Long ago, the gods descended to stand amongst mortals. Guiding them from the shadows and murk into the light of creation.
With their power and wisdom, the gods would help the mortals to build a grand city. Their work finished, the gods would leave the mortals behind.
Before they left, however, they would leave behind a portion of their power in the heart of the city. This golden heart would fuel it, granting strength and life to those in its divine radiance.
The city prospered, for a time. A golden age marked by expansion into a grand kingdom, all fueled by the gods’ parting gift.
But eventually the mortals faltered, as mortals always do. They began to covet this gift, the power of creation and all the strength it could grant.
Fighting ensued, with various groups rising up to claim the power for their own.
It was decided that the city's heart would be sealed away in a sepulcher below, beyond the reach of those above.
Before the sealing was complete, four mighty and honorable warriors were chosen as guardians to protect the city's beating heart.
Imbued with its power, they would become living locks to the chamber beneath the city. Three would take their places in sanctums across the kingdom, with one remaining within the city itself.
Many would challenge the warriors. All would fall. The mortals would suffer their decline, and eventually the city became silent with its inhabitants leaving for the corners of the world.
Only the dregs were left behind, feeding on the scraps of power still flowing through the city. Thus, the world became stagnant, time meaningless, and the city lost its name.
Rohm stood alone in his sanctum within the city. Tall and powerful, he stood motionless.
For ages he stood there in his duty. Time had become little more than a blur, a static fog. With a shudder, the fog was suddenly lifted and Rohm’s senses returned to him.
There was new movement in the city. He slowly looked around his chamber, noting the cracks and encroaching plantlife. How much time had passed, he wondered.
He looked out on the once glorious city, its lofty towers and grand cathedrals now devoid of their old luster. Its beauty, now lost to neglect.
He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on it, he had never seen such majesty.
Before long, he sensed someone approaching. He hefted his large shield in one hand and his great bardiche in the other.
Soon, a man entered the chamber. They were clad in the simple armor of a lowly knight, wielding a meager sword and shield. Rohm stood ready, and the warrior charged.
It was almost too fast to see as Rohm brought his shield down to smash the knight into the ground. With a broken body, the knight could do nothing as Rohm swung his weapon and finished him off.
He stepped back, waiting for the city to remove the body as it always did. But, to Rohm’s surprise, he watched as the nameless warrior's body seemed to melt away into darkness and vanish. Strange, he thought.
He expected his mind to return to the stasis he had become accustomed to. But again he would be surprised as a short time later he would sense someone approaching once more.
He turned to the doorway to see the warrior enter once again. The same warrior he had crushed beneath his shield not long before. His foe charged, and once again Rohm brought his shield to bear.
But this time his foe would roll to the side, avoiding the massive blow. It didn’t help of course, Rohm simply swung his weapon as the warrior staggered back to his feet, cutting them down.
His speed was still shocking even after all these ages.
Again he watched the warrior fade into darkness and disappear. Time passed, and the warrior would return and once again they would fall just as quickly.
Rohm did not understand, but he didn’t need to. His duty was clear. He would keep the city’s heart secure. And he would perform this duty as the warrior would return again and again.
Rohm could see sparks of improvement in each bout, but these would soon be dampened by the warriors growing frustration.
Rohm wouldn’t grow tired. He needed no rest between fights, as the city would heal him after each encounter. He would cast this nameless knight down as many times as needed.
Eventually, the knight did not return, and Rohm thought it finished.
Rohm’s mind drifted to the past once more. He had first come to the city with his shield-mother, Sigrid. He was orphaned, his family slain by brigands.
His shield-mother had saved him just in time. He was given a choice. He could be taken to the nearest town, and be left with the proper authorities. Or, he could join her, and be raised to be a warrior in her Order.
The Order of the Shield, who remained true to the dignity and morals of the golden age, formed in the beginning of man’s decline to defend those who couldn't defend themselves.
They came to the city to get his first armor and weapon. He remembered how amused Sigrid was when he chose to wield the bardiche. Such a heavy weapon for such a small boy. Normally for two hands at that.
But she vowed to fix that.
He was ripped from his memories as he felt another shudder run through him. He turned to the city and in the distance, from the far off forest sanctum, a pillar of light shot into the sky.
He knew what it meant. One of his fellow guardians had fallen. While they were empowered and sustained by the same power that they protected, they could still be killed.
The hope was that they would be unbeatable, with Rohm being the strongest. He wondered how this could happen. Was it the undying warrior he had faced?
