First lament
Luminastra – Memories of The Huntress
They called us "heroes". They remembered us with pride and filled us with the warmth of their hearts.
To think we were… "The city closest to the heavens."
Seen as the light of humanity and purity between corruption.
Our streets resonated with laughter and song. Our towers gleamed under the sun and moon like beacons of hope.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't enough. I'm sorry I couldn't be their hope.
I know now their smiles have vanished, like smoke slipping through my fingers.
I was their guardian, their light in the darkened alley, their trust and their love.
But when those damned angels descended from the heavens, they scorched half the kingdom… I still remember how the children looked to the skies before they show up. They thought the angels would bring gifts, that they would celebrate our victories.
Why? Why did those same children have to wither away like dried leaves? Why did they have to be reduced to ashes? Did we fail you?
Is this loneliness my punishment? To walk a world I no longer recognize, a world consumed by fear and hatred. How can I be a hero when my people are nothing but ashes? How can I face a world where hope is a cruel joke?
Every night, I hear their screams. The stench of burning flesh floods my senses, and I see their faces. They begged me for protection, and I couldn't even soothe their cries.
I swear to you, I tried to fight. I swear I tried to be like a mother to my people. I swear I wanted to give my life… and yet, here I am…
I know I am… lost. I wish someone would hold me, tell me that everything will be all right. I wish, for just one moment, I could be a child again; to wake up and tell my parents I had a bad dream.
But I know… I can't. And perhaps I don't deserve to. In the end… as far as I know, I am all that remains of Luminastra. Ha! …The city closest to the heavens…
I wanted to write this down. There's no one left to tell, no one to cry with, and I know I cannot cry either.
I suppose this is the final entry in this old journal. To think that not long ago, I wrote of my victories, that not long ago, I believed my arrows punished those unworthy of light. Now, even writing and hunting have become a struggle with only one arm...
I am no hero. I am no light. I am simply the memory of the burns the sun leaves upon our skin.
Tomorrow, I will head to the Vortex of Eternia, and it's likely I won't return.
And yet, my final arrow bears your name, Michael. An arrow not driven by the dreams of my people but by the sorrow in my heart.
I know I have no hope, no redemption. But I hope I can be the one to carry humanity beyond the heavens.
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Second Lament
Corinthar – The Arena of the Forgotten
Once night falls, darkness consumes the alleys of old Corinthar. In the limited vision of shadows, only one light remains in the outskirts.
Beneath the same moonlight stands a grand mansion. Its wooden structure and golden details stand in stark contrast to the squalor of its surroundings. And yet, the place seems utterly silent.
"Cassius Rake."
That is the only answer you would get if you asked in the streets about the mansion. The man who controls Corinthar's underworld, your salvation or your executioner.
And today, it was another day to make money.
Cassius sat in his grand chair, waiting for his assistants to call him. His blond hair and piercing blue eyes gleamed in the dimly lit room.
—One hundred more gold coins... Hmm... Ticket sales have droppe. — he mused.
On the same place, he toyed with the coins in his hand, watching the glimmering gold slip through his fingers before they clinked back onto the desk.
—In that case, we'll have to innovate a little more. — Rising from his chair, his leather coat hung down to his knees, while a feathered adornment draped over his shoulders like a mantle.
—Sir! — One of his assistants called from across the room. —It's ready. —
At these words, Cassius placed the remaining coins on the desk. —Did you prepare everything as I command? —
—Y-yes, sir! — The assistant nodded nervously as Cassius approached.
—Good, — Cassius muttered, glancing briefly at the young man's trembling face. —No need to be so nervous, dear. We're about to make some business. — His sly smile sent shivers down the assistant's spine as Cassius turned toward the grand wooden doors.
—Let's begin. —
With a powerful shove, Cassius pushed open the heavy doors, revealing the heart of his empire.
An underground dungeon. Dry blood painted the walls, and chains dangled above an arena. The dirt was thick with mud and flesh, the remains of those who had been forgotten in this place decorate the place as a twisted art piece.
A roaring crowd greeted their host, cheering as Cassius stepped into his viewing box.
—My dear guests! Companions of this glorious sport! Welcome once again! — He extended his hands theatrically, his posture proud and commanding.
The crowd clash into applause, their fervor was renewed by their host.
—Tonight, I bring you a new and magnificus show, — he announced.
The audience fell silent, anticipation was thick in the air.
—For years, we have delighted in the violence of our fighters, in the wrath of their weapons, and the blood they've spilled in this arena. But tonight, you will witness a true revolution! —
At his signal, an assistant pulled a lever.
