Ye Olde Communism

The Entire Story (No Updates)

A long time ago, in the days of knights and chivalry, there was a kingdom of unimaginable wealth: Capitalista. It's inhabitants, the Capitalists, were crazed with what we call free enterprise, and everyone fought to the death just to earn the materialistic things they actually didn't need. Of these people, there existed two groups: the Upper Class and the Lower Class.The Upper Class made up the minority (obviously), and they had exceeded in their economy, and led wealthy lives. Everyone else was fit into the Lower Class, and they all resided in a small, poverty stricken village to the south, so poor it didn't even deserve a name. The Lower Classians were simple laborers, people who never had the chance to rise in wealth, doomed to poverty since birth. They had grown a hate for the other Capitalists, and they dreamed of someday gaining the wealth they worked all of their lives for, and many of the elders even prophesied such an event. But for what seemed like an eternity, the prophecy remained unfulfilled, nary a man who could hope to stand against the advanced weaponry of the Upper Class. And then, the tides of fate shifted. On a dark, stormy night, a child was born. But this was no ordinary child, nay, for he did not shed a tear upon being birthed. The plebeians knew he was the answer to the prophecy, and so they named him Proletarius, the defender of the proletariat. 20 years passed, and Proletarius had aged into a strong, hard-working individual, and it seemed he was ready for his quest. But Proletarius doubted himself, and knew that if he were to leave the village he would face certain death. And so, to the disappointment of the village, Proletarius denied his duty, and depression sank deep into the hearts of the Lower Classians once again. Fortunately for them, the sadness wouldn't last long.

On that same day, in the cover of darkness, Proletarius was awoken by a strange feeling of unease, for he was being watched by a mysterious apparition. He turned to face the intruder, and his eyes met with those of a tall, bearded man. The man did not resemble anyone Proletarius knew, and his clothing was that of a seemingly future time. Before our hero could question what he was seeing, the strange figure spoke.

"Proletarius, you must take back what belongs to your people," he began, with a heavy accent, "You must destroy the Upper Class, and redistribute the Commonwealth."

"B-b-but how?" Proletarius stuttered, "My weapons are too weak, the enemies' too strong."

The stranger then pondered for a moment, or at least it seemed he did, and then snapped his fingers, magically manifesting the finest suit of armor Proletarius had ever seen. It was constructed of gleaming iron, with a brilliant red star adorning the breastplate and a crimson red cape flowing from behind. Next to the suit of armor sat a longsword of the finest steel and a shield that bore an insignia unfamiliar to Proletarius, which appeared to be a hammer crossing a strange farmer's tool.

"These should aid you in your great quest," the intruder replied as Proletarius began to equip his new gift. "Now are you ready to fulfill your destiny?"

Proletarius, now fully armored, took a deep breath, "Yes, I will destroy the Upper Class!"

"Then I shall take my leave," the stranger replied, turning to open the door.

"Oh, one more thing!" he remembered "Take this." He handed Proletarius a thick, leather bound book "Consult this when in times of peril." The mysterious man then walked out the door and disappeared into the night.

Proletarius, still recovering from the shocking visit, turned the book over and noticed the title, written in a fancy font in the color of gold,

"The Communist Manifesto...." he read inquisitively. He opened the aged cover and skimmed through the musty pages, not really interested in anything he saw. "No matter!" he exclaimed, "I'll probably never meet trouble in my mighty apparel!" Proletarius now knew it was time to start his quest. Without a second thought, he kicked down his door and ran to the village stables, waking several of the sleeping peasants. Before he knew it, almost everyone in the village was following his stead, cheering him on.