Grail's Story
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Grail's Story
I've just started to write this. Tell me if it's good. here it goes.
Prolodge
I walked through the battle stricken town that used to be my own. It used to be happy, an optimistic town in an optimistic land. But the government fell. Alas, the government of Domia fell. But the only reason was this small town. This small town was what they needed to destroy. They needed to destroy my birthplace. They needed to take the villagers for slaves. But more importantly they had to slaughter everyone I had ever loved. To fuel me. To give me anger that I had never possessed before. The power to destroy everything in my path. They power I needed.
I unstrapped the small leather armor that I wore. The wind felt odd on my armorless body. I hadn’t worn just a shirt in the open for at least a year. It felt good, like I was a boy again. Well, I could never be a boy again with what I’ve went through. I unstrapped my sword from my belt and threw my sword, scabbard and all on the grass. I don’t know why they even gave it to me. I was powerful already. Why would I need a sword? My necklace glowed light blue, innocent light blue. Calmness. Hope. Sincerity. I smiled. I was home at last.
I sprinted down the hill. The grass felt odd compared to underground stone and iron. I ran down the hill into the town. It was called Kalosirthes. In its day it was a bustling town. Merchants on every street corner, and shops on every street. On main street all you could hear was the shouting of merchants. The schools were packed when I was young. What did they call me then? Ah yes, Kent. No one calls me Kent anymore. Now they only call me my “correct” name: Grail. Grail…it sounded too fearless. I had weaknesses. But my name said I didn’t. My name lied. Another thing about me that was a lie, great.
I ran to my old house. It was just how I remembered as a boy. The old rocking chair in the family room that my father would sit in. The amazing stone table that was bought with all of my mother’s savings. Now I could appreciate its beauty. I ran upstairs into my parents room. Then my own room. There was still the old bed. And hanging on my wall was my first sword. I took it down from above my bead. It was old, but still beautiful. The copper hilt, still polished. The blade of steel perfect. This was my weapon. Not the sword that they gave me. It was this. I took the sheath out from under my bed. I sheathed the sword and put it into the holster in my belt. That was better. I walked down the hallway and I burst into tears. My sister’s room. My hopeful, optimistic, beautiful, horrible sister’s room. I did so much to protect her. And now she was gone. I entered her room to find it had become a rantolf’s home. Rantolfs are dragons the size of wolves. Most are relatively harmless, but some posses more power than their much larger cousins. I unsheathed my sword. This was my sister’s room, not his.
“Die! Die! Die!” I half screamed half sobbed. I slashed at the beast and cut its head off. I took it and carried it outside. It didn’t deserve to live in my sister’s room. It didn’t even deserve to die there. It was just mocking my pain. This pain…this pain was worse than the blade that went straight through my heart. Worse than all of battle wounds combined. It was personal.
I must tell you my story. Nay, it isn’t my story. It isn’t Kent Vir’s story. This is Grail’s story.
I unstrapped the small leather armor that I wore. The wind felt odd on my armorless body. I hadn’t worn just a shirt in the open for at least a year. It felt good, like I was a boy again. Well, I could never be a boy again with what I’ve went through. I unstrapped my sword from my belt and threw my sword, scabbard and all on the grass. I don’t know why they even gave it to me. I was powerful already. Why would I need a sword? My necklace glowed light blue, innocent light blue. Calmness. Hope. Sincerity. I smiled. I was home at last.
I sprinted down the hill. The grass felt odd compared to underground stone and iron. I ran down the hill into the town. It was called Kalosirthes. In its day it was a bustling town. Merchants on every street corner, and shops on every street. On main street all you could hear was the shouting of merchants. The schools were packed when I was young. What did they call me then? Ah yes, Kent. No one calls me Kent anymore. Now they only call me my “correct” name: Grail. Grail…it sounded too fearless. I had weaknesses. But my name said I didn’t. My name lied. Another thing about me that was a lie, great.
I ran to my old house. It was just how I remembered as a boy. The old rocking chair in the family room that my father would sit in. The amazing stone table that was bought with all of my mother’s savings. Now I could appreciate its beauty. I ran upstairs into my parents room. Then my own room. There was still the old bed. And hanging on my wall was my first sword. I took it down from above my bead. It was old, but still beautiful. The copper hilt, still polished. The blade of steel perfect. This was my weapon. Not the sword that they gave me. It was this. I took the sheath out from under my bed. I sheathed the sword and put it into the holster in my belt. That was better. I walked down the hallway and I burst into tears. My sister’s room. My hopeful, optimistic, beautiful, horrible sister’s room. I did so much to protect her. And now she was gone. I entered her room to find it had become a rantolf’s home. Rantolfs are dragons the size of wolves. Most are relatively harmless, but some posses more power than their much larger cousins. I unsheathed my sword. This was my sister’s room, not his.
“Die! Die! Die!” I half screamed half sobbed. I slashed at the beast and cut its head off. I took it and carried it outside. It didn’t deserve to live in my sister’s room. It didn’t even deserve to die there. It was just mocking my pain. This pain…this pain was worse than the blade that went straight through my heart. Worse than all of battle wounds combined. It was personal.
I must tell you my story. Nay, it isn’t my story. It isn’t Kent Vir’s story. This is Grail’s story.
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Re: Grail's Story
You spelled "prologue" wrong but otherwise I kinda like it.
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