Forums / Roleplaying / Birth of a Legend
| Birth of a Legend | ||||
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Birth of a Legend Mr. Grubbel owned a small stall in the market of Unnar. Business was good, as he was known as a kind man, and his food was known to be fresh. Grubbel was not born in Unnar, but Grestall, but he had lived in Unnar for thirty years and was well known and liked by the people. But the day a thief attempted to steal from him, his kindness gave him a son. A boy of ten weaved his way through a crowd, the old and torn overalls drew few glances as people went about their business. The boy walked for five minutes before reaching a fruit stall, the boy eyed the fruit, his stomach begging him to take only one apple, but the boy waited, he didn't want to be caught. After a customer left and the old man that owned the stall turned his head, the boy made his move. He grabbed an apple and began walking away, after walking into an alleyway he was about to eat, but a strong hand grabbed his arm. "Now, what do you think you're doing boy?" asked a voice. The boy looked at the hand to see it was gloved in leather, and looked up to see that the voice came from the mouth of a town guard. "I bought this!" yelled the boy. "Of course you did!" yelled the guard, "That's why you didn't pay my good friend Mister Grubbel for it!" The boy swallowed, he had heard that thieves had their hands cut off for stealing in Unnar. The guard lifted the boy up with one arm. "Come", he ordered. The boy was taken back to the stall, Mr. Grubbel was cutting an apple for a snack. "Hesten, I caught this boy stealing an apple from your stall, I will let you pick the punishment", said the guard. The boy looked pleadingly at Grubbel, and Grubbel frowned. "Well now, a thief? You know boy, the last thief to steal from me is in the town jail, as he could not afford to pay his fine...but I have never had one as young as yourself steal from me. Where are your parents?", asked Grubbel. "My parents?" asked the boy. "You know, your mother and father", said Grubbel. "They...they're dead", answered the boy. "An orphan stealing to feed his hungery mouth?" asked Grubbel, "Chop off his hands..." The guard took the boy to a block in the middle of the market and placed his arm on it. He used two metal shackles to hold the arm down and drew his sword. "You're lucky I keep my sword sharp boy", said the guard in a menacing tone. He brought his blade up, the boy eyed in, knowing that soon, the arm he had used to steal an apple would soon be stolen from him. | ||||
The blade came down and hit the block right next to the boy's arm. The guard unshackled the boy's arm and took him back to Grubbel. "I would not have Corvus here chop off your hand boy, now, eat the apple and help me pack up my stall...", said the Grubbel. The boy ate the apple he had stolen, but then recieved, and for thirty minutes the boy helped Grubbel pack up his stall, he had no idea how to do anything except steal, but he soon learned how to help Mr. Grubbel. Grubbel took the boy home with him, where he let him bathe, he gave him a set of clothes that had belonged to his son, but his son had long since grown to adulthood and moved out of town. They were a pair of brown trousers, a white shirt, and a pair of leather shoes. Grubbel then gave the boy a loaf of bread. "Now, I will let you live in my home, I will feed you, give you clothes when yours become worn. I have already given you your arm today, now all I ask is that you work as my assistant in my stall", said Grubbel. "Thank you Mister Grubbel", said the boy. "Now, what is your name?" asked Grubbel. "I...I don't have one", said the boy. "Well, then we'll need to give you one...hmmmmm...how does Ereptor sound?" asked Grubbel. "It sounds good", said the boy. "It means thief in the old language, I will show you your room", said Grubbel. And so the thief who stole one of Grubbel's apples became Ereptor. Ereptor learned a lesson that day, he learned that stealing was not necessary when you could work for your goals. For seven ye*beep*reptor helped Hesten Grubbel, and for six years Grubbel gave him food, water, shelter, clothing, and advice. Grubbel soon began to call Ereptor