ingest the Emperor's blood, the sorcerer chants out a unique spell which causes them to writ in an unsurmountable form of agony; a price for power which were mere scraps of the Emperor's darkness.
His powers surges through them, bulging through their vein, cracking their bones, and exploding in its fullness, until they fully became one with it."You know your mission -" The Emperor's elegant yet commanding voice, pierced fear into the hearts of the three. "Do not fail me. Find them and offer me their heads, or I will have your head and the head of those you find dear."
"Yes my Lord!"
They chorused and dispersed in all three different direction.
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