Amidst the shadows of a dense forest, a group of wytches lay lifeless. A scouting party caught in the act. One of them, barely clinging onto life, struggled to crawl away. But a cold metal gauntlet halted her in her tracks. The hand slowly wrapped around the nape of her neck and lifted her off the ground. An eerily calm voice erupted behind her. The wytch had no choice but to listen.   “…I could not understand it at first. A group of what I assumed were people attacking us randomly, inflicting pain, making us grieve, inciting hatred, and forcing us to shed tears. Who would perpetrate such atrocities? Who would take the lives of fathers, mothers…and children?”    The grip tightened on the last word.   “And then it dawned on me. These assaults were not the work of people. They were carried out by savage animals. Mongrels feasting on the devastation they brought upon innocent lives...but did you truly believe your feast would go unnoticed?”    The hand abruptly jerked the wytch toward the fallen. She sensed two green eyes burrowing into the side of her face. She dared not speak.   “…I will admit. You caught us off guard during the initial onslaughts. You seized our king, you laid waste to a part of Oakhold, Plains below! You created widespread panic throughout Wood’s Edge!…but your weakness is beginning to show. You failed to destroy Stag-Point, one of your lairs was uncovered and numerous of your pathetic sisters were eliminated, and should I even mention the utter disaster your little group faced at Haez?”   The wytch found herself drawn closer to one of her fallen sisters as the grip on her tightened further.   "You are all so painfully…mortal. It’s truly tragic that you believe you are not. That you think you can evade punishment. That you can evade death…judgment…”   Beads of sweat formed on the wytch's brown as her gaze shot upward. She saw nothing but a shrouded face staring back. Only two emerald eyes visible through the shadows. It was then that she realized the man had made his decision long ago.   “Meeting the gaze of your executioner is a bold move, wytch. Yet, you have been considerate enough to allow me to speak uninterrupted. You did not summon your thralls or erect a barrier while I spoke…perhaps you realized I would not listen. And perhaps you understood that all your efforts would ultimately be futile. It also appears that you realize your death is imminent, and for that, I shall cease my mental torment upon you and offer you a quick and merciful demise. May your sisters be as silent as you when their time comes. For yelping beasts are harder to kill.”   A surge of lightning burst forth from the clearing as those final words were spoken. It reverberated and resonated throughout the lands. No further words followed, no bodies remained. The clearing was left empty. Except for the gentle whisper of the winds and the smoldering ash it carried away.

It began with a birth. It was the arrival of a child whose possibilities were limitless. He was the offspring of a farmer and a doctor. To many, their lives seemed trivial, just another family among the others. Yet, when their son came into existence, focus started to shift toward them, as if sensing something remarkable. The infant's eyes were a vivid green, a common trait among his people who shared that color, but there was something more to it…a radiant glow. It was peculiar. Doctors and nurses found it hard to hold him for long, as their hands began to tremble and go numb, prompting them to leave him close to his mother, who was unaffected by his presence. Still, he continued to wail and scream intensely, that is until his father arrived. The child gazed into his father's deep blue eyes, receiving a warm greeting in return to his intense emerald-green gaze. After a brief moment of silence, the child erupted into soft laughter, and the luminous glow in his eyes faded, and the bright green transformed into a bright blue. Many years would go by, and the child would grow up completely unaware of his unusual birth. His parents rarely discussed it with him since he was usually occupied with his responsibilities. That changed when he ultimately became a knight. His strength and persistence were unmatched, making him stand out among his peers. While many faltered, he remained firm, and those who wavered found their resolve bolstered in his presence. As time went on, the boy became intertwined with a spirit, a former member of his people. The spirit anticipated anger and resentment from the boy, but such feelings never materialized, and soon the spirit became a part of the boy's being, his other half. They existed in harmony for a while, until tragedy struck. The boy's father passed away, his king was lost, and his home was destroyed. All were victims of an assault by the coven. The boy stood strong but began to descend into turmoil. The once bright green hue of his eyes started to resurface, and with the influence of the spirit within him, this change accelerated. His rage towards the coven that had shattered his heart grew and intensified, along with his unnatural abilities. The boy suppressed his emotions for as long as possible, but when his mentor, his ally, and his other half was chased away, his emotions burst forth along with the strength he had kept inside. Despite this, he still held no grudges against anyone except for the coven. But still, he needed time to reflect, he needed time with his people. Thus, the boy founded Stag-Point and raised the Stag banner. The boy…was called Richard D Lion.    “…A defender, a hero, a leader, the blade, and the law! That is what I strive to be and who I intend to become! When I take my final breath and deliver my last strike, I will find peace in knowing that I will do so with steadfast conviction in my heart! I urge all of you now to not just listen to my words but instead observe my deeds! Allow me to prove that I am our father’s true protector! Let me demonstrate that you can place your trust and rely on me! Allow me to show you why I am the Lion!” - Richard Don’el Lion

The airship docked at the clocktower at its customary hour. However, the scene was unexpected. Instead of the usual solitary Emerald scholars in their copper masks, they were accompanied by tall, strong men. Many of these men stood over six feet tall and had an intimidating presence, with scars adorning their faces and bodies. Yet, one distinct characteristic made it clear who they were: their striking emerald green eyes. In Grastagg, onlookers gazed up in surprise, a reaction that was mirrored by many residents of Stag-Point, except for two individuals who appeared unfazed by the turn of events—Richard and Faerl—as they walked down the street toward the clocktower. Faerl would hold their head thoughtfully, chin cupped in their right hand while their left arm supported their elbow, then remarked, “Hmm... A bit earlier than we were expecting, isn’t it? Them arriving, I mean.” They carried only a minor worry that everything might not be ready for their arrival but felt confident that all would turn out well. Richard would flash a broad grin, hands clasped behind his back as he looked at Faerl. “You know what they say, Faerl! The early bird gets the worm! And the tardy bird gets the beak!” He would shift his focus to the men beginning their descent from the clock tower, expanding on his words as they navigated down the ladder. “These are the strongest recruits Wood’s Edge could offer! These fine gentlemen are eager to join Stag-Point after the recent incident in Oakhold! They were displeased by their inability to assist! Oh! And besides—” he would turn to Faerl, scratching his head in an awkward manner, “there have been some unpleasant stories circulating about where these honorable men come from! Quite the scandalous tales, I must add! They want to put an end to those lies and prove that the people of Wood’s Edge are more than just outlandish rumors—oh, here they come now!” Faerl would slightly adjust the angle of their head for a better view of Richard from the side, then lift an eyebrow in curiosity. "...I feel gladdened, then, that I have no idea what those rumors are..." They would then reposition their stance, placing their hand on their hips while shifting their weight to one side, awaiting Richard to greet the newcomers. The men approached the duo, appearing rugged and serious. One extended a hand towards Richard, while another nudged his companion who lost focus while offering a slight bow to the young Richard. "Forgivd us...Lion. We hail from a place where respect is scarce. We intend no disrespect toward you." Richard chuckled softly to himself and grasped the man’s hand, providing an unexpectedly firm handshake. The man recoiled slightly from the strength of the young Lion’s grip, who declared, "No need for such formalities here! If you wish to bow, then the Queen's palace is just over yonder! She’s the one that deserves that honor, not me! View me as you wish! If it comforts you to consider me your leader, then feel free! If you would rather see me as a friend, I welcome that as well!" The bowing man gradually lifted his head, and those behind him followed suit, meeting Richard’s piercing gaze framed by his emerald eyes. There was something within them…compassion, prosperity, serenity, and pure kindness. His presence provided a sense of comfort to the men… yet there lingered a subtle indication of his overwhelming power. Many of the men who had started to whisper and mock the young Lion in silence soon fell absolutely quiet, for when Richard cast his gaze in their direction, they envisioned things…his rapier piercing deeply against their throat, others felt the press of his dagger against their abdomens...with some experiencing a chill down their spines, as if the young Lion was ready to pounce on anyone who dared to cause trouble within the city. Mockery transformed into fear and that fear morphed into pure respect. Faerl glanced over, finding that one remark about the queen amusing, even though he had never met her personally. Faerl stifled a laugh before clearing his throat. He leaned slightly forward, covering his smile with his fist and apologizing, “Apologies. Please, carry on.” Richard shifted his focus to Faerl and offered a half