his son, and Erestor called Grubbel his father. A great bond grew between them. Grubbel raised Ereptor well, and Ereptor grew into a good man. Hesten Grubbel died in his sleep on the twenty-first day of the third month when Ereptor was sixteen, he died with a smile on his face. "Well Ereptor, you have no last name?" asked the man in front of him. "I don't", said Ereptor. Versen Grubbel, Hesten Grubbel's only son, walked into the office and sat in a wooden chair. His hair was black, but graying, and he sported a goatee. "I am Versen Grubbel and I have come for my inheritence", said Versen. "Well Mister Grubbel, it seems as if the will was changed one year ago. You are to recieve this letter, and Ereptor here is to recieve Hesten's home, property, and business", said the man. "What!?" exclaimed Versen, quite alarmed, he turned to Ereptor, "Tell them that it was a lie, a joke!" "It wasn't, he changed it a year ago, I was a witness", said the man. Versen got up from his chair. "He was my father!" yelled Versen, "I am of his blood!" "For twenty years, you never even visited him!" yelled Ereptor, now angered by Versen. Versen, shocked by the insult, said nothing. "Hesten Grubbel's only son never even sent him letters! I am his true son, not you", said Ereptor. "Versen, Ereptor, it does not matter, now here is your envelope Mister Grubbel, and here is your paper work, I need you to sign here, here, and here", said the man. Versen read the letter while Ereptor signed the papers, afterwards, he was given a key and the deed to Hesten's home, along with a bag of gold coins. Versen crumpled up the paper and threw it at the wall before storming out of the room. Ereptor shook the man's hand and walked over to the wall, where he grabbed the letter and put it in his pocket. Ereptor then took his deed and left the building. Upon returning to his home, Ereptor uncrumpled and read the letter, it said: Dear Versen, Signed, Your father, Hesten Grubbel. | ||||
Ereptor felt for Versen, but at the same time, he disliked him all the more. Hesten had wanted a son, and he found it in a thief rather than his own flesh and blood. His own son hadn't communicated with him for twenty years, and Versen expected to have the house, Ereptor would have done the same thing as Hesten. Ereptor dismissed the thought from his mind and sat down in Hesten's old leather chair. Hesten's money was enough to last a month without a job, but no longer, Ereptor had to find a job, and soon. Ereptor ate dinner and went up to his room, wanting to leave Hesten's room alone, at least for a while, out of respect. He fell asleep after a half an hour, in that time he thought about his late foster father and let a few tears fall down his cheeks. Ereptor woke up early in the morning and ate two apples, a slice of bread, and a small chunk of meat for breakfast. Afterwards, he walked down to the city guard office. The guard that had nearly chopped off his hand six years before was walking out as he walked in. "Well, if it isn't the thief, I heard about Hesten, he was a good friend", said Corvus. "He was a good father", said Ereptor. Ereptor walked in and approached a guard at a desk, he was missing his left hand and he looked to be nearly sixty. "Well hello young man, what is it you need?" asked the guard. "I would like to become a city guard", said Ereptor. "A guard? Well, okay, we are short handed, what's your name?" asked the guard. "I am Ereptor", replied Ereptor. "Thief? Not a fitting name for a guard, we shall call you Ferrus", said the guard. "Ferrus? What does it mean?" asked Ereptor. "It means sword lad", said the guard, "My name is Cecil by the way, what experience do you have with weapons?" "None", replied Ferrus. "Well, we have to fix that too, go train with young Charley in the other room", said Cecil. "Alright, who's the guard Captain?" asked Ferrus. "Corvus is, he's out doing his rounds right now", said Cecil. "Alright, thank you, how many of us are there?" asked Ferrus. "Do you EVER stop asking questions? My god, you're like my wife! Well, to answer your question, there are ten of us", said Cecil. Not wanting to annoy Cecil, Ferrus walked off to the armory and grabs a leather breastplate with the town