What is a plague of the land to dwellers of the sky? In cities, guarded by silver lined clouds, and brilliantly lit with golden rays, what care would they have for the world below?
Once, I envied them. How could I not? The world, my world, had been consumed by death, and decay. Countless thousands died, and many more suffered fates worse than death.
Once, I ran. I tried to escape what I feared, what I did not understand. The dead do not walk, do not kill. And yet, that was my reality. The reality I was forced to accept.
Once, I fought. I grew disgusted with my own weakness, and took up arms. Bloody battles against seemingly endless hordes. I lost many things: friends, family, even pieces of myself.
Once, I won. I saw the Scourge defeated, down to the last damned soul. Under my watch, not a one was allowed to relish in its undeath. And not a one was allowed the chance to turn. Not a one.
Now, I am heralded a hero. I am despised a monster. I am many things, good and ill in unequal measure. Forged in dire circumstance, I am what the world needed, but I will never be what it wants. All that is left is a question, a single one for the masters of the sky.
When I find the Cloud Empire, I will ask the great Emperor Nimbus my question, what has been burning in my heart all these years:
How were you above it all?
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Above it All
FantasyThe Scourge is how history will know it. The time that defined, and shaped the person I am today is how I will know it. The Scourge was costly to all who survived. Countless died, dozens of cities and villages were swept away in lethal waves. I s...
