In this realm, where blood runs deeper than the Great lakes, and the clash of iron and steel bears its weight more resoundly, what lays rampant is a never ceasing brutal front and indecisive complicity. A wake of foreboding or destruction prevails the air, and indiscriminating weeps of fletching carried the brunt of the stick harsh era.
As 'Dusk' choked the ray of sunlight nearing the end of day, Klean Lyn, a lone fourteen-year-old teen nearing adulthood, fourteen and forgotten by blood and kin, stride toward the wilderness. A continent of this era considered man and woman, an adult at the age of fifteen. He soon to be a man, but no ceremony to hold grand.
He trekked alone, just wearing a self made leathered vest and a black and bluish tipped axe fastened at his side. Looking towards the horizon where he glanced a crude skin leathered map at his hand. Indicating the 'supposed' land granted to him.
Steadfast on his stride, without any inkling notion for what's to come.
His ‘Orignal’ name was Mush Lynian Mortdom, but not once he cared nor cherished the birth name, many hold it with pride where aspiration and justice once roamed the land, rather than hold it as an honor, he considered it a deadweight he holds no desire to bear.
He preferred Klean Lyn, the name given by the one who had truly raised him and taught him about the world workings and dealings, a middle-aged woman, a huntress and an amazing crafter. She once found a lost lordling deep in the forest take upon herself to adopt this pitiful child and nourish it.
“Grip the 'once' you hold dear, Grasp the opportunity when it presents itself unbothered”
Breathing true to her words, he whispered the phrase with confidence, she always told him this phrase whenever he felt lost and disheveled by the clutches of unfairness in the world. As the sliver of sun dipped below the jagged horizon, those very words, were all the warmth he had felt.
The path narrowed, towering walls of reddish stone appeared on his vision, covered like crimson blood soiled by past wars. This was a pass called Bloomery Red Pass, Crimson rocks resembled chunks of flesh smeared along the walls of the chasm pass. Beyond this passage lay the southeastern reaches of Eldrige Mortdom - a stricken, underdeveloped, and looming dangers greeting at their back who dares to enter. Ferals of the woods roam, slighted of the dammed that grovel within, forever where your grave must be.
“Ahh whose fledgling are you, well no matter” his alleged father Viscount Ford Elaric Mortdom, had declared questioningly from his high seat days prior. A man's voice with aristocratic indifference. The man had forgotten Klean even existed until court politics required a sacrificial pawn to claim the untamed south
“Go, raise the cattle land, tame it like a wild mutt for me” the last words his alleged father told him before exiling him once again without prior warnings.
While remembering the sour reunion with his bastard of a father, a pint of silence came by.
Uneasiness!
It crawled up to his spine like venomous centipedes clamoring to take his life. A honed instinct, he developed while following his adopted huntress of the woods.
The wind suddenly hollowed not once billowed through the crimson jaws of the Bloomery Red Pass.
The uneasiness of fright, the nerves in his body jumped then suddenly felt so; deliberate!
The shadows stretched across the rough edges of crimson colored flesh like rocks that seemed to peel themselves away from the….
Swoosh !
A metallic hiss of unsheathed steel cut through the wind. Three figures emerged from the peeled crimson rocks; cloaked in blending crimson and grays of cloth covered their entire bodies. They moved skillfully and “gracefully” as professional hunters and killers.
Klean didn’t stand still. His eyes squinted, deep resounding sharp eyes, an unnatural mutation of pale luminous green and rimmed with a feral tint of blood red. Naturally dodge like a retreating wolf but a third crossbow bolt still narrowly graze his forehead. Only nicking a few strands of his short but sharp black hair with green highlighted streak of hair at his front bangs. Nearly avoiding a fatal injury at his temple.
As the armor piercing bolt whistled past, Klean felt a hot stinging friction, the same tingling friction mirrored the fangs of the smoky red snake he once encountered and wrestled with when he was young.
The sensation felt far but near, far from the past and near in the present.
Simmered by the crossbow bolt, while he seethed with irritation to these meddling baboons he compared the assailants as the annoying ‘redtrap monkeys’ using sturdy sticks as javelins.
