What's new

Tales of Rivia - Living Legend [Completed]


Rule 34

Lurker
RP Moderator
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
3,877
Reputation score
192
This story is meant as a homage to SNES RPGs like Secret of Mana and most of all Lufia 2. I was inspired to write this by MARDEK RPG on Kongregate. The beginning contains references to my archive-type thread, but they are of little consequence. If you want to read up on them, you can find it here. As always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. Without further ado, I give you the first half of Living Legend, because starting off with the second half is usually inadvisable.

~~~

People around the world rejoice. Parish, Crown Prince of Destruction, and his Unnatural Army were defeated. His flying black tower fortress exploded in a technomagic display of colours and unimaginable heat. His mad plan to unite the Elder Evils within himself has failed, the crash of his fortress into Dalen's capital has been averted. Once again, the world of Rivia is safe.

But a hefty price was paid. Four heroes, the likes of which haven't been born for 1,000 years and the likes of which won't be born for 1,000 more, entered Parish's fortress, defeated him and destroyed his tower. Only two returned: Thanarch of the Eternal Forest, warpriest of the Anshathièph, and Verilee Fights-Like-Lion, huntress of the Veldt Elves. The beautiful young starwitch Helena fell in combat, slain by Parish's own hand. And, more importantly, their leader, the man that brought them all together, the hero of Westwind and liberator of Pareia, Terric Ravenfield, also known as the Red Raven, sacrificed his life to bring an end to the Crown Prince of Destruction. The Red Raven, who went from a small-time blacksmith's apprentice to the finest swordsman in the Western Kingdoms, failed to spread his wings in time.

Or so it seems.

~~~

Falling, falling at the speed of a shooting star. Before his eye, Parish himself. With hair like wildfire and eyes like glaciers. As beautiful as a sunset and as horrible as the screams of a thousand dying children. A vicious snarl parts the Prince's face as he hits him with his fists, clad in armor so black it swallows the light. Again and again he is hit. It makes no difference to him. The battle is over. His eye wanders down to regard his hands, firmly clutching the hilt of the sword buried in Parish's chest. And then a little to the side to stare at the ground coming closer at ridiculous speed. Quite soon this would be over. He closes his eye and starts to pour his entire life into the one spell he knows. And as the Blade of Fire sears Parish's flesh, burns him from the inside out, a serene smile shows on his own face.

Then, no more falling.


He awakens. Pain. A thousand cuts and bruises on his skin. Pain. Something cool runs over his forehead. Pain. He tries to turn away. Pain.

“Don't move.”

But there is nowhere to move to anyway. The agony is everywhere, it is omnipotent, a cruel god out for petty revenge. His lips twitch. Pain. Is this his purgatory, the cleansing of his sins before he is allowed at the Divine Court?

Who is this woman, tormenting him by cleaning his wounds? A word flickers through his mind. A face. He tries to open his eye. Pain. He tries to whisper her name. Pain.

“No, my hero, I'm not her. Try to rest a while longer, you will need all your strength to heal.” To heal? But what for? The Crown Prince of Destruction is defeated. Thanarch and Lion made it out. Oh Gods, give that they made it out. If not, his sacrifice, his agony, it would all be in vain.

But isn't it already? The woman called him a hero. As the others and him rose towards the tower, the world stood as one and looked after them. Dead, he's a hero. A legend, even. Alive, though? What is there left? Parish's defeat was the apex of his life, his sacrifice the greatest deed he ever did. His return into the world of the living would not only lessen his own glory, it would lessen the death of Helena as well. A tear rolls down his cheek. Pain.

~~~

He awakens. He can't tell how many days he's been lying there, wherever there is, but this time he feels less agony than before. The lid of his one remaining eye flutters, and very slowly it opens. The room is darkened, thankfully, because even the dim light burns after the sheltering blackness inside of his head. Slowly the green orb of his eye wanders around. There is very little to see. It's a plain stone cabin, sparsely decorated. The open door shows a view of a conifer forest. He has seen that forest before, but the name escapes him.

There she is, entering through the door with another bundle of herbs to cure his wounds with. Aidleaves, he guesses. Their healing powers are quite potent. If she has been treating him with them all that time, the damage done to his body must have been unimaginable for him to still be in this bedridden state. She hasn't given up on him, but why? He's dead to the world, and it's better that way.

If he'd care about it, he would notice she's quite beautiful. Blonde waves of hair, intense blue eyes, skin as creamy and pure as milk. She still has all her teeth, which he can see as she smiles at him and comes over. “Finally able to open your eye, yes? That's good, good. You were taking your time, yes?” She pulls the sheet off him, and a groan builds somewhere in his lungs, only to die halfway up his throat. Pain.

There's not a patch of unscathed skin on his entire body. Everything is cut, burned away or bruised. From his point of view he can see where Parish's enormous flanged mace broke his arm, shortly before their descent. The bone has been skilfully readjusted, but the wound where the bone broke out of his body is still visible. “I fixed that up. Don't want it to be crooked, yes?” While he thinks, she works. Her slender hands exchange the bandages with the expertise of a healer. All that time she talks to him in her cute little accent and asks him questions that are none. Strangely, he is not annoyed the least. With a quiet sigh, he eventually drifts off, her voice calming like the patter of rain.

~~~

The Unnatural towers over the body of the master blacksmith. He, still almost a child, clutches the heavy iron sword with all his strength. The Unnatural turns towards him, the numerous bladed appendages protruding from its chest constantly twitching and rubbing against each other like an insect trying to clean its legs. The man within the harness has long since passed away, and still he is driven forward by the twisted machinery. One of the man's eyes is replaced by an array of lenses, wired to a box at the back of his head. He swallows and backs up further until he can feel the warm stone wall of the forge in his back. This thing is going to kill him, he just knows it. As the Unnatural closes in, tears start to flow, leaving streaks in his sooty face.

He awakens. And sits before he knows how. Shocked, he prepares to cry out in agony, only to find that there is none. He hasn't thought back to that day in years, mostly because it's not a fond memory. The Unnatural defeated him and left him for dead. By the time he woke up again, the Unnatural Army had murdered half the village.

He notices that he has balled his fist. A cut on his hand has opened up and bleeds onto the sheets. His saviour is nowhere to be seen, but there's a bundle of aidleaves on the table over there. With a groan, he turns and plants his feet on the floor.
An hour later, she finds him sitting at the table – shaking and sweaty, but sitting there anyway. She crosses her arms and smiles. “That's good. Now that you found the strength to get up, we can finally start to put you to work, yes?”

~~~

With unbridled fury he throws the axe across the small clearing that accommodates Grecia's cabin. It gets stuck in one of the pines, the shaft vibrating from the raw force, and he stares at it, concentrates all his hate and loathing on it. Damnit, he's sick of splitting wood. Damnit, he's sick of doing everything around here. What for? What should he get healthy and strong for? The world doesn't need a hero anymore! The great evil has been defeated. No one needs a hero in a time of piece. No one. Unless...

A soft hand wraps around his biceps, trembling with barely suppressed bloodlust, and he closes his eyes. Grecia. He can smell the herbs she worked with. A smell of earth and vitality. Her voice sounds amused. “Maybe this isn't what you were cut out for. True. But maybe, just maybe, I can provide you with something that suits your tastes more, yes?”

~~~

He stares into the room, dumbfounded. Out of all the things he expected, this was not one of them. She chuckles and gives him a little push inside. “Go ahead. It hasn't seen any use since my father died.” And indeed, the hammers and tongs, the anvil and furnace have all gathered a thick layer of dust. Well, not all of it. With raised eyebrows he regards the plain wooden chests in the back of the forge (for that is what this place is) and the trail of fresh footprints that lead to them. He turns to face her, and she clears her throat in embarrassment. “There... there's been an abundance of scrap metal recently. The tower practically rained down on this forest, yes?” He gives her a long look before shrugging. The metal that Parish used was of the highest quality, true. Maybe, he muses as he goes to open one of the boxes, it can be used for something-

He literally jumps as he sees what's inside the box. Spiked pauldrons, cruel-looking gauntlets and a cuirass depicting a Cerberus standing on his hind legs – the so-called “rampant attitude” - in horrible detail. The rampant Cerberus is, or rather was, the heraldic animal of the Prince. It's not surprising to find it on this armour. After all, it's Parish's own. His reaction earns him another chuckle from Grecia. “Don't be silly. It's not like he's still inside of it, yes? He's well and truly dead, I can assure you.”

It's truly foolish to be scared of a piece of armour. This is what he tells himself over and over as he reaches out to touch the cuirass. Ironically, he notes, his sword has pierced both the Cerberus and Parish right through the heart, if either of them ever had one. Something else in the chest catches his attention – a glint of gold within the pitch black darkness. A smile parts his face, quickly making room for a mournful expression as he pulls out the bent and broken remains of Yngvarr, the legendary blade of the First King. It withstood the ages without a dent, it slew Parish, but not even Yngvarr could survive a fall like this. Not only that, but it must have been the first thing to hit the ground, taking both his own weight and the one of Parish on its tip. By himself he suspects that it sacrificed its own power to safe his life. With a frown he reaches up and touches the jagged scars that run over his left eye socket. It didn't do him much good, now did it? He can remember Parish digging into his flesh with those accursed gauntlets... With a quiet curse he drops the golden hilt back into the pile of scraps.

“I really am sorry about your eye.” It's not the first time she said that, and it's not the first time he answers with a grunt. Unsurprisingly, he spots his own armor in the box as well, the red lacquered cuirass with the bird motif. On its chest the coat of arms he chose for himself, the rising black raven. Just like everything else in the chest, it's bent out of shape by the impact. With a sigh he closes the box and turns towards her. “I can use this,” he says quietly. “But I need some time to figure out what for.” She raises an eyebrow. His voice is a rare sound indeed. “Well, you either have to be quick or take your time, yes? Winter is near. Hesitate to long, and you will be trapped here with me.” The look out of his eye, as green as the light deep inside the forest, gives her a sudden tingle. “I can imagine worse fates,” he replies.
 
Last edited:

Copper

Lurker
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
8,967
Reputation score
397
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn]

Not overly familiar with the source material, but the way you tell it, it doesn't matter. There's enough exposition to have it make sense without taking up too much of the story itself. Nice one, Rule. Will be watching this one, too, methinks.

Also, the only typo I caught... "Hesitate to long, and you will be trapped here with me.” - Should be "Hesitate *too* long."
 
OP
Rule 34

Rule 34

Lurker
RP Moderator
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
3,877
Reputation score
192
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn]

Thanks, and you're right. I meant to write it in a way that the original story is not necessary to understand the current one. There is no source material to be familiar with, by the way - the world and the races therein aren't taken from a specific game. I just imagine you could have found them in an RPG of the early 90s.

At the moment this is somewhat of an exercise for me. Can I write a story that is driven mostly by characters and not by plot? Can I make the decisions made by the main character believable?

I initially intended to keep this story in two parts. But maybe there's potential for more. Of course, I wanted to keep this short because I have a horrible track record when it comes to finishing stories I started, so there's no guaranty. And I do need constant feedback for my stories, otherwise I quickly lose interest in continuing them.
 

Copper

Lurker
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
8,967
Reputation score
397
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn]

Well, it's an interesting concept, to be sure. And the only reason I mentioned source material is your reference to the games and your other post there, but I'd say you set out to accomplish that aspect of it, at any rate. Have to see about more when the second part goes up, then, I suppose *chuckles* Keep up the good work.
 
OP
Rule 34

Rule 34

Lurker
RP Moderator
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
3,877
Reputation score
192
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn]

So, here's the second half of it - it's considerably shorter than the first one, but I think this is precisely how long this story has to be. I won't continue it, not this part of the timeline at least. Maybe one day I'll revisit this universe, but this story stands pretty well by itself, I figure. So here it is: The second part of Living Legend.

~~~

The whole ordeal seems unnatural to him. It was only yesterday that he returned to his hometown, scarred by the oppression through the Unnatural Army. And it was only yesterday that his group defeated their outlandish enormous steel centaur... thing. That scientist that allied himself with the Unnatural Army rattled of it's name before teleporting away. Not that it did him any good. They captured him within the same day.

How could all of this only happen yesterday? Right now he's standing in front of the town hall of Westwind – of his hometown – and the mayor is giving a rousing speech. He can't help but look around. Grace of the Divines, he knows each and every single one of them. There's Soren, the shopkeeper that sold him way too much candy when he was young. And Tallia, the first girl he ever had a crush on. She's looking at him with a glow in her eyes. He doesn't think she would reject him now. And there... his heart feels strange. Warm and soft, like it's about to melt. Right there in the front row stands his mother, the only family he has ever known, with tears of joy in her eyes. Overwhelmed, he reaches out and grasps Helena's hand firmly in his. The starwitch turns and gives him a loving smile.


She awakens. He is no longer lying next to her. A wet spot on the pillow they shared shows her he cried in his sleep. Again. While awake, he never shows a sign of sorrow, as a matter of fact, he barely shows any emotion at all. But at night the barriers he contains his anguish in break. In his sleep he twists and turns, twitches and groans, he whispers Helena's name. And he cries. With all her heart she wants to help this man, this hero that fell from the sky, but she can't. Not only has he lost his love, he has also lost his purpose. And if he doesn't find a new one soon, so she fears, he will fall on the very sword he's forging behind her home.

~~~

He works with a grim determination. Day after day he hopes that in the evening he will be too tired to dream. And far too often he is proven wrong. At least he finds a worthy challenge in the Nox Steel, the pitch black material of Parish's armour. Never before has he forged a material more stubborn, more unyielding. To make matters worse, it utterly refuses to fuse with any other steel. He is lucky he is of smaller stature than Parish, or he would run out of Nox Steel quickly.
Forming just the blade has taken him until the beginning of winter. To make an entire suit of armour out of it, as he intends to, will certainly keep him in the forge until spring. At least it's warm in here, he muses as he wipes sweat and grime off his forehead. He has decided to let his blond hair and beard grow out over the winter. It will keep him warm when hunting and gathering wood... and if he happens over anybody he knows, it's less likely they will recognize him.

His musings are interrupted by Grecia entering the forge. With an inward grunt he interrupts his work and puts his plain cloth shirt back on. She has that look in her eyes again. A longing look. He suspects she loves him... but over the months, he has found that he can't give her what she wants. Oh, he has bedded her – or rather, she has bedded him. Was it an attempt to relieve him from his grief? Was she trying to get closer to him? The mere longing for a man? He does not know why, and he does not allow himself to care. Deep inside they both know that he's not going to stay. This is not the life he is cut out for. The occasional fight against a monster trying to steal from his traps is no substitute for the battles he fought and hopes to fight again. The fact that he was able to kill most of them with his bare hands is further proof to the lack of a challenge. No, men like him either die young – or never.

“I bet you have not even had breakfast yet, yes?” she quips as she enters the forge fully and closes the door behind her. She is right – the dream has driven him straight out of bed and into the forge. He put every bit of pain, every bit of despair into the hammer blows that finally managed to bring the blade into the form he desires. The forging is done – now the weapon needs to be fitted with a guard and a hilt.

She opens her cloak to reveal a basket. The delightful smell of toast mingles with the aroma of the rabbit stew they had last evening. His mouth begins to water, just as his stomach unleashes a growl worthy of a Millennial Dragon. She hears, of course, and with a laugh she puts the pot with stew and the basket with toast onto the work bench. As he eats hungrily, dunking the toast into the stew and picking up bits of meat with it, his eyes follow her as she takes a look at his handiwork. Maybe – maybe he could take her with him. But no, he negates himself as he watches her trying to pick up the blade and failing miserably. She is about as much a fighter as he is a homemaker. “Be careful. It may not be sharp, but it is heavy enough to break your leg,” he informs her as she is about to go for a second try. She shoots him a look, but leaves the black blade be.

~~~

As he raises the finished sword into the air, a feeling of glory and dread dawns upon him. Truly this must be the most terrifying weapon ever forged. Ordinarily, the broad two-edged blade would be far too heavy for a sword this long, but the unique properties of the Nox steel together with the fuller allow him to lift it with ease. As such, just the blade has a length of four feet and sports a hilt allowing for two-handed wielding, if desired. Some call this kind of weapon a bastard sword, but he couldn't think of a more thoroughbred blade.
The entire blade is skilfully emblazoned with an intricate vine-like design, depictions of gruesome splendor woven into it. The embellishments were carved into the blade and painted with a silver paste to make them more visible. At least the Nox Steel was gracious enough to let itself be painted. The process added more than two weeks of work, but the effect is more than worth it in his mind. He regards the very last engraving, the one closest to the tip, with fury and satisfaction. It depicts two men in free fall – one of them has a sword rammed through the other.

He forewent a cross-guard in favour of rows of hooks, three on each side of the blade, pointed away from the wielder to catch an enemy's sword. They give the weapon an outlandish, sinister look – which is just what he wanted. Directly underneath the hooks, where the blade passes into the hilt, he fashioned a pair of steel raven wings clutching the blade tightly. The hilt itself is fashioned out of ebony, polished patiently to bring out the dark grey grain. The pommel is made from steel and consists out of four raven heads, each pointing in a different direction. Every one of them has a different pair of jewels for eyes – they are one of the few items that survived his fall unscathed.

Crunching snow alerts him of her nearing presence. Quickly he wraps the blade in a tarp and lies it down on the work bench just as she enters. No, this weapon is not for her to be seen. As she enters, he looks down at the other blade he worked on – Yngvarr. The sword itself has been reforged quite successfully, and he stayed true to the stern, frugal simplicity of its design, but... “There is no life in it,” he sighs. “I could forge it another thousand times, but nothing can bring back that...” His voice trails off as he raises his eye to look at her. Something about her seems changed, but he can't quite put his finger on it. There is a certain glow about her, a vibrancy she hasn't had before. A big smile parts her face as she crosses her hands before her stomach. “I have big news,” she exclaims.

~~~

His daddy is angry again. He drank from the strange juice that tastes so bad (he tried it once, and daddy got angry at him) and now he's yelling at Mommy. How he despises her body, how he hates her guts. Daddy smashes the bottle against the wall, and a big shard lands directly next to himself, cowering in the corner with tears in his eyes. Daddy screams how he was free and happy until she came along, until she just had to get pregnant and bind him down. How he was going to be big, a knight that the whole world knows. But no, he has to be around so his useless wife and his failure of a son have something to eat.

Suddenly Daddy grabs Mommy and throws her on the bed. This at least she's good for, he yells as he undoes his belt. She pleads, please no, Terric is right there. He slaps her hard across the face and climbs on top of her. She's going to spread these legs, or else he is going to beat her black and blue. Her cries die down to a whimper, and he grins.

And his son picks up the big glass shard.


He awakens to the clinging grasp of damp sheets, the moisture of this springtime night thick in the air. He awakens and immediately knows he has to go. The dream could not have been clearer. She is cuddled against him, her belly visibly distended by her pregnancy. He knows he will stay if he's still around when his son is born. Stay and grow to hate her. And he will end up with a glass shard poking out of his neck, his blood spraying over her face.

It doesn't take him long to quietly pack the few things he still owns. He tells himself that the man he used to be is still lying there in bed with her, happy and content. He tells himself that if things had come differently, he would do the right thing. As it is, however, he thinks as he looks down at her and her unborn child, this is a bond he has to cut. Tears run down his right cheek as he turns his back and sneaks away into the night like a thief. He feels like a coward.

It is the first of his villainous deeds, and maybe the smallest one as he sets out to become the