#redfury

Old man, “Come here you two.”

Child 1, “What is it old man?”

Child 2, “Why is it so dark in here?”

Old man, “Oh! You boys haven’t been in here.  Come, follow me.”

The old man reaches into his coat jacket and grabs a lighter.  They walk a few creaking steps to a dusty filled counter.  The old man flickers his lighter on and leans it towards the counter. The candle on the counter flickers on a bright radiance consuming the room with blood red light.  The boys jump back a step startled at from the light. They gaze across the empty filled room. There were cloth linings all across the room with inanimate objects.  The old man moves towards the back of the room.  He fades into the darkness and then reappears.  They watch as the old man struggles back with a dusty old wooden box.  

Child 2, “What’s in box?”

Old man, “… Stuff of legends kid…”

The boys stare at amazement as the old man slowly cracks open the box with his bare hands.  They fixated their eyes so intensely that dust flowing into their eyes did not make either of them squint.  They stare at awe, at a black gleaming…

Child 1, “It’s broken…”

The old man coughs, “Yes, but…”

Child 1, “It’s just a broken sword. Is that all you brought us in old man. This is such a waste of my time. Can we...”

Child 2 interrupts, “I’ve seen this sword before but I’m not sure from where.”

The boys stare at each other.

Child 1, “Like hell have you seen a sword ever Alban!”

Alban (Child 2), “What’s gotten into you, Nero?”

Nero (Child 1), “What?”

Alban, “You’re fidgeting.”

The old man burst out laughing, “You afraid of the dark Nero?”

Nero glares at the old man and growls out, “Never!”

Old man, “Calm down kid, just a joke.”

Alban, “I remember, mother had a book with pictures like this sword, except it wasn’t broken.”

Old man, “The Never Mythos Tome, the book of ancient weapons.  Yes. This weapon was one of them.”

Nero stares back down at the broken sword with a new look of admiration.  

Nero, “A real legendary sword?”

Old man, “Yes! Very real.”

Nero takes a step closer and gaze at the shine from the sword.  The pieces of the sword glimmer red with every candle flicker.  

Nero, “It’s black steel, but it glows crimson red with the candle light.”

Old man, “Very perceptive young one…”

The old man picks up the hilt of the sword and sets it on his lap, “Now to the point. What stories have you heard about a sword that is black, black steel that glows blood red.  A sword that is wider than your head and tougher than anything.”

Nero, “I don’t know.”

Alban stares at the sword, “The Red Fury.”

Old man, “Yes, let me tell you a story about the Red Fury.”

Nero, “Why?”

Old man, “Why what?”

Nero, “Why tell us a story of the Red Fury?”

Old man, “It’s a story you must know.”

Nero, “How come?”

Old man, “It will tell you why the world is the way it is now.  Why the sky is always filled with darkness.  Why only a few supers are left on earth.”  

Alban, “Where are the supers?”

The old man places the sword back into the wooden box and watches ceiling.  His attention is drawn to the crescent light outside the window.  He takes a deep breath.

It depends on the situation. With the things he’s seen, most of the thoughts regarding the Alliance are quite violent. In fact, one of the first scenes I ever wrote for Zan involved him spitting on an Alliance flag after cutting it off one of the dummies in Silvermoon. So I suppose he is a bit prone to such thinking if the circumstances are correct.

As a child, Zanteron fancied himself an adventure. All the tales of elven adventures of old caught him and never let go. He dreamed of scaling the tallest mountains, swimming across the widest rivers and deepest lakes...even travelling across the country with nothing more than some gold in his pocket and clothes on his back.

The life he ended up...a bit less glamorous. Being a mercenary, he’s seen a plethora of different locations, but it’s never been for the simple purpose of adventuring. No, there’s always been a mission attached, limiting his time for exploration to almost nothing. So it does differ, but less than it could have if he ended up working a craft in the city.

If he could change one thing, it would probably be his lack of skill with words. The type of fighter he is and the level of skill with words absolutely matches: bull in a china shop. It takes a lot of focus and planning for him to be able to say meaningful things the way he wants to say it instead of it sounding insulting. I love you, for instance, often comes across as a lusty look, and some sort of lewd comment.