The Scythe: Death's Arise

Chapter 1: Thomas Marshall

As the morning sun peeked over the horizon, onto the Saefville capital city of Covenant, gleaming into the window beside the bed of Thomas Marshall, he lay there thinking to himself. Five years... It has been five years since that psychopath killed himself. To think of all that has transpired since that day. He turned to look at his now retired black steel sword and banded iron shield mounted on the wall above the headboard of his bed.
Though retired, Thomas was far from old, being only twenty two, the year was now 652. He joined the Saefville Knight Legion at the very young age of thirteen. In four long years, he shattered records and rose through the ranks until he hit General at seventeen. This was the year he killed Jack Holder, the expert military strategist of the Vendolegon Army. Thomas never found a good explanation of his combat talents and strength. He trained just as much as his peers and comrades, if not less so, yet not a single person in his rank could match his strength.

Thomas sat up on his bed, feeling the blood flow through him as his senses awakened from their long night's slumber. Stretching, he stood up and calmly walked to his dressing room. As he stood there, peering into his own emerald green eyes in a mirror, he was reminded of the many faces of whom he stared in the eyes of, and watched as their life was drained by his own lethal blade. He felt no remorse for his actions; for he felt that staring them in the eye gave them more dignity and pride for dying in the battlefield.

He always tried to send a message to them with his gaze: You've done well. May Bolvec smile upon you for your bravery and may you find closure in your ascent. Whether they received the message was unknown to him.
As harsh as the reality of war was, as gruesome as watching your comrades die in your arms could be, Thomas had never felt a crack in his sanity. He didn't know whether or not killing was the only way, but what did that matter anymore? So many lives had already ended; including that of his own father. His only goal was to see that no more pointless blood was shed. This is why he made it his mission to find and kill Jack Holder as quickly as possible, for in this action, may the blood of husbands, fathers, and sons stop flowing beneath his feet.

War... Thomas thought to himself, war is as beautiful as it is terrifying. War shows us power, nationality, bravery. As many lives as it takes, it brings more together. For in calamity, families grow and people bond in ways never thought before hand. When shown the true terrors of the world, petty squabbles, pointless bickering, and constant fights cease, as they realize how truly small their problems are. We may lose those who we love, but the heart is powerful thing. As much as it is broken, shattered, stabbed, and betrayed... it still works. Not only that, but it repairs itself to be stronger than before.

Thomas then lined a large scar on his chest with his finger. It is not purely strength that determines a victor, but purpose and devotion to your heart's goal. Whether that cause may be love, hate, or pride... it carries men and women through their battle and gives them dignity in their death; knowing that that is what they fought for, what they died for, and what was never stripped of them for even in death... Purpose loves on.

This was Thomas's philosophy on war. Knowing that the men he killed chose a purpose so heartfelt that it was worth dying for made it a little easier to kill them. Though he did doubt himself sometimes. Even as he stood atop the mound of dignified corpses, he had no idea what was ahead of him.
He still stared in the mirror, brushing his long chestnut brown hair to the side with his hands. He slid his fingers across his chin, feeling the stubble that had grown over the course of a few days. Using a shaving blade that was laying on the table, he made quick work of it. Thomas then opened a dresser and took out a set of his daily attire: a button down shirt of a various color (this particular one is white) and long brown pants. Though before he buttoned up his shirt he once again noticed the large scar on his chest. Trailing from his left shoulder to his right hip, this scar was given to him by Jack Holder himself. This was the only time Thomas had ever been struck by a nearly lethal blow.