From the shadows of the arena emerged a beast, its hulking form riddled with scars, a massive axe resting in its monstrous hands. Its grotesque, inhuman body towered over the arena, with arms like tree trunks and legs thicker than a grown man. Its head was not that of a human but a bull's.
An infernal fusion of man and beast.
—A monster from the depths of the abyss! A man who is not a man, a beast who is not a beast! — Cassius bellowed, his voice brimming with excitement as the audience stared in stunned silence.
—Will our fighters stand a chance against this abomination?! —
Perhaps the men who entered the arena that night dreamed of promised riches, perhaps they had no other choice, or maybe they were just fools.
The first fighter, an older barbarian, bore a rugged and scarred chest that belies his age.
He leapt toward the creature with fervor, his mace glinting in the dim light, sweat dripping from his brow. With a battle cry, he charged, aiming to kill.
But perhaps his confidence was his downfall.
The beast's axe cleaved through his abdomen with horrifying precision. Like a butcher's work, the barbarian's organs spilled onto the blood-soaked arena floor. The clean slash split him down to his pelvis, staining the weapon with his blood.
—HUUUUUUUUAAAAARRRGH! — The beast roared, its lifeless black eyes locking onto the remaining fighters as drool dripped from its maw. The kill intoxicated it with pleasure.
—This… this isn't what we agreed on! — cried the youngest of the fighters, collapsing to his knees. Covering his ears, he rocked back and forth, mumbling incoherently. A warm liquid spread down his thighs.
The beast, catching the scent of his fear, approached. Gripping the man by his arm, it forced him to meet its cold, expressionless gaze.
In despair, the young man struck feebly at the beast's face.
—Hahaha! — The crowd erupted in laughter at his futile attempts.
With each blow, the beast's grip tightened until, with a sickening crunch.
—Hrk…! –The young man's arm had been completely severed, the sound of his bone breaking echoed as he fell to the ground spreading his blood on the sand.
—Ah…?! Uh-?! –The young man collapsed looking at what was left of his right arm which by this point ended in a ball of flesh and bone.
By now, the last fighter stood frozen in terror, watching the gruesome display. But perhaps it was bravery or the primal instinct to survive that spurred him to act.
His trembling sword swung wildly, aiming for the beast's thick skin.
—...! — The crowd's laughter halted as the beast's blood joined the humans on the dirt.
— Huh? — The creature grunted, momentarily stunned by the cut on its thigh.
—I WON'T DIE HERE! — The man screamed, slashing mercilessly at the beast's leg.
But when he raised his sword for a final strike, the blade snapped against the beast's iron-hard muscles.
The audience erupted into drunken laughter, ecstatic from the drink and other services offered by the arena workers, laughed shamelessly at the man's misfortune.
—Huajrg… huarjg… huarjg— The light brays also flooded the arena. It seemed even that beast found the man's situation pathetic enough to emit a sound similar to laughter.
After this, the Minotaur raised its great axe again. There was a quick and dry sound as metal severed the head of a man who just seconds ago was looking at mud in trembling fear.
—HUUUUUUUUAAAAARRRGH! — it bellowed in triumph, holding the grotesque trophy aloft for all to see. The crowd roaring in approval.
Cassius watched from above, a satisfied smirk on his lips.
—As expected, bringing demi-humans was the next evolution of this business, — he murmured.
With the confrontation over, Cassius kept the audience entertained until everyone finally left the arena.
As he walked into the room again, he looked at his assistant with a smirk on his face.
—It was a good night, However, we are only halfway through the job— He said calmly.
Descending the steep steps that separated the main room from the entrance to the arena, he walked with an elegant stride while putting on leather gloves.
Once in front of the large metal gates through which that beast had entered less than an hour ago, it was now Cassius who entered the arena.
—tsk— He grumbled as the stench of blood filled his nose.
He walked slowly towards the headless body and looked at it closely. —At least half of its body is intact, — he said, making a gesture with his right hand.
Seconds later, three new assistants entered the arena, dressed in robes like those worn by clerics. They carried various medical tools tied to their belts, including a large saw, pliers, scissors, and finally a large knife more suited for a butcher than a doctor.
Among them stood out a girl covered in a black robe with wooden ornaments hanging from her neck.
— Lungs, heart, section off fingers and toes. The rest is disposable; our buyers will not be interested in bruised meat, — he instructed while closely examining the body.
