Days When Heros Die

This man had found himself to this familiar place. Clad in his familiar cloak of black cotton and brown leather and leather boots. A hood to cover his visage, only allowing for his orbs to peirce through. Floor boards now covered in dust and dirt, half of this establishment missing since years past; since his last visit. A solemn visage upon his pale lips. His cold eyes lurked towards another, standing not but ten feet from him. This was our hero, who had arrived to this familiar tavern of sorts, Tek Rai. A wyvrn brethren standing ten feet from Tek Rai, with only a smirk upon his teirs of hatred. Tek, to raise cold steel, with dust to rise and with a swift motion, ended with an agaped silent gasp from his throat, and to have fallen to his knees, vision fading to black death.1

She watches the sun set on this plateu. The beautiful sight it was, looking down to the ravine far below her. Or heroin lurked to the edge, clad all in white, an angel. She listened for her name, Gwendalin, but heard nothing. A gentle tear to part from those endless orbs down her soft flesh of her cheeks. She dove, like the beautiful angel she was, plummetting towards the ravine below. She shone with the burning flames of all hatred she had banished, and allowed a light to shine forth from her entity.2

Two men and a woman stood here. The woman not near a woman yet, but a girl, Lysabeth. Dear Lysabeth, watched over by one of the men who stood, her guardian, her father, Brotin Lieshang. They were both adorning the same garb, ragged burlap tunics. Once from a well established family, grown poor from a long waged war with an opposing family. The other standing was from the Lieshang family as well. Outcast by his own father, and hated him so much. Leon Lieshang, the destroyer of the Lieshang family, he swore to be. And came forthwith from his lips were only curses and hatreds towards his father and his fathers loved family. A burst of energy was thus sent forth, Leon's cold black orbs watching on, as his father, Brotin, would to be consumed by this energy. And with a last breath, Brotin had sent his beloved Lysabeth off, to hide forever.3

And so Lysabeth had hid, everything had been taken from her. Her established name, which she never actually adorned, her protector, her life. She was no longer Lysabeth, she couldn't be. The heros in the world were all destroyed, but her. But not soon enough could she grow up. And too much a burden for a twelve year old to become the savior of the world, to save it from families such as the last Lieshang, the Tieshus, and the Echeons. Evil, evil menaces such as those families had taken control of the world, even after swearing to protect it. An infection from within, a hatred, pure evil had corroded these powerful families, to take them hold, and use them. And power hungry they were, they all wanted more, and so they took what they saw, and they saw everything.4

Those were the days when magicks ruled over all, but these families, they ruled magicks, and they used them to their advantage. It was in these days where the good in the world were banished and destroyed. Those days were the days in which all the heros died. And evil had reigned supreme.5