Executioner's Song
Prelude: Latter Realms

The great war, a war so grand in size and horrific in brutality it went from pen to paper, to ear to lip for generations. Being retold, and re-written constantly. Glorious it was each time, a war with taller then life Heroes and wickeder then sin Villains. A story of gallant bravery, and unfathomed hope. Yet, as always there is no story more grand then the span or scheme of time. Soon, the greatest of history, becomes legend and myth. Feats become greater, and the Villains much darker then what they truly were. After the span of 4 millennia, even the undying tale of the great war. Faded into the color horizon of forgotten myth.
Yet, there are some who strive never to forget the past. They salvage the deeds, of long ago. Brining them to the light, of the awaiting present. Like ghost waiting to be heard, their words wait on the relics of time.
June Lionheart, descendant of the proud Eleven family of Lionheart. A family of prestige and wealth. Though the name held more respect then all the fortune together. Due to the often heroic and daring deeds of the bloodline. The patriarch of the family, Du’ Alies Lionheart. Single handedly, defeated the ancient fiend Zanous Stimiener. An ancient Vampire, once bent on creating the realms in his image. He had made the timeworn Eternal Nights, the throne of his growing empire. Which began to fester upon the realms, like a wound upon a massive beast. The battle, as many others that had been fought in the realms. Was legendary, one that always held the attention of the neonates and fledglings.

June was destined for grace, or at least that is what her father always said. She would become a great warrior akin to the legendary Valkyrie of old. By her 20th birthday he had already had her forged a stunning sword. The silver blade shone like the heavens, and the diamond that was curved into the shape of the family crest. Held the awe inspiring beauty, of a star. Her name, had even been carefully engraved upon the lacquered hilt.
How crest fallen a father becomes when the apple not only fall far from the tree yet, after it’s decent it rolls down hill. Like many before him he had no sons to pass his legacy on to, So when the answer came it rolled over him like the steadfast hooves of a horse over so much wheat.
Du’Alies, once brilliant smile ebbed away as his arms lowered with his intended gift. She had told him her dream, and it had no substance to feed any illusion he held of her future.

June wanted to be a scholar and historian, as many question began to flood the realms. No records could be found, or had been made. In school, the teachers only knew so much. The rest they told, were all presumptions and theories. It only fueled her fire, the desire to unearth the missing links.
Like being ordained by the heaven’s themselves. June’s calling was pointed out to her, just a little after her 16th birthday. While playing around with friends, on a uncharted area of the maps. The ground under her running feet, gave way with a dreadful groan. The fall dropped her nearly 2 stories, and impact knocked her unconscious. June wasn’t sure how much time past, between the point of her oblivious state.
When she awoke, light poured through the gaping hole which cast her into the pit. Dust dancing along the pale, circular shaped luminance. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light and stagnant air. They suddenly widened and realization lifted her slowly from her knees and to her feet. She had not be cast into a pit, a chasm she feared she may not be able to escape.
June had been delivered, into a pool of answers she so sought. Upon a large oak desk, surrounded by old pictures and weapons. Sat three books, large and well made in their age. Though dust covered them, and the surface which held them. They stood against time, defiant and waiting to be opened.

June could hear her friends their voices racing about in fearful tones. But she couldn’t answer and wouldn’t answer them yet. She stood upon the thrash hole of something, something she knew would lead her in her search. She barely noticed she had been walking, when suddenly she stood before those books. Her hand reached out, and picked up the first. Which was bound in crimson leather, and had gold lettering all about it. Turning it over, she held her breath. The dust, coating her fingers as she did so.
“The Great War.” Stood their, upon the cover. Unreal as it was reality in her hand. Could it be fake, a hoax perhaps. Below it, a name she had heard a scholar mention before. Rested in smaller script. “Written by: Ari Atma.”
“Dear Goddess...” Was all June could mange to get out, the rush of it all was nearly mind boggling. Surely she had been chosen by faith to lead the search.   [ Continue ]

written by Walter Williams