I remember now, I remembered everything. How the battle went, how the demise went and how failure was only step one to our victory. I mean it is not like we lost nor won anyway. It was something in between. A stalemate, so to speak. I see why you brought me here, Miss. Now I get it, you are here to toy with me. Not to teach nor to share my own stories. But rather, to fool around, dangling me on strings and move me how you wish my actions to be. Like a game of role-play, where dice does the trigger for every action. Am I right?

You take me during my most vulnerable time so you can just shove me all the insults and pain I had to go through. Over and over again, in the many different timelines I went through. So, tell me. Why now?

As voices lingered through the darkness of a dry and dimmed cave, a spark of light emerges from a small hole as time turns once again, to the pitiful time known as The War. Not for this man's time nor his apprentice who sought for the peace humankind once had. But way back, back even before his own partners existed, The Guardians.

"Oh, thy had to make me rummage through my treasury again? Seriously, sister. You ought to clean me room, once in a while." A light but rather coarse masculine voice sounded out in a wooden hut, moistened by moss and filled with goblets and jewellery strewn about, with no care for safety. Brightened by only a single stick of wax, burning like a firefly's bum, it let out a musky smell of putrid remains of a dead animal which was liquefied into an oily stick.

A sound of footsteps thudded lightly as a door creaked open, with its rusty hinges holding its only few screws deep to a safety hold.

"Ah, come on. You don't have to be such a child, brother. Relax, we know you have temper problems up your noggin." A calm and soothing voice replied as the figure slowly reached her hand towards her sibling's shoulder, rubbing him to calm like a mother soothing her child. "Anyway, it is ye room after all, you should take it to yerself', ey?"

"Ah, fine. That I'll be." The male replied as he tosses his beloved sword onto his flat and mildly rough bed made of animal pelt and small dry strings of a rotten tree.

"Come on, hurry up, the others er' waiting. We need to go hunt and solve that mysterious dungeon, ey." The sister reminded her so called "younger" brother as she adjusts her small rucksack filled with vials of unknown liquid, glowing and glimmering as she hold onto a metallic stick, that rustled metallic tunes of bells and hammers.

As she walks out of the room, she leaves the door open before meeting up with her sisters, a silhouette of four, similar looking yet acted different among each other. A disarray of personalities.

One sulked about in boredom, while another stayed quiet from the rest, watching the outside, learning about the nature that feast her eyes as the birds tweeted and the small little critters scampered about, searching for fruits and nuts for their ever-moving nests.

Another one somehow always in 120% of energy, played about in her energetic state and always blabbered, a talkative one who was rather silly and ever playful. The last one was not like the rest, she was like an important figure among the others. She held high, all-mighty and gracefully strudded about in her beloved self-made custom armor that only a noble could afford from a blacksmith. Could it be stolen or was it actually earned with pure sweat and blood? Her own family questions forever.

Unfortunately, this children had no proper family, they had no parents. They were orphans. They only stuck together as a band of misfits and law-bringers for the small few coins they can produce to bring themselves together. Since they really cared and protected each other as childhood friends, they decided to stay together till ends past until they decide to leave in ones submission or for other reasons, such as marriage or outlawed.

For now, they are one family. A family that even-though had a mix of multiple and sometimes private breaking personalities, always stuck their hands together high in case they ever need help.

This family were known as the Endicrianus. A rather unique name which in their language was known as "Forevermore Strong". They are mercenaries from both unknown and also past noble lives they could have enjoyed to their hearts content if their parents were still alive during the time of old war. Their language derives from a rather similar dialect to old English. But to the English peasants themselves, for them it sounded like a crude and alien language, similar to Latin which was only available to those who had the money to afford good education and a good meal.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

What they didn't know about themselves is that they are technically not even human. They come from an old civilization of man which had the ability to actually chemise and use special abilities which in their time, was known as witchery, a powerful ability with great terrible consequences if used incorrectly. No normal man were able to use it unless taught by their own species with some sort of contract.