smirk before swiftly pulling him in close, “Ah! How could I forget! This is my brother, Faerl! He has arranged the accommodations for your stay! He has worked tirelessly to ensure each and every one of you is comfortably settled here!” The man at the front turned his head slightly, placing his hands on his hips, “Forgive me, but…is that truly your brother?” Richard quickly nodded his head up and down, “Indeed!” Faerl stumbled slightly but quickly regained his balance by moving closer to Richard. He draped an arm over Richard's shoulder and flashed a cheeky grin, replying, "Oh? Don’t you know a pair of Blood Brothers when you see one?" He chuckled more heartily, his wide smile causing his eyes to squint a little. "I hadn’t anticipated you all to be so tall… I hope the beds are comfortable…” he called out louder. “Please let me know if any adjustments need to be made, alright?" The men’s eyes widened, and they nodded in agreement, saying, “O-of course, Faerl!” Then they turned to Richard. “Now! I must ask! Are all of you ready to make a name for yourselves? You are the finest of the finest! The strongest of the strong! You are the blades of our father! I want to know if you’re prepared to represent not just Stag-Point! Not just the plains! Not merely the crown! But Planu himself! I want to know if you all possess the determination to face challenges head-on!” The men stood tall, resembling genuine giants, while the citizens in the town square looked on with curiosity, eagerly waiting for a reply. The man at the front spoke calmly, avoiding Richard’s gaze as one might do with a commanding general. “We are the Blades of the Father, Blades of the Stag Brazon, Blades of The Plains, and Blades of you, the Lion.” The man kept his gaze upwards until a loud crunch suddenly drew his attention back down, revealing Richard munching on an apple and offering one to him. “Mmm mmm mmh! That’s what I like to hear! Faerl will now escort you to your quarters! Here’s a juicy apple for the journey!” With that the onlookers began to clap loudly for the new protectors of the city as the newly found enforcers were escorted to their barracks.

The people of Grastagg stared in awe at the sky, unable to grasp the sight of the machine whirling overhead, it was no simple air balloon, but something greater, faster, and more meticulous. Farmers abandoned their tools and hurried toward it, while children paused their games, captivated with child-like wonder. Guards dashed from the city gates, and although the enormous, whirring contraption was quite the oddity, it showed no signs of hostility. One guard pulled out a spyglass to get a better look and noticed men in emerald green robes with copper masks waving down at them, signaling their friendliness. The machine gradually continued its path until it finally settled near a clock tower within the town of Stag-Point. Originally, some found it strange that someone from Oakhold chose to form land midway between Grastagg and Westwatch, but once shops sprang up and food was supplied, the townsfolk quickly lost their concern. The residents of Oakhold affectionately referred to the owner of Stag-Point as “The Cub,” but to anyone else, he was simply “Richard D Lion”. Citizens continued to stare in bewilderment as Richard assisted the robed figures in transporting supplies into the clock tower, with one of them removing his copper mask, revealing an aged man with lime green eyes who smiled and conversed with the young Lion before donning his mask again. He bowed to Richard before boarding the vessel he had arrived in, and just as swiftly as it had come, it departed once more. Guards rushed outside, swiftly moving into the town, but some halted, dropping their weapons while others took off their helmets to get a clearer view of what they were witnessing. Shops designed in Emeraldite style emitted steam from their sides, cogs spinning in place, and the clock tower overhead clicking occasionally. Citizens of diverse races and creeds spoke with one another, working with one another to advance the town at an impressive pace. One of the Grastagg guards turned to his companion and whispered, “W-was it like this last week?” The other guard began to reply but was abruptly interrupted by a booming voice emanating from the summit of the clock tower, resonating with the power of the storms. “Citizens of Grastagg and or Westwatch!” it announced, sounding youthful and graceful. “I hope that did not cause any worry! Please be assured that what you witnessed was simply the product of innovation and progress! Those who pilot such a magnificent machine are a blessing from our father! They provide us with numerous supplies!” The voice raised in volume, filled with optimism, “And if worries still persist! Just remember! Even in his slumber, the six great eyes of Planu watches over us all! He shines upon us! And with that, I say! That the Steppes shall shine! Forevermore!” The voice faded as the gentle ticking of machinery became the only sound, before applause erupted in the town…in that moment Stag-Point had been recognized, not just as a town, but something greater.