crest of a lion sewn into it. Ferrus put on a pair of leather gloves, leather boots, leather greaves, and picked up a wooden shield with iron plating at the front. He buckled an iron longsword before walking out to the training grounds. Moving in leather armor was much different than moving in regular clothing, and Ferrus barely got used to it as he approached Charlie in the training room. "I am Ferrus, Cecil told me to come and train with you", said Ferrus. "Well hello there Ferrus, I am Charlie, son of Ernest. Well, prepare yourself", said Charlie. Ferrus draws his blade and holds his shield ready, Ferrus went and retrieved a wooden training sword and a wooden shield, he set his shield and sword against the wall and approached Charlie. Charlie attacked ferociously, but clumsily, with his wooden sword and Ferrus blocked like a novice. Another guard approached. "What're you two *beep*s doing? That's not how you fight! Don't hold your sword like that Charlie, and if you block like that you're likely to get your arm dislocated, what's your name?" asked the guard. "I am Ferrus, son of Hesten", said Ferrus. "I am Helvus, son of Baenlon, good to meet you, I'll help you two learn to fight, used to be in the army", said Helvus. And so a long, painful, but worthwhile training session began. Every night Ferrus would return home with many bruises and welts. They were painful, but at the end of the week he was as good a swordsman as any of the guard, he could use his shield well, and could run well in leather armor. | ||||
Ferrus walked into the guard compound where Corvus had told them to come. In the four years, the city guard had gained thirty new members, now totalling forty. Ferrus walked up to the crowd and listened. "Guards of Unnar! Emperor Cadon Bethilor has asked that all city guards send three quarters of their numbers to Fort Hunsor near Grestall, as the war with Faron hasn't been going well. I have picked thirty men at random to go, good luck men, you leave tomorrow morning", said Corvus before walking off. Ferrus approached the wall to find his name on the list, he sighed, and somehow knew beforehand that he would be on the list. Ferrus approached Charley. "You get picked", asked Ferrus. "I didn't", answered Charley. "Well, I did, when I return, if I return, I'll by the drinks", said Ferrus before walking home. He ate dinner and went to bed, planning to wake up early the next morning. The next morning he ate what he knew would be his last breakfast in Unnar for a long while, he threw the rest of the food away, knowing it would definately rot. He then walked out to the fountain at the entrance of town where the guards would be meeting. He waited until a group of ten guard arrived, followed by five more, and followed by a final eleven, three had left deserted. Ferrus followed Helvus, who had been selected, off towards Fort Hunsor. The Fort was massive, over thirty foot high walls, fifteen feet thick, with gates so thick even a dragon couldn't break through them. Ferrus noticed that even with all of the fortifications, a fort with a skeleton defense force couldn't defend it. The war had been going on for twenty years, back in the first ten years of the war the Bethilian Empire was winning the war, but after that, two whole legions deserted, leaving the Bethilian Empire with a tiny army, they had held out since then, and they would continue to hold out. Ferrus entered the fort and noticed that only around ten guards were stationed on the walls as archers, and the entire population of the fort consisted of only fifty men. The new arrival of thirty town guards raised the spirits of the fort a little bit, but not much. They were to be trained with heavy armor, where Ferrus had been used to leather, they were to also use kite shields rather than round shields, the next six months would be a hard six months. | ||||
Dang, I didn't copy and paste that correctly, this was meant to come first:
For four years he worked as a guard, Unnar was not a crime filled place, and Ferrus gladly never had to use his sword. The most he had to ever do was punch a man who had attacked him after a few too many drinks. Ferrus enjoyed his career, but a far greater destiny awaited him.