For the children, well, they were clueless. But somehow, they gained trust from their own village to use this magic, the villagers called them blessings, children of god and hope sent from somewhere.

They helped in hunts with the rough men to find wild boars and many different species which they called food. They tend to help also to fertilise and grow the crops which gave a perfect harvest every year. They manage to teach to the children of this small slum with knowledge barely known to man even without education, a real unlimited amount of knowledge. They helped in many things, unlike their old descendants.

Many suitors and lovers had come for their hand once in a blue moon, but the chidren of Endicrianus always declined. Because of this, rival villagers denounced them as either having a disgusting sibling relationship or unparentable. But to their beloved village, they knew why and never once hurt one of their own that helped them throughout the years.

For today, however, was one of the same days. Just an average special family, with an average special job.

"Come on, hurry up brother!" The energetic one called loudly as she sprang about in her white yet muddy blouse. Made from probably yarn and some sticks, it was fine needlework that made it last that long even with strikes of swords leaving it with stitches needed to be mended. "Its hunt time! We have to go before the blood moon starts. You know what happens during those times!"

A grunt and a toss of "something". The male came out of his room and locked his door before dragging along his double edged short-sword on a leather sling with a bag filled with food and other thingamajigs. "Ey, I'm here. Sorry for the late."

"Great, now we can leave! I was getting exhausted waiting for thy." The dull one snaked out from her sly smile. As she got up from her stool, she picks up her bow and a few wooden arrows tipped with metal sharp nibs and some sort of old reddish dry liquid, blood perhaps from old hunts. She was a famous archer in this country. Always praised for her proper aim and creative lengths she go through. The only thing most people disliked about her was her ever bored personality, that only a few could entertain and love.

"Right…. Willow, you always have to say something bad." The male replied in a mildly tempered way as he drops his key into his small safety pocket.

"Eh, what gives.." The bored girl sulked once more before following the tallest sister whom was known as Valour, the one who always had her chin up and loved to fight people ten times stronger than her. She never loss a fight, but her femininity is always being forgotten due to her sheer cockiness and rough behavior.

Sometimes rogues and rivals dared to challenge her to a duel, only to get their asses kicked by a woman too high for their caliber. Though she was the tallest and acted as the oldest in the group, she was actually the second youngest, next to the talkative one who was still rather a playful wisp of a child. I wonder, what will ever happen to her if she ever loss to a man who can actually rival her hand to hand, would she submit to his desires or would she try to retaliate, only a perverse mind with wandering eyes and thoughts could only think such as those.

"Wait up..." The calm one called out as she skips about with her shaky stick. Pulling along her brother, the little one sprinted from behind as she quickly adjusts her weapon belt as tightly as possible.

"Sister Stella, Brother Wolfe, wait up!" The little one cried as she grabs the tail of her big brother's bag.

The voices of the six always awakened the morning cock, cawing the villagers for their opening of stalls and their readiness for their next job. They were the sunflowers in the field of poppies. The ones who guided the smaller plants to their best extraction of nutrition. As they sprinted to the deep dark ends of the forest that no normal hunter would enter without proper preparation and inventory, they had no choice but to rely on this specials that never knew what fear or death meant.

As they ventured deep, Sister Valour sliced through blades of tall grass and prickly branches of overgrown plants. Sister Stella brightened their path with her light that she conjures from her palms as Sister Willow and Brother Wolfe scouted out the area for potential food to bring back for later.

Meanwhile, silly ol' little Sister Wisp, well wisped through from tree to tree with her agile and rather monkey like reflexes as she plucks out fruits and nuts which humans are able to consume without consequences. Smelling them off for being ripe and if they are plantable for re-harvest, will be noted down in her small little dry letter scroll.

As some time passed, they ended up to their favorite resting spot. A giant waterfall the middle of the dangerous forest as they relaxed under the cold and fresh liquid as they swam and bathed under the shade of leaves cowering their beauty from preying eyes. Cleaning and drying off their bloody or dirty clothing, they used special ashes that were compressed into bars of soaps as they left a campfire on, roasting some of their catch for their lunch.