Kreydan zarathos
From the cliff's edge, a lone kreydan sits astride a pale horse, both of them stilled by the vastness below. Kreydan's green cloak hangs heavy and weathered, its folds catching the mountain wind like a quiet breath of history.
Beneath them, the world opens wide, emerald forests spilling down into a valley cradled by stone, where deep lakes sprawls languorously like shards of fallen sky.
Far below, a town clings to the water's edge, its rooftops small and warm against the cool blue of the lakes. Narrow paths wind through the green like faint memories, leading from shore to shore. Mountains rise around it all, tall and ancient, their faces cut with shadow and light, half-lost in drifting cloud.
The air feels high and clean, as if every sound has been carried away. Horse and kreydan both look on in silence, as though standing at the threshold of a journey. one step. Just one step away to attack the city and claim it.
The demigod smiled and spun, charging through the forest like a storm given flesh. His pale horse thunders beneath him, hooves tearing at the earth, armor clattering with each stride. Steel plates catch the pale forest light, greened and scarred, shaped like leaves and thorns, as if the woods themselves had forged him.
The demigod laughs as he rides, wild and fearless, long brown hair streaming behind his helm-less head. In one hand he holds a heavy hammer... Taller than him, its head raised high, ready to fall. His green cloak snaps in the wind, smooth and dark, trailing like a shadow.
Trees blur past in a haze of pale trunks and drifting light. Dust and leaves rise under the horse's charge. It is not a careful ride, nor a quiet one, it is a rush of strength and joy, kreydan alive in motion, riding headlong into whatever waits ahead.
The small dinosaur feasted at the badger like a feral thing, its jaws slick and red, blood stringing from needle teeth as the animal's last kicks faded. It snapped its head up when it saw Kreydan charging, Armor thundering, hammer raised. and hissed. Frost bloomed in its throat. The creature gaped wide and spat five ice spears, hard as glass and screaming through the air. Kreydan dodged between them, one shard shaving his shoulder, another shattering against his chest plate. He did not slow. With a roar, he brought the humongous hammer down. The impact was final...bone collapsed into bone, hide into pulp...until the beast was no more than a crushed, steaming lump beneath the head of the weapon, the leaves around it trembling from the force.
"Still hunting kurvatis... I see", an old man said, standing fifty spears away from him.
"Someone has to put an end to these vile abominations", kreydan said. His voice coming out louder than he expected.
"Do not forget, son of zarathos. You are in tusdal forest", the old man laughed. "We are in eldros land. The new god. You should fear him".
Kreydan recognised the mockery very well.
Everyone disliked new gods. Yet they asked favour from them. Too easy to please these new gods. Thank the kresper and rhayson that these new gods were still weak. Yet kreydan couldn't help but frown on future. Times were indeed changing.
"Already decided to attack the city?", the old man smirked. "I can see it in your eyes".
"Don't smile. I never liked your smile", kreydan frowned. As offensive as it was...but that was the truth. He looked creepy with small wisps of air still streaming down his old wrinkled face. Covered in pock marks and tattered grey robes, he looked more hideous than anyone.
"My smile shoul—"
Kreydan turned around and heeled his horse towards right. "Who goes there?"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Kreydan bellowed that he would drag the hider out and crush him to the bone. At that, a figure stepped forward, either a knight or perhaps a king, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. His armour was grand, forged with intricate design. His massive sword rose high and long, its height only ten water stones shy of Kreydan's own hammer, and it shined slightly, from hilt to body.
"Where am I?", stranger asked.
Kreydan narrowed his eyes. "You're from city of aegis reach? Middle continent... Wrath of aegis, capital of sumaka?"
"Yes ... How do yo—"
"Name? Quickly", kreydan demand. "My patience... is as thin as your life right now".
"I am jorath! Son of king kaisran and king of red frost kingdom".
Brumen sadika
Fleeing... was all that brumen could think about.
"If it wasn't for sonavr", brumen muttered. "I would have run... away".
Sonavr was alone, he had no friends except for him, Brumen knew that very well, cause he was in the same boat afterall.
Sonvar would hate me, if I flee. Without him.
Brumen's mind wheeled. On a day like this when his father has beaten him thrice, he just want to run. Away from all this.
"We have work to do", father said. "go sover and fetch me some ale".
Brumen gritted his teeth. "Very well".
"Huh? Sharp teeths you got there boy?", father snorted. "Want me to break one of those?"
"Why do you hate me so much?", brumen whispered. The words only meant for his ear.
"Your tongue? It should only work for saying yes father, nothing more. Your arms and legs? Should only work in fields... Helping me..."
Brumen sighed. "Very w—"
"What was that boy?", father asked. "You getting irritated by me?"
"Of course... Not, father".
"Get out! Out with you I said!", father roared.
Brumen strode away from the small hovel without a word.
He walked and walked without any destination in his mind. His mud-filled boots carried him where they always did after his father beat him.
A small, crooked tree stood alone at the edge of the brush, its thin trunk bent by wind and years. Around it, tangled shrubs and low bushes grew wild, their leaves dark, torn, and wet with old rain. Thorns hooked at the air like claws, and the ground beneath was packed with mud and dead roots.
Brumen pushed through the brush and knelt beside one of the thicker bushes. His hand slid under the leaves and found cold iron.
He drew the sword free. He hid the sword from his father's eyes, lest the beating worsen.
It wasn't polished. The blade was dull-grey, scarred with nicks and rust freckles, the edge uneven from poor sharpening. The hilt was wrapped in worn leather, darkened by sweat and rain. But it was straight. It was solid. Heavy enough to train with. Real enough to hurt.
Not a knight's blade. Brumen knew that.
But enough to practice. Enough to become something more than what his father made him.
Brumen swung the sword.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then his eyes began to sting. He wanted to feel free. And only the sword gave him that feeling. Only the weight of steel in his hands, the rhythm of movement, the breath and burn of effort. Becoming a sworn knight of the capital...that was freedom. Freedom from the hovel. From the fists. From the fear. From all of it.
He kept swinging. Again and again.
The wind howled past his ears. His tears fell into the grass. Accompanied by fresh air that washed both his face and tears on the grass away. Leaving him alone with his sorrow.
World of sumaka through eyes of ancient gods -
We are the old ones... These new ones claim to be as strong as us. No they are not. We are oldest beings of sumaka, before even sumaka was there, we were here. Ten tombs of power flows in our blood. These new ones they have only seven.
Kings, merchants, elves, dwarfs, trolls, Valkyras, merchants, fishermens, demigods, every species in all five continents, bone cleavers, triskels, aeromancers,giants,morams,shuferians,Karoms and smortans. Everyone worships us. Only us not them, not amberia... but us. We are old gods and we shall remain one.