Basic info on what this story will be like: This story will follow 7 people, as they strive to become mighty warriors, and one day battle the Sarkleen, a race of monsters to the North. For a good while, it will deal with the trial they have to pass to become the fabled ultimate warriors: the Klarmick.
Prologue, part 1: Sam and Ritus
Sam and Ritus ran down the cobblestone street, loafs of bread held tightly to their chest. Rushing by on each side of them were the wood and straw buildings of the town of Farox. The two boys quickly dove into a dim alleyway, narrowly escaping a fire bolt as it exploded behind them. As they came into another street, they hurried and jumped into a cellar hidden behind a couple of fruit carts. They could hear the angry yelling of the old shopkeeper who's bread they had stolen. "Get your asses back here so I can roast them!" the man yelled. Sam and Ritus held their breath as they listened to the old shopkeep's angry grumbling on the street above. after a minute, they heard him leave, and after a couple more, they let out a sigh of relief.
"You never mentioned he was a Klarmick!" Ritus said angrily at his friend Sam.
"Nah," Sam replied. "He was no Klarmick, just a mage soldier. Retired or not, if he was a Klarmick, we wouldn't be alive right now." Ritus grunted in an annoyed manner as Sam took a match box out of his pocket and lit a gas lantern, illuminating the two boy's hideout. It wasn't the coziest of dwellings, but that much was to expected of an abandoned cellar. All it really had were some empty crates, two mats, a few stolen blankets, and a couple of sticks the two young boys used to spar with.
Sam was a shaggy looking brown haired boy, with deep blue eyes. For almost all of his 12 years of life, he had a thirst for adventure that never seemed to be satisfied. Where ever Sam went, trouble was soon to start. Ritus, on the other hand, was a much more reclusive boy, who almost always followed Sam's lead. He was a year younger than Sam, had short black hair, and brown eyes. The two boys had met 7 years ago at an orphanage. They bonded quickly, having both witnessed a terrible event that caused their parents death. This event was the total destruction of their home village by the horrifying monsters that lived In the northern region of the Continent. At that time, Ritus was captivated at how easily Sam got over such an event. Two weeks later, they ran away from the orphanage, and since then have been running from town to town, taking nothing but their ragged sack-cloth clothing with them. Each time Sam successfully managed to get the locals to hate the two. One time a pastry shop owner even poisoned his sweets, which left Sam bedridden for a month. Ritus constantly feared that one day they would really be killed. But on this night, his mind was focused on something else, something he had been dreading, and Sam had been eagerly anticipating.
"Hey Sam?" Ritus said, as he began to eat his bread.
"Yeah?" Sam replied. "Do you really think we'll be alright? I mean, I've heard of people get killed in this, not to mention what we'll have to do if we pass."
"Feh, you worry too much Ricky, those people are all fat spoiled weaklings who don't know a thing about actual combat. We, on the other hand, have lived our lives on the streets. We can handle a little action. Also, don't even bother with all that stuff we'll be doing afterwards. That's several month's away." Ritus smiled somewhat at this. Sam always had a reassuring tone in his voice.
"Your right Sam, we'll definitely pass the trial to become mage soldiers." Sam looked over at him as if Ritus had just said something stupid.
"Are you kidding me, Ritus? fuck mage soldier, I'm going to be a Klarmick!" Ritus coughed up some of his bread. The soggy projectiles flew across the cellar, landing on Sam's dirt covered face.
As Sam cleaned the crumbs off, Ritus began saying in an awestruck manner "KLARMICK!!! You actually want to be a Klarmick! Sam, this test only happens once every five years, and can't be entered twice. Sure only people in our general age group will be participating, but there's gonna be over 30,000 of them! and out of that, only 20 become Klarmicks! We may be tough, but a lot of these people have people training them."
Sam set his chin on his fist, looked with a piercing stare up at Ritus and said "So?" Ritus just stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Finally, he sat back down, and continued eating his bread.
"Maybe you'll become a Klarmick, Sam, but I sure won't." Sam finished eating his share of bread, and laid on his mat.
"Whatever," he said with a comical smirk. "I hear Klarmick's can pick two mage soldiers as servants. I'm definitely looking forward to having you as my pack mule."
Prologue, Part Two: Terrace
7 years ago...
A joy filled seven-year-old boy ran up to his father as he walks past his houses gate. "Daddy!" The green-eyed little boy said to his father, pausing a moment to catch his breath. "I mastered the move you taught me! I even took down this one big guy who was being mean to mommy!" The father smiled and patted his son on the head.