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Next bitty please! :P | ||||
Ferrus sat in the middle of over a thousand soldiers from many of the Forts across the land, they were to attack the Hosurian camp outside of Bethilon. Ferrus wished he had deserted with the three guards in Unnar as they marched towards the enemy camp, they were suspecting nothing from the back, as they thought the troops already in the capital to be the last ones left. General Antonis Xarxes rode at the front with many other officers. The army soon reached the camp and began it's assault at night, when the enemies were asleep, ten men were selected for the mission of slaying the sentries guarding the camp, they completed their mission, and one hundred hand-picked men entered the camp, after an hour, over five thousand men were dead by slit throats, with not one Bethilian dead. The victory had raised the morale of the army, and had been the first for Ferrus, even though he hadn't even fought. The next battle would prove more exciting. Ferrus sat upon the walls of Vorson, a large city one hundred miles from Bethilon. It was a major training center for Bethilian troops, which was the reason one thousand enemy troops were a half a mile out of town. Ferrus knew that this confrontation could not be avoided, and had kept his blade in great condition. He did everything he could to insure that he would survive the battle, and yet he still felt a feeling of dread upon him. He knew that he would have to kill, would have to take fathers and sons away from families, he knew that every man he was to kill would be missed. Ferrus suddenly felt a feeling deep in his stomach, and proceeded to throw up. He felt a little better, but still felt a deep sorrow inside him. The Hosurian Army approached the walls, and Ferrus sat crouched against the wall, Helvus kicked him and yelled, "Get up!" before running off. Ferrus got up and picked up a dead archer's bow, it's previous owner had been shot through the neck with an arrow, Ferrus hoped he would have better luck. He pulled the quiver off the corpse and slung it across his back, he took an arrow out and shot out into the mass, he wondered if he had killed anybody before shooting another, his third shot was interupted by a yell from Helvus. "They've breached the gates!", he yelled. Ferrus drew his blade and ran down to the gates to see many soldiers who looked about as tired of battle as many Bethilians running through the gate. Ferrus ran forward and slashed at one, but it was blocked by the enemy's blade. Ferrus blocked two more strikes with his shield before delivering a chop with his longsword, the soldier couldn't bring up his shield in time, and the blade went into his head. That was it, that was his first kill, his first victory, and yet it did not feel how he thought it would feel, he thought it would leave a void in him, but it instead fueled his bloodlust. He stabbed his blade through an already occupied soldier's neck and turned around, he smashed an enemy's head with his shield, dazing him, before stabbing his blade into the enemy's waistline, he pulled the blade out and chopped off the enemy's head. He yelled a harsh roar before turning around and finding another enemy combating a Bethilian soldier, Ferrus ran forward and cut his battle short by chopping the enemy's head off, he then turned and began fighting another enemy. With each victory, killing became easier for Ferrus, the battle lasted thirty more minutes, at the end, Ferrus was tired and covered in blood, but he no longer had a problem with killing, killing made him feel alive, he looked forward to the next battle. | ||||
For five years Ferrus fought on the battlefield, rising to the rank of Lieutenant, he was then taken to become a member of General Xarxes's plan to defeat the Bethilians. He would no longer fight on the battlefield, he would instead serve as an assassin and a spy for the Bethilian Empire, he would have no name, rather a number, he was given the name Septim, which meant seven, and began training. After three years of rigorous training he learned Hosurian, the old language, and Garovian, he could sneak across a floor of glass without making a noise or breaking a piece, he could lie and show no hint of betreyal in his face, he could kill a friend without hesitation, he was ready. His first mission was to kill General Garon Hosor of the Hosurian Army. Garon was the middle son of Emperor Hosor. Septim made a disguise that would make him look like a Hosurian messenger. He then assembled a double ply sheet of parchment and put a thin blade in between. He put the parchment into the envelope and rode off to Fort Yelv. Septim approached the gate on horseback and arrived, he said in perfect Hosurian, "I am Josur, messenger for his majesty Emperor Tysin Hosor the third, I have a message for General Hosor." "A message? Well, he said he was expecting one from his father, go on in sir", said the guard. Septim rode in and left his horse outside, he walked into the fort's interior, showing no sign of losing his nerves. He approached a guard. "Where is your General's quarters? Emperor Hosor asked me to deliver this letter personally", said Septim. "He is upstairs", said the guard, "His door is in front of the left staircase." "Thank you", said Septim