Three assassins spoke in unison while hiding their essence
” Two older Truffles send their regards to you ” the lead assassin hissed first, with a tone of sarcastic lisp
“ Truffles? ” Klean questioned this odd description.
“A parting gift of farewell if you will, we’re just tucking you in your bearing; Land!”
He thinks of a solution to quickly end this “shenanigans” Klean describes this odd but clearly planned ambush.
Brandishing a single stone axe he had crafted 1 year ago. A careful selection of blocks of sharpened blacktoise mixed with hardening blue dust to further enhance its durability; bound to a hardened long stick with dried plant fiber and animal sinew.
“Hmmm, Truffles huh,” Klean muttered, a glint of ferocity glistened through his luminous green and red tint emerging through his irises.
“Rich, fat, pestering that grows in the dirt as they should; Sounds exactly like the supposed brother I had. ”
A sharp tongue you got there. Let’s see if that rock of yours can stop, tempered stelled. “ A ‘bruskle’ assassin taunted at the side.
The lead’s eyes narrowed and then lunged at his prey. Thrusting upward in a lethal arc aimed directly at Klean’s Throat. As the other two flanked Klean at each side. Discarding any form of defense drawing arcs of lethal hunting scimitars.
Klean pivoted to his left heel, then arched his waist, swiftly leading a dagger to slice through empty air. He followed with a long arc ‘high spinning kick’ using his spinning momentum. Klean rock scaled lizard boots encroached cleanly, hitting the two hunting scimitars flanking him, diverting the trajectory of his assailant strikes.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He then swung his blacktoise axe in a tight, brutal uppercut towards the lead assassin.
Clang!
The head assassin tried to parry, the collision of the hardened bluetoise axe against the assassin's steel rang out. The superior durability of the crafted axe held true.
Klean without giving any chance of opening, gave another swing of his hardened blacktoise axe with a swift switch of backhand grip slicing diagonally aiming at the hilt of the steel scimitars.
Crack!….. Shatter!
The steel scimitars shattered near at the hilt where it was struck, sending fragmented shards in the air in the process.
Before the lead assassin could process what just happened.
Klean “Grasp the opportunity when it presents itself” cleaved cleanly the petrified cloak man through his neck.
A sudden fountain erupted from the severed neck, painting the once crimson flesh like walls of the Bloomery Red Pass with an additional freshly dark red coat.
The leader shakingly stumbled backwards while grasping his severed neck, his eyes plastered with frozen, but bewildered disbelief.
A heavy thud followed as the leader's body hit heavily onto a gravel path, as his eyes lost the luster and smugness it once showed towards its prey.
Klean stood over the corpse, sighting steadingly, his blacktoise axe readying for another kill as blood trickled down from its hardened bluish tint sharp edge.
The two remaining assassins, still staggering to their feet from the force of his spinning kick, froze. The mocking sneers hidden beneath their gray and crimson face wraps dissolved into sheer, perplexed cloak faces.
Before either of them could raise their scimitars to retaliate, an unnatural hum resounded in his head, and then Ding echoed within his very fiber of mind.
[HUM] [HUM}
[Ding]
The prompt appeared in front of Klean vision
[Congratulations for a new Lord emerging!]
[Awakening initiated: Raise of the Lord’s Territory]
[Other mode waiting to be unlocked soon as better]
[#$!##$$##$ Unknown]
[Name: Klean Lyn (Mush Lynian Mortdom) / Age; 14 / Status: Exiled Lordling, The Wandering Lord
[Welcome, Lord Klean.]
A translucent screen materialized before his pale green and red-rimmed eyes. Klean blinked, his combat instincts warring with the sudden, inexplicable magic floating in his vision.
Klean shifted his sharp gaze through the transparent blue text, locking into the two remaining assassins.
“Die, you little brat “the ‘bruskle’ assassin roared, as he lunged the scimitar in a wide horizontal slash.
Klean jumped sideways with the light, effortless grace of a fox. As the blade passed, he then counter attacked with the forecity of a wolf. He then pounced forward, slamming the butt of his axe into the man's ribs before bringing the blacktoise blade down into his shoulder blade.
The third assassin tried to embed his curved blade at Klean back, a slight opening presented itself; as the cloak man took advantage of.