"That's great Terrace, keep it up, and you'll be a Klarmick just like me someday. Now, Why don't you go play out in the field, me and mommy have some catching up to do." The boy nodded eagerly and started sprinting toward his favorite climbing tree, his white hair fluttering a bit as he ran. Smiling, the father walked up to his house, where his wife, Gezelda, was leaning on the doorframe, smiling back at him.
"So I heard our son protected you from somebody." Gezelda chuckled as she moved some stray strand of black hair from her eyes.
"Just some drunk, I could have taken him myself. Still, I was surprised how easily Terrace beat him. Then again, he is the son of "The Legendary Heroz." Heroz smiled and embraced his wife tightly, truly glad to see her again.
"Ah, but being so important can get so tiring sometimes," Heroz said. "After all, I can get called out to duty at the most inopportune moments." Gezelda smiled mischievously as she swept her fingers through her husbands thick hair.
"Well," she said. "We could always pick up where we left off." Heroz smiled, picked her up, and carried his wife up the stairs to the bedroom.
A few days later, Heroz was called out to duty again, the vile Sarkleen never seemed to cease their attacks. As always, he showed his son a new move really quick, than left out for the battlefront. So life returned to how it was 95 percent of the time for Heroz's family. The life of a Klarmick's family is often a lonely existence, and it isn't uncommon for their to be cases of the Klarmick's spouse cheating or getting a divorce. This idea, however, wouldn't even cross Gezelda's mind. She loved her husband far to much to be swept into the arms of another man. His son also couldn't be prouder of his father. Heroz wasn't just a Klarmick, but the second strongest there was. Not a day would go by when Terrace didn't brag about being the son of such a legend. Though his friends no doubt got sick of it. Some boys even tried to jump him a couple weeks later, but to no avail...
"Ha! there's no way you brats could stand against the son of the mighty Heroz!" Terrace proclaimed as he stood proudly over three injured boys, one bleeding quite a bit from his nose. Terrace was also hurt, but not so much he would let it show. As the boys ran away, Terrace proudly turned and picked up the groceries he had bought for his mom. He lifted them as high as he could, and sprinted down the brick roads. He stop for a moment to say hello to the civil officer, who was scolding a carriage driver who was going too fast through the market district. As he rushed into his house he yelled "Mommy! I'm home!" He then paused for a moment, waiting for a response. "Mommy?" Terrace heard something from the kitchen. He went in to find his mother sitting in a chair, hands covering her face, sobbing. "Mommy? what's wrong?" as he walked in, he noticed a newspaper on the ground. As he read, he dropped the groceries.
"Tragedy struck not only the town of Yeshwire today, but the entire human kingdom. A large group of Sarkleen invaded the settlement, killing all but a few people. Most of the Sarkleen were too weak to stand up to the mage soldiers, but sadly, there was nobody who could have stopped the one leading them. At the command of these monsters, was none other than one of the most beloved men in the world... I'm barely able to believe it myself, let alone write this in the paper. Heroz, the legendary Klarmic, led the assault of Yeshwire. Eye witness accounts report him slaughtering guards, citizens, and even... children. This marks the first time in history that a human has sided with the Sarkleen. A tragedy to rival the loss of the Isles of Darkness over three hundred years ago... "
Present day...
The thief was slammed into the wall with such force that it knocked him unconscious. "Good work, Terrace, you've proven to be invaluable to our town," said the civil officer. "It will be a shame to try and run this place without you." Terrace started to walk away.
"You managed to get by without me before, I'm sure it will be no trouble." He walked across town to his house, where he was greeted by a bright eyed young girl.
"Big Brother! your back! I thought you were going to that trial thing?" Terrace patted her on the head.
"Sorry Claurice, but you still have me for a few more hours."
Claurice smiled and replied " That's okay, I want to spend as much time with big brother, before he become a big hero!" Terrace faked a smile for his sister.
"Well, you'll have to wait a minute, I have to talk with mother." At this, Claurice nodded and ran of to her favorite climbing tree.
Terrace went into the back yard where his mother was. "Hello, mother. I'll be leaving soon, to become a Klarmic. I just thought you would want to know. Whenever I try to think of a perfect father, I still see dad. At least, the way he pretended to be. It probably breaks your heart to hear me say this, but after I do become a Klarmic, I'm going to find him... and kill him. It's what the father he pretended to be would have wanted. I know it sounds weird to say that, but I'm going to become that image of a perfect man, and even greater. I'll visit you, when I get the time." With what he had to say done, Terrace started walking towards where his sister was playing, and away from his mothers grave.
The rest of the prologue will be posted within the next few days.