as he began walking up the stairs, he reached the General's door where a guard stood ready. "What is it?" he asked. "I am here to deliver this message to General Hosor", said Septim. "I will give it to him", said the guard. "The Emperor asked me to deliver it personally, I will report you to him if you do not allow me to pass", said Septim. "Fine", said the guard as he stepped aside. Septim walked into the room where the General sat at his desk. "I have a message for you milord", said Septim. The General turned around. "Read it to me", he said. Septim opened the envelope and began reading before moving forward without a sound, he brought the paper with the knife concealed inside to the General's throat, it sliced through the paper and into the General's neck, the General began to fall back, but Septim grabbed him and pulled him up, he dragged his corpse to his bed and layed him down. He pulled a blanket over him and ripped off a piece and tied it around the General's neck to stop the blood from leaking onto the blankets. Septim then picked up the knife from the bloody paper and pocketed it. He walked out of the room, nodded to the guard on the way out, and reached his horse. He mounted it and rode off, two minutes later the guard would peek his head into the General's room to find that he is sleeping, and would return to his post. It would not be until morning when the servant would bring the General his morning food that his death would be discovered, and by then Septim was long gone. | ||||
Over six months Septim was hired to kill twelve individuals, including the Emperor's other sons. Septim's final mission being to kill the Emperor himself. Septim walked through the streets of Hoson, his red cloak around him, underneath was a dagger, a crossbow, and a poison that looked like water. He approached a large cathedral, where he knocked out a priest in the undercroft and took his black priest's robe. Septim took off his red cloak, put the black one on, and walked off to the palace. He saw the Emperor on his throne, but instead went into the laundry, where he found the clothes of a cook. He put them on and entered the kitchen. He prepared a plate for the Emperor's lunch and poisoned half of each portion, he then brought the food to the Emperor. "Eat the food cook", said the Emperor, knowing that it could be poisoned. Septim took a piece from the unpoisoned side and ate it. The Emperor then smiled and had his food brought to him. Septim walked away and out of the palace, upon reaching the palace gates he saw a guard running towards him. "Stop that cook!" he yelled. Septim decided against running, knowing that it would prove that he killed the Emperor, he instead turned innocently and looked the guard in the face. "What is it sir?" he asked. "You poisoned the Emperor!" yelled the guard as another guard grabbed Septim. "I did no such thing!" yelled Septim in an innocent voice. "I am placing you under arrest for the assassination of Emperor Hosor!" yelled the guard. "I didn't do anything!" yelled Septim. Septim was knocked out with the hilt of a guard's blade and taken to the dungeons, where the Captain of the Guard arrived. "Well well well", he said, "The Emperor's assassin! I say, you don't look like one, but we did find a dagger on your person." "That was for personal defense!" yelled Septim. "Sure it was...you also had three razors", said the guard, "We are going to have a lot of fun with you..." Septim spent two years in the Hosorian Prison, tortured every day. They never killed him, wanting to make him into an example, and after two years of torture, he found a way out. Thirty year old Septim layed on the stone floor of his cell, uncountable scars were on his back, arms, legs, and three were on his face. He had been in prison for two years, in that time he had been whipped, he had his fingernails ripped off with pliers, and he had been starved, but he never gave himself away, never showed that he was anything more than a cook. He had lost all love for his country, the war had ended with them being the victor and they had not freed him, it was his fault for being caught, but he still hated them and he hated the guards. The day earlier was Ghon, a holiday for the Hosorian people, and it was celebrated with drinks and merrymaking. Septim noticed that the guard was still drunk, and walked to the bars of his cell when the guard was walking by, in one quick grab he grabbed the keys to his cell from the guard's belt without a sound. The guard reached the end of the hall and walked back, he turned his head to the right and saw that the prisoner that was there seconds earlier was gone. He was then grabbed, his neck was broken, and he was pulled into the prison cell. Septim grabbed his clothes and his blade and buckled it. He then walked out of the prison, remembering his old training, and left the city immediately. He stole a horse and made his way back the Unnar, hunting food along the way, upon making it back he entered his old home to find Versen Grubbel sitting in the armchair. He looked up. "Ereptor?" he asked, "Ahhh, you have finally returned, your house has been given to me by the office of land management, they thought you were dead..." Septim approached Versen and drew his blade, Versen's eyes grew. "What are you doing!?" he asked. "Give me back my house...", said Septim. "Y-your going to kill me!?" he exclaimed. "If you do not return my home, yes", said Septim. Versen immediately ran up to his bedroom and signed the house over to him, Versen packed his things and immediately left Unnar, never to return. Septim sat down in his old armchair and began his plan, he would destroy the Bethilian Empire, out of revenge, but first he needed rest... | ||||