However, Klean nerves doubled as he tried to parry the incoming blade. Still finding his back unprepared, as the blade slices through, gushing his back in the process.
As the cold steel bit into the flesh of his shoulder blade, Klean felt the warm, and wince from jolting pain, from the gushes of blood begin to soak into his leather vest. Then he grimacingly pulled away from the attack range of his opponent.
‘Even a wolf could be cornered any given time’, but ferocity still emerges from his gritted teeth, Klean pulse quickened, and sudden feral red in his irises flaring with unnatural predatory luminescence.
Klean hand then dived into his rabbit skin bag, grasping a red rock through his fingers. A blackened and reddish flint sharpened like an arrow tip, a specialized throwing stone he had spent considerable time sharpening and picked the best quality flint stone in the river bank from his travels.
“ I’ve seen foxes take worse from a bear and still walk away with the kill,” Klean hissed, as his eyes glinted with reddish flare.
Klean arms whipped forward as the projectile flung towards the assassin, hitting the assassin's chest and collarbone in quick succession.
Thwack!
Argh!!
The third assassin groaned from the black reddish flint, a pointy and jagged edge, buried deep in his collarbone, and chest.
Klean once again pounced forward like a wolf, towards ’Bruskle assassin not letting its prey to recover or escape, ignoring the third assassin grimacing alone. Despite the searing pain emitted from his back, he also moved like a swift raven, an opportunistic bird, striking when it saw its chance or never glazing over a weak point through its deep prying eyes.
Finding the opportune moment and diving straight to the vulnerable point to strike.
“ One for the damned “ And!. One for the Crow! “ Klean clamored with a loud growl.
He closed the distance in a single explosive burst. The’Bruskle assassin, still clutching his wounded shoulder while he grimaced from the pain, tried to scramble away, however, a one step to late Klean’s blacktoise axe was already in motion. With a full throttle of downward cleave that hummed through the air.
Cleaving through the assassin head towards his abdomen. Disbelief still plastered the cloak man's eyes and an audible thud came after as the assassin went limp instantly.
“ Ha… Ha …. Ha “
As Klean Haughting and Puffing trying to gain back his needed composure and oxygen.
The pass fell silent, while the whistling sound of the wind came back, and the rhythmic trinkle ‘dropping’ of blood falling from Klean’s back trailing down in his leather vest onto the red rocks.
[Ding]
[Succesful Battle, My lord!]
[3 Hostiles Killed: Gained Combat Experience + 30 EXP]
[Scenario Event: First Ambushed Defended: +50 Orb Skill]
[New skill obtain:’Raven Scavenge’ (Passive)
- Identifies and highlights lootable items from fallen foes.
[Scavenge Results:]
- 3x Steel Scimitars (Worn)
- 1x Light Crossbow (Damaged)
- 8x Iron-tipped Bolts
- 15x Bronze Coins
- 1x Map of the Southeastern Border (Detailed)
[Status]
- Name: Klean Lyn
- Tittle: Fledgling Lord
- Orb Skill: 50
[Skills]
- +Triggered Skill : Wolven Ferocity (Passive)
- A skill activates when a target is wounded, granting a burst of raw power. Like a wolf locking its jaws towards its prey. ( 2x the bursting power when the user is cornered
(“A beast is more Fiercer and Powerful when its cornered!”)
- +Triggered Skill: Evasive Wolf (Passive)
- An evasive skill that prioritize safety over striking (“Pivot retreat like a nimble wolf escaping danger”)
- +Triggered Skill Foxen Throw (Active)
- Allows near instant draw or release of hidden throwable objects or projectiles. A whip like motion of a wrist to maximize draw speed from a standstill
(“Like a deceptive snap of a fox burrowing itself to catch their prey”)
- +Triggered Skill Ravenous Opportunistic
-A pinpoint strike that hones in on the vital gaps of staggered or injured foes, delivering a lethal attack a thrust or slice to the unguarded point of an enemy’s defense.
(“Like a raven’s sharp beak finding the marrow within an opened cracked bone”)
- +New ’Raven Scavenge’ (Passive)
- Identifies and highlights lootable items from fallen foes.
(“Like a raven finds the silver in the mangled rabbles”).