They must have sought out another sanctum after Their repeated defeats. Perhaps the warrior had grown stronger, or perhaps they had gotten lucky.
When mortals entered the light of creation, they were followed by beasts shortly after. They too sought to feed and grow stronger from the light of the gods.
Many dangerous creatures would call that forest home, making it unsafe for man. Soon, an order would be formed, the Beast Watch.
Dedicated to keeping the beasts of the wilds in check. Amongst their number would be Vallen, their greatest watchmen. He would slay many a great monster, which is why he was chosen as one of the four guardians.
Perhaps he had grown so used to fighting beasts that he had forgotten how to face a man. The forest itself dissuaded most challengers, after all. Rohm hoped that Vallen fought well. It’s all he could do for his comrade.
Once more, Rohm found himself reminiscing. Sigrid had raised and trained him well. He had grown strong, stronger than his brothers and sisters in the Order.
They had received word from the Beast Watch. A massive horde of beasts of a number unseen before was gathering to attack the grand city.
Rohm personally aided Vallen in preparing traps meant to thin the herd of monsters.
It would work, but only so much. He stood together with Vallen and the Watch. They soon found themselves in a whirlwind of fang and claw. Beasts of all shapes and sizes would come, and all would be slain.
Whether by Vallen’s swift spear or Rohm’s mighty swings, none would reach the city.
Rohm’s mind returned to the present. How much time had passed just now? It was hard to tell anymore. But he was again alerted to that shuddering sensation passing through him.
He looked out once more, and saw a light rising from a distant town. One of the many founded in the golden age. It was home to the sanctum where Lucan stood watch.
Lucan was a member of the Shepherds. It was the Shepherds who kept watch over the people of the city and kept them safe. Even before the decline there were men that only held ill will.
The Shepherds were nimble and quick, so as to be wherever they were needed in a manner of moments. They were ever watchful and vigilant, so they could stop an offender in an instant.
With a flash of steel, if needed.
While Rohm didn’t know Lucan very well, he knew him to be greatly skilled. This was troubling.
Two warriors had been beaten. The nameless warrior was two steps closer to the power of creation. Why did they seek it? It mattered not, Rohm supposed. His duty was clear and absolute.
He turned his attention to the fortress beyond the city’s high walls. Within that mighty citadel was the man known only as Gor. A mountain of a man.
They said he arrived from the wilds seeking a better life within the city.
A place was found for him that could make use of his talents, the Bulwark Legion. The men and women sworn to defend the city from those who would harm it from outside.
It was said that none would dare attack the kingdom as long as Gor stood amongst the legion. Rohm wished that were true.
The battle was still as clear in his mind. An enemy force had gathered, smaller enclaves and kingdoms banded together to take the gods' gift for themselves. And in defiance of them stood the Bulwark Legion.
Rohm was there, with other members of his Order, Sigrid included. He remembered how the enemy charged forward but, when Gor stepped forward, they faltered for just a moment.
But they continued on and slammed into the Legions line. Scores of men would be swept away by Gor’s mighty mace, or crushed beneath Sigrid's great hammer.
Rohm had never witnessed such a frenzy on this scale. He doubted that anyone had, but they remained strong and undaunted.
They had to. For the city and its people.
Eventually the enemy fled, and Rohm stood alongside the others in victory. He looked around the battlefield, seeing all the fallen that littered it.
Standing alone amongst them was Sigrid. Her hammer rested beside her as she held her helm under her arm. As he approached, he saw her shield slip from her hand. It was dented and cracked.
He threw off his own helmet and broke into a sprint as she wobbled, he managed to catch her before she could fall to the ground.
He saw that her armor had been pierced in multiple places, with thickened blood around the holes. She smiled at him, and touched his cheek. As he rested his hand on hers she told him of her pride in him.
Even though he had walked his own path for many years now, she was still his shield-mother. Not since the day they met had he ever felt so helpless.
He knew it was their way not to die in some bed enfeebled and old, but in service to the Order. He knew this. But his heart was torn apart all the same as he lit her funeral pyre that night.
It was that battle that led to the decision to seal away the city’s heart to it’s tomb below. When he would be called along with the others to become it’s guardians.
They didn’t know what might happen. They couldn’t have. They hoped that it would stem the greed in men’s hearts. But instead they wandered away. The light was gone, and people felt aimless.
They slowly drifted out of the city, leaving it empty. Rohm was left alone in the city Sigrid had died for.