Lord Antonis Xarxes slept rather soundly, dreaming of a great many things, but was suddenly awaken by a familiar face. "Hello one, or should I say Unis", said Septim. "Do not call me by my number", said Xarxes, he had been Septim's commanding officer during the war, and was now in retirement. "I have come for more than one reason", said Septim, "I want your money..." Xarxes had been paid a nearly half the Bethilian treasury to keep quiet about the things he had seen, Xarxes smiled. "Why?" he asked. "Because...I have your life in my hands, and if you don't your son is dead, I already have him in my custody...", said Septim. Xarxes's face went white, "You wouldn't!" "You trained me to kill without hesitation, you know I would..." says Septim. Xarxes got up, with Septim aiming a crossbow at him. "Follow me...", said Xarxes, he walked over to a picture on the wall and took it off to reveal a hole with a small key, he gave it to Septim. "The vault is in Gretchen...give the key to them, they'll give you the money", said Xarxes, "The password is...Unis..." "If this is wrong, your son will die", said Septim. "It is correct", said Xarxes. "Good", said Septim, he fired the crossbow bolt at Xarxe*beep*ting him in the neck. A guard walked into the room moments later to find his master dead and the window open. A week later, a large fortune is withdrawn by a cloaked figure in Gretchen. Not even the banker knew who it was... Septim bought an old fort with some of his money and proceeded to start a Guild of Mercenaries that would consist of old war veterans. He named it FC, or the Ferrus Company. Within ten years, Ferrus Company had over fifteen thousand members spread throughout the Empire. Each city had a Fort outside that housed at least five hundred men. Septim had picked the name Validus Erus, which meant "Mighty Lord" in the old language. He felt that his plan should finally be carried out. All over the Empire, cities were taken by FC members. The cities had little time to react, and within a month, the Empire was dead, replaced by the Erusian Empire under Emperor Erus. Emperor Bethilor died by Erus's hand, the entire continent was under Erus's control. | ||||
For twenty years the Erusian Empire ruled the continent of Jugis, destroying all forms of resistance and any remnants of the old Bethilian Empire. A sixty year old Validus Erus stood at the top of his tower, a great view was before him. Erus did not smile, he never smiled. His stroked his goatee before turning around to see a man of twenty years standing before him, crossbow in hand. "Who would you be?" asked Erus, reaching for his blade. "I am but a number and your slayer" said the man, "But you may call be Septim..." "Ahhhh, so the numbers are still around?" asked Erus, drawing his sword. "I was trained by Unis", said Septim, "He trained me to kill without hesitation, to move without making a sound, t-", he was cut off. "Stop boasting and fire your weapon", yelled Erus. Septim did so, and with quick reflexes, Erus blocked the bolt with his blade. Erus then walked forward. "Draw your blade, number, and fight me!" yelled Erus. Septim drew his blade and jumped forward, Erus blocked the blade and attacked, with the attack being blocked by Septim. The duel lasted ten minutes, with neither gaining the advantage, Erus was old, however, and he finally left a gap. Septim chopped his leg off and stabbed his blade into Erus's chest. Erus looked up at the assassin. "Wait...answer...a dying man's...question", said Erus. "What?", asked Septim. "Who...who is Unis?", asked Erus. "His true name is Charley", said Septim, "He said my father held this number before me, that he was a good man..." Erus looked up at the assassin, at long last, he felt an emotion besides rage or greed, he felt love for the first time in forty-three years. "You...you are my...my son?" he whispered, " I must...I must know something", said Erus in his dying breath, "Do you...do you enjoy killing?" "I don't enjoy killing, not even yours", said Septim. "Good...", said Erus, his heart stopped and he breathed his last breath. His soul left his body. Epilogue - The Erusian Empire collapsed upon Erus's death, with five new Empires taking it's place. Erus's legend never died however, it was a story long told throughout the Empire. Septim returned to Unis, and was given his last assignment, to get a wife, and to live a normal life. He followed those orders well... | ||||
Good job...I didnt die ☺ | ||||
anybody else read it? | ||||
I did, nd i thought it was very good! lol. | ||||
that was great septim!!!! | ||||
Thanks! :-D | ||||
septim mind if i put u in my next story?i figured out a new position for someone. | ||||
Go ahead. :-) | ||||
It's really good Septim. | ||||
I remember writing this! :-D | ||||
I got a wife and lived well alright ^_^ | ||||
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