Eldar Arbilt was an odd lad. For 20 years of his life, he sat and looked down a well. Before he knew it, 20 years had gone by. His tribe had given him the level of attention he often gave to his toothbrush, and he now looked down the same well.

Eldar was an ordinary person within the Deycore tribe. He had managed to summon 8 stripes within his solemn 20 years, which could be considered above average. However, his calm nature and non-existent charisma threw out any chance he had of becoming a warrior. The Deycore tribe was an ancient tribe formed who knows how many years ago by the Ancestral Being. The tribespeople worshipped the ancestral being every day as he himself protected the village.

The ancient tale went like this:

Once upon a time, a wrathful lord descended from the blood-red heavens as he stained the ground with blood and guts. All that stood in his way, stood behind him minutes later. Headless. He crashed through fields and mountains until he arrived at a small village.

Unable to defeat such a celestial being after years of fighting, the remaining Duires gathered as they formed a ritual from their blood. The ancestral being at the time was a mighty warrior, yet even his blade grew dull facing the hell-burnt monstrosity that descended.

The celestial being soon landed, and dust flew in every direction. His two blood-red eyes glowed in the night as his blade rose.

A red skybeam gathered and it descended. Silence.

Armageddon.

The blade descended in an instance, and after silence, chaos followed. Ears were mutilated as eyes wept. The ancestral being held the blade of destruction with only his two hands. As his skin faded and his muscles twisted, a small yellow orb from his insides erupted. A vastly expanding dome of yellow soon followed.

But it was all for naught.

The blade of Armageddon pulled through and the Duires were wiped off the map.

Or so the realm claimed in its teachings and history.

The yellow dome did prevail in its purpose.

And the Duires remained.

"And that marks the 722nd reading of the tale."

A calm voice soothed the crowd of giggling children.

Eldar looked into the well as he touched his long hair.

"Which am I then?"

The nearby giggles and clapping were muffled as Eldar's eyes hollowed.

A silhouette of a lady with wavy black-long hair and a terrified look in her eyes as she crawled back on her legs.

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There was blood on the floor, and a small Duire sat there. His blue skin glowed in the moonlight as his black eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Mama?"

The rotting corpse by his side was revealed as it lay in shadow.

Chrck.

A silver flash crossed as the lady moved her hand from right to left.

"Mama?"

"Mother."

A sombre and deep voice called this time.

Eldar reached his hand out to the bottom of the well.

"How I miss you."

Eldar squinted his two thin eyes before he made for the village chief's office.

The door had been replaced with lines of sparkling blue gems 2 years ago and had been one of the best choices ever made, according to the village chief.

"Eldar." An old voice filled with kindness alerted Eldar from the corner of the room. The village chief had shrunk from his prime and was a head shorter than Eldar. He clung onto a wooden branch as his grey frizzy hair rose. The village chief had been frail for too long, and his robes were fading.

"Village Chief."

The village chief nodded as he saw Eldar's healthy disposal.

"I wouldn't spend so much time at the well if I were you. Back in my day, it was swinging swords or cleaning boards. "

The village chief blanked out for half a minute as he stared into the distance.

"Village chief."

"Ah." The village chief cleared his throat loudly. "Young Eldar, it is time for you to make your choice. Do you wish to become an axe-cutter, a gladiator, or maybe even a steel-worker? "

"Village Chief." Eldar met the village chief's eyes as a rush of anxiety scraped at the back of his head.

"I wish to go outside."

The Village Chief looked at Eldar in surprise.

"Why is the room too stuffy?"

Eldar stood in silence.

"Not just the room. This whole village. "

Silence. Soon the sounds of children playing could be heard through the stone walls.

"Eldar. Listen to me. " The village chief sighed as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

"It's not worth it."

Eldar swiftly rebutted, but a glare from the village chief cut him down.

"Just go sit by the well, stare down the darkness, and find yourself. Within the village, that is, of course. "

Eldar heard the door close behind him as he walked out.

Eldar thought to himself as he hunched down.

"Strange." I've never seen the chief glare.'

Guess I'll just sit in front of the well then. On the bench, looking at the village.'

And that's exactly what Eldar did.

For a while.

The sound of fire-crackling sounded around Eldar as roaring flames tore through wooden houses and green fields.

The Village Chief met eyes with a man within the fire. A huge figure that towered over the chief and his bronze skin. A stone sword the size of a house and a wild smile.

The village chief closed his eyes as centuries of memories rushed through him.

Blue energy soared past the village chief as he put up a martial stance.

The village chief roared.

"GAAR-."

clunk.

Through houses and roads, the village chief trailed through before a long dirt trail was visible.

The village chief coughed blood and guts as dust entered his eyes.

"Good evening, Chief."

Eldar sat on the bench, as he had for 21 years.

The Village Chiefs' eyes blazed with red-hot anger.

"You bastard. Think of the children."

The two met eyes.

"What Children?"

Eldar tilted his head.

Eldar stood up before he opened his mouth for his last words to the village chief.

"Guess it's time for me to leave the village and live my best life."

Eldar smirked, satisfied as he began slowly walking away.

But a voice from behind stopped his little escapade.

"What best life?"

"Huh?"

Eldar could only look before a chain of bright white clamped down and scorched his neck. The unbearable heat made Eldar scream inside as he jumped into the well in a trance.

As Eldar sank into the water, muffled speech could be heard.

"I, Jindo Arlile, command this man to a soul promise. He shall avenge his village or his sins will burn him till the frogs don't croak. "

Eldar screamed in the water as his legs kicked wildly.

"BASTAR-."

Black.

Cold.

Face to-face with the cold dirt.

Severe burn marks around the neck.

Nigh Defamatory.