As if on cue, he felt that feeling once more as he watched a light rise up from the Bulwark’s fortress. Gor had fallen. Rohm would once more face this unknown warrior.
But Rohm would not be daunted. He would fight with everything he had, just as he always did. Even when there was nothing left and no one to protect. He would see his duty through.
He knew it wouldn’t be long. And sure enough, he soon sensed his foe’s approach. He readied himself once more, and turned to meet his challenger.
The warrior entered. Rohm noticed that they carried themself with a new bearing. One of experience and strength. They had changed Their armor since the last time.
He recognized pieces from the Beast Watch and the Shepherds. He saw Vallen’s spear on the warrior’s back, and in their hands were Lucan’s famed twin blades, with their keen edges still as sharp as they come.
Rohm couldn’t blame the warrior. These new arms would give him a greater chance, and he planned to make it as hard as he could for this deathless knight.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then the warrior rushed forward. The fight had begun.
Rohm swung his bardiche wide, forcing his foe to maneuver themself out of range. He kept up his assault, slowly forcing the knight back towards a wall.
As Rohm brought his weapon to cut down his foe, the knight dashed to the side and delivered a flurry of steel. Rohm was, luckily, quick enough to block with his greatshield.
However, the knight was able to get to a more open area of the chamber. They had improved, Rohm thought, there was no doubt they were leagues better then when they had first met.
Where this strength came from, he had no idea. They went back and forth for a time. The knight alternated between keeping their distance and finding openings to get in close only to be blocked by Rohm’s shield.
The knight soon sheathed their blades and reached behind their back. They pulled out what appeared to be clay containers. They hurled one at Rohm, who instinctively raised his shield to block.
It crashed against his shield, followed by another and another. He lowered his shield and saw that it was now covered in a sticky, black substance.
He looked at the knight just in time to see the firebomb soaring at him.
Rohm tried to move, but the bomb still managed to hit its target. Rohm’s shield was quickly covered in flame, putting off thick, acrid black smoke.
No doubt they had taken these Items from the citadel where they fought Gor.
He had no choice. He was forced to cast off his shield. The knight was quickly upon him.
The knight’s strategy resumed and, despite Rohm’s added caution, they began to land slashes. Lucan’s blades were able to cut at Rohm’s armor, he was being pushed on the defensive.
Rohm managed to land glancing blows, but wasn’t able to bring his full force down onto the knight. The knight was reading his moves, Rohm was certain of it.
He knew he was bleeding. He knew that even if he beat his opponent this time, he would return. And eventually…
No.
Rohm shook these thoughts away. He would fight as he always had.
He prepared a strike and the knight began to move in. As Rohm had hoped he would. He quickly leveled his bardiche and, holding it across his body with both hands, he thrusted it forward.
The knight couldn’t adjust in time and was hit by the stunning blow directly to their helmet. As the knight stumbled back, Rohm followed up with a straight kick to send them flying backwards.
Rohm quickly advanced as the knight leapt back to their feet and, to Rohm’s shock, hurled Lucan’s blades at him. One missed, one sunk into his thigh.
Rohm wobbled and raised his weapon for his final blow, only to feel Vallen’s spear pierce through his body.
The spear. He had forgotten about the spear. Perhaps time had addled his mind after all.
His hands trembled, and his weapon slipped from his hands. The knight pulled out the spear and Rohm stumbled backwards. He wanted to fight, how desperately he wanted to.
But he felt his strength leaving him. He pulled Lucan’s blade out of his leg and dropped it to the ground. He fell to his knees and stared at the knight. They were still at the ready, prepared to strike.
Rohm reached down and grabbed his weapon once more. He willed himself back to his feet and readied to attack, only to be run through again.
He winced and gritted his teeth. One last time he raised his weapon, and one last time he was speared.
Rohm fell backwards to the ground. His great strength had left him. The knight collected his weapons and then came and knelt beside him.
He placed a fist to his chest, and bowed his head in respect. Rohm slowly uncurled his fingers from his weapon, only for the knight to close them again.
It was over, the knight wouldn’t need it. The chamber would open, and the power of creation would be reachable. Rohm didn’t know what the knight planned to do. But it didn’t matter, not really.
He could feel himself slipping away. He may have failed his duty, but in a way he was relieved. Now he could truly rest. Slowly, his world went dark.
He heard a voice calling to him, and in a light he saw a familiar figure reaching out to him. He reached back and took her hand.
He felt so warm.