As Cassius examined the barbarian's body with his hands, he lamented. The beast's slash had destroyed much of his body, making the parts unfit for sale. Plus, being older, even if they were, the price is significantly lower.
—A real shame, until now he hadn't generated bad profits in his fights—
As he got up and moved his hand to let the blood drip from his glove, he heard a broken sound.
—cough…cough...Si-Sir…— Cassius looked towards the source of the sound and noticed the youngest of the men making slight movements with his body while seemingly holding what was left of his right arm.
Smiling, the cruel man approached the young man. —Hmm, we have a little surprise, — he said, using his leg to turn over the young man who, by this point, had pale skin from the lack of blood in his body. Those movements he made seemed more like they were caused by the effort of his still-beating heart trying to pump blood.
—I want you to cut from shoulder height; after that, separate his skin from the muscle. I have a buyer who's been waiting for an order of young skin for one of his dolls. —
Using the gloves with which he had been digging inside the barbarian just minutes ago, he palpated the young man's body.
—The organs should be in good condition; separate them and place them alongside those of the first man in one of the transport boxes. Both will be delivered to our contact in town. —
Rising gently, he removed his gloves and tossed them into the arena before walking towards the metal gates. — Oh right, he is young so don't forget to cut off his member; Netherdoom's warlocks use it in their virility rites. Have the healer make sure to stimulate it before it's completely cut off. —
After saying these words, he finally left the arena, and his blonde hair was swallowed by darkness along with the rest of his body.
As dawn approaches, nocturnal nightmares cease their whispers and streets slowly fill with life once again.
And as echoes of those who gave their lives last night are drowned out so too is name of their executioner: Cassius Rake.
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Third Lament
Undefined – Ur last defense
On that night, ruled by silence, fear flooded the hearts of those who once wielded it.
Death was painted across the starry sky, and in front of two hundred soldiers stood only one man.
His silver hair and battered armor spoke of the cold embrace of hundreds of battles.
And yet, even on his scarred face, uncertainty was etched. With weary legs, he stood before the two hundred and declared:
— I have fought, we have fought—for more than 25 years. We have slaughtered beasts, burned valleys. We have not always been guided by honor. Each one of us has been drenched in the blood of the innocent... and I know you are all aware of that. Despite it all, it has always been for our community, for our people, for our families. —
The two hundred men stood silent, lost in thought, consumed by the darkness of the night. Even if they raised their eyes, they would see nothing but torches illuminating the void, feel nothing but fear gripping their souls.
– What kind of men would we be now if we turned our backs on what we have defended? What kind of fathers, what kind of sons, what kind of husbands and friends… –
—No! We cannot win! – one of the men cried out.
Protests broke out soon after. Though they had never doubted their orders, for the first time, they felt powerless.
The veteran warrior raised his voice once more.
—Do you think I don't know what we're facing?! Do you think I don't understand what I'm asking of you?!–
Once again, the silence of the night claimed the small army.
—I know… that we will die. We cannot win. We face the calamity that destroyed Netherdoom down to its very foundations. –
The mere mention of that cursed empire sent shivers down the men's spines. A calamity capable of obliterating Netherdoom was beyond comprehension.
–We face what awaits us after death, the very hells themselves.
I must ask you for more than you can give, but you will not do it for me. You will do it for what we have defended with our lives all these years. You will do it for all those who died protecting it. –
The veteran took a deep breath as he unsheathed his sword. It was a slender weapon that, like him, bore the weight of years of service. Its long blade was worn but sharp enough to stand the test of time, its golden hilt firm in his grasp.
—We will fall as warriors. As those who slaughtered and destroyed in the name of their lands. As those who were welcomed with gifts and drink by their people.
We will fall as the heroes of our children, so they may flee, so they may be better than us, and so they may not carry the burden of our sins... –
The soldiers did not lift their heads, for the fear of battle still weighed heavy upon them.
Even so, they took up their weapons, readied their horses, and bade farewell to their families.
For though there would be no honor or glory after this fight, though they had lost parts of their humanity on fields of blood, and though they knew there would be no more gifts waiting for them…
They knew what had to be done.
Thus, they convinced the last man, woman, and child to flee on horseback.
After their farewells, they returned to the soldier with the silver hair.
—I know I've asked for your lives, — the man said, struggling to stay steady despite his trembling legs. — I'm sorry. —
Soon, the silence of the night was replaced by the clash of steel, by the cries of the men, by the heavy sounds of each of the two hundred falling.
And finally, silence reclaimed the battlefield once more.