The day the Crimson Cavalry once again took to the plains marked the end of the decade long war between the Cutren tribes and the Urcan overlords. The elite Cutren spearmen weren't able to hold the Crimson King's charge heralding the fall of the young Cutren empire. The Slaughter King of the Cutrens was slain and his lineage ended.
Barely 50 years passed since the Crimson King led his cavalry to sweep aside any opposition and to usurp the Urcan crown. The dissenters spent many years to form the Cutren movement yet the fledgling state was crushed by the soldiers and the Urcans limitless runes.
The defeat spelled a wave of terror as the climatic battle was the last hope for the many towns and villages that had risen against the tyrant. It took only a day for the city of Eblos to be burnt down. A grim prophecy of what was to come. The men were executed and the women enslaved. The rich velvet and silks of Eblos were ripped from dead hands as the Urcans revelled in their glory. The burning skies of Eblos was a beacon, guiding the messengers of Xuclea and Poslen as they rushed in an effort to be the first to lay down their arms and offer surrender to the Crimson King. And thus started the fiercest era in the contest for the crown of the continent of Rustren.
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10 years later
Oslem was a wealthy town situated at the border of Urcan lands and the lands of the Sheoqua. To the west was the rolling mountains of Xuclea and to the east was the neverending desert of the Sheoqua Sultanate. It was the town's unique location that contributed the most to the settlements thriving economy as to the south lay the Boorish Desolate. An enormous and bountiful land filled with countless opportunities and grave danger.
The wasteland was home to the desolate beasts, mindless monsters born of the demonic rifts. Their bodies were essential materials for the crafting and the study of runic inscriptions. As the furthest frontier that humans had established in the wasteland, Oslem was a hotbed of mercenary and military activity, jointly managed by the Sheoqua capital, Shariz, to the east and Xuclea to the west.
“Get up! Again!” Toale had heard this shout so many times that his movement was almost instinctive. He quickly rolled, avoiding a heavy blow. Jumping to his feet he glared at the man before him. Graveth wasn't a tall man, neither was he stocky. With a thin wiry build and a scarred face, it was obvious that he was no stranger to violence. Today he's face was further marred with a frown. His displeasure showing as he rained down blows that could incapacitate the young man in front of him if and when they connected.
If I knew that the old bastard would flip out so much I would've waited to sneak off again.
Toale was sandy haired muscular youth. His dark eyes and pale skins reminiscent of the Cutren tribes while his muscular physique illustrated the hours that he had been forced to endure harsh physical training. Graveth was his uncle, and also the leader of a mercenary group that made frequent forays into the unknown.
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He’s also a bastard that looks happier giving me a beating than visiting the brothel.
Cursing, Toale limped back to his shack while nursing his wounds. Today's ‘spar’ was even more ruthless than usual and Toale could feel the pain as if there were countless daggers pricking him. Despite his condition a bright gleam could be spotted in his eyes as he thought of the coming day. Tomorrow would be his sixteenth birthday as well as his Runic Awakening. It was also the day that a child was considered an adult and traditionally could make his own choices. He grinned as he thought of all the mischief that he would create in town when his uncle could no longer force him to remain in the mercenary band. Toale didn’t doubt that Graveth would try to interfere, but his traditional and stiff ways made it so that he would not take any action further than tacit disapproval.
Runic awakening was a ritual that all 16 year olds went through. The awakening was used to consolidate the blood of the youth and create an ancestral rune. The rune in question would be the innate rune of the bearer and would gift strength and abilities that dwelled within the person's bloodline.
There were three types of runes. Inherited, mutated and acquired. Inherited was those that were passed down a particular bloodline. This was common among much of the continent's populace. Mutated was much much rarer and could theoretically occur to anyone . However, the chances of a successful mutation happening was so miniscule that many aspiring men could only dream of it. The strength one could be obtained from a mutated rune was far stranger and much more powerful. As for acquired, there was only a single acquirable rune in existence. The rune of the king, the king of Rustren. The bloodsoaked rune that had borne witness to countless deaths and endless seas of blood since the demise of the last Emperor of Rustren.
These runes were then split into 3 major groups. Body enhancement, mage and support. Body enhancement directly affected the body of the bearer and could lead to powerful abilities such as draconic transformations or useless ones such as an increased sensitivity to pain. Toale shuddered as he remembered the tortured look on that man's face after he had killed himself merely months after his awakening - an example of a bad mutation. Mage runes allowed the bearer to interact with nature itself. Borrowing the forces of the world to rain down destruction. These runes usually had an elemental affinity and an aptitude for magic. The higher the aptitude the more potential and strength. Support runes were more mystical and mysterious. These runes usually worked with the mind and were sought after for traits such as hypnosis and telepathy.
Thinking of his uncles Iron Wolf physique, Toale sighed as he realized that he would most likely get a body enhancement rune due to his lineage. It wasn't bad, but the might of a mage's spells were not only flashy but peerless at destruction. Mages were also the only group capable of having the mental prowess to forge Runic Artifacts. Objects infused with the essence of a desolate beast using many materials and well guarded runic knowledge. Sighing, Toale lay down grimacing in pain as his cuts brushed against the coarse fabric of his bed. In any case, he would find out tomorrow.