Vagabond Blades

Oh? Look at you, sitting there all smug, like you've got this whole thing figured out. 'Oh, cool, another post-apocalyptic story? Seen it, over it. Mmkay, buh bye now.' Well, guess what, my dude? You don't know jack shit. And you definitely don't know Sky King and Ezra Black. If you did? Yeah, you'd be swan diving headfirst into this glorious mayhem. But hey, don't worry; no one's gonna force you to stay. Nah, we don't force. It's all optional chaos here. Dip in whenever you feel like it, champ.

Ezra and Sky? Oh, they're two walking middle fingers to destiny. These two? They've been curb-stomping nightmares since they were seven and eight. Yeah, that's right-SEVEN. EIGHT. Barely old enough to tie their own shoes, let alone survive in a world where demons make humans their midnight snack. But you know what? They fucking survived. You think you could last that long in a post-apocalyptic shitshow without some heavy handed plot armor? Go ahead and give it a shot. I'll wait.

Now, cut to right the fuck now. The boys are knocking on thirty-and let me tell you something-they're dominating. In a world they shouldn't have survived, they jackknife powerbombed the shit outta it and slammed it into the goddamn pavement. Yeah, they shook it down in the most disrespectful way possible and came out on top, thriving like absolute fucking kings.

Sure, maybe their moral compass is more of a "suggestion" than a "guiding principle." Maybe they're not out here kissing babies and saving kittens. Who gives a fuck? If you were expecting noble warriors fighting for truth and justice, I hate to break it to you, but you took a wrong turn at the metaphorical fork in the road.

Sky and Ezra? They're the nightmares that keep other nightmares up at night.

*Cue the soundtrack*

(Now let's rip that fourth wall down and go ride this thing into the sunset!)