A damaged blade scrapes across a worn landscape, a tattered cape trailing behind it, the sound of clashing armor echoes along with the scraping of the blade. "Keep...going…”, a solitary voice echoes in the silence, youthful yet rough and weary. The clinking of armor fills the air once more as a knight falls to his knees, remaining silent in utter darkness. He is unaware of his location, unfamiliar with the realm he sits upon. The air is cold and stagnant, with only his muted coughs providing him company. His gauntlets rise to press against what remains of his helm, now just merely shattered steel. He lifts it and tosses it aside, watching it roll and roll until it falls into the void beneath him. He begins to cough repeatedly and tries to stand, only to collapse again. He looks to his side and sees blood—too much blood. He wobbles his head as he hears a loud crash nearby, and there, he finally sees it, the creature that had been chasing him relentlessly since his arrival. It had no true shape, merely a dark silhouette with piercing white eyes and a pearl floating where its heart should be. Its size was enormous, growing even larger as it spread its wings across the dark sky. It spoke in a harsh tone, “Son of the Emerald betrayers!" Its voice pierced the ears of the disheveled knight, who quickly covered them as the unnatural formation beneath him shifted and turned. “I have found you once more, and I will find you forevermore. Halt and succumb to your wounds! Grant me the privilege of witnessing the life of a green thief being extinguished before me!" The knight swayed his head, his patience wearing thin. "I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me leave this realm!” The creature’s white eyes shifted upward, and a loud droning sound began to emanate from it, followed by the blaring of a horn. It was laughing... The knight once again covered his ears as his eyes became bloodshot, the blood on his side oozing more profusely. “SILENCE! I—SHUT UP!" the knight shouted at the creature, which glared back at him. “You’re right, silence is needed...if you refuse to fall before me, then I will simply force you to do so." The creature flapped its dark wings across the sky and latched onto his shoulders, applying immense pressure, it stared at the knight while lifting him off the ground. "As you bleed! I will ensure your final thoughts are nothing but pure darkness! You will witness the endless realm that our lord was condemned to see! Your death will not be quick, and peace will never find you! Emerald thief!" The knight swayed back and forth, attempting to jam his broken blade into the creature's leg, but it passed right through. He looked over as he was slowly being pulled toward the edge of the landmass. Thinking quickly, he shot his gauntlet upward, grabbing the pearl located on the beast's chest. The creature writhed and screamed as the pearl cracked under the pressure, and the knight shouted back, "I’ve had enough of you! Return to your vile lord! Tell him you have failed, beast!" Lightning crackled softly as he crushed the pearl, screams reverberated through the realm as dark powder gently settled on the bloodied knight, who now had begun falling…He quickly turned around, grasped the nearest edge, and pulled himself up with a groan. He crawled back onto solid ground and sat motionless, staring at his bloodied and darkened gauntlets. The moment was abruptly interrupted as two eyes emerged from the shadows, followed by another pair, and then another, and yet another. He jolted up, taking his chipped blade, turning his head to every set of eyes that watched him intently, and began breathing heavily as he adjusted his posture and grip. He spoke with nothing but pure hatred, “You pathetic fools are surrounding a Lion…I hope you know this.”