" 𝐈 𝐚𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬,
𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝. "
- A DSMP fanfiction about a
war with recalling memories
and a rebellion involving Y/N.
• they/them pronouns
• gore and blo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" Look how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness. "
—————
"KIDS, GET INSIDE." The villagers' children hastily scampered to their doors, bolting it shut behind them and fastening all fifteen locks in place.
Ever since the denouement of the war between the kingdoms Shroomsdom and Mesaire, the villages who got betwixt with the conflict were left impoverished and afraid.
It does no good to past soldiers who got the symbol of their faction branded onto anywhere where clothing or hair does not cover to easily identify allies. However, most of the branders executed it in a hurry under the orders of the king as they were in short supply of warriors and did not turn out correctly, resulting in misidentification and killing of their allies.
Fortunately, mine turned out identifiable. Unfortunately, this was not the occasion for it.
I have a mark on the back of my hand. Whenever I do anything, everyone could see it. When I don't do anything, everyone can still see it. You'd think I'd find something to cover it with long ago. I did, but it was to no avail.
It must just be the presence of one back from war, or the menacing expressions that we held directed at enemies that we accidentally direct to the butcher. Terrible habits, I know.
I glanced around.
One after one, every direction I look, they slammed their wooden windows shutters. The unwelcoming "bam!"'s were like a bad symphony. I shook my head at this. There was no use in talking to the locals.
You see, I was released from my post. For what reason? I'm 89% sure it was because of losing function in my right arm. Luckily, my mentor taught me how to wield a sword with both hands—though I don't reckon they'd care about that. One hand of usage in war is a reliability I suppose.
"Does anybody know of a book? Specifically one about necromancy!" I hollered out. A tumbleweed skipped past the sandy grounds of the village houses in the mesa.
I'll take that as a no.
I sighed.
It might not even be a real book. I've only heard word of it overhearing an interrogation by another officer. But if it is real, it should not fall into the wrong hands.
