Herathyn

By: Herathyn

I awoke somewhere near a devastated bridge, a once beautiful structure with scrolling framework of bright white marble. It arched lazily over a chasm separating two groups battling for control. Balls of fire lobbed overhead, and smoke billowed on the horizon. I was dragged from the water's edge by a face with sharp serious features and ridiculous pointy ears. "On your feet Ascended. The Machineborn come. Your happy reunion can wait."

I remembered nothing. Not even a name. Even the dagger at my waist and the bow upon my back, clearly worn from frequent use, felt unfamiliar. Still though, they felt somehow . . . tainted . . . from battle. My revile was interrupted by the cries of war as plate mail clanked, swords were drawn, and the very air crackled magic began to twist and bend the elements.

Overwhelmed, exhausted, and confused, I was somehow at peace. "Maybe it's a good thing I can't remember my life. How can anything filled with 'this' be good?" Those before me closed in. A blade raised for a final strike. . .

Time stood still.

Countless lives stretched out before me and offered a wealth of experience. Battle hardened generals, time-aged sages, and even the forest itself seemed to guide me. That old dagger glowed brightly as it found the throat of my attacker. With the force of nature itself the front line of the enemy advance broke asunder. My bow had found my hand at last. Arrows let loose in a flurry, and one by one the invaders fell to the might of a power unknown to me.

I decided to head for the smoke on the horizon for it seemed that I was born for battle, and in battle shall I be reborn.

Herathyn . . . That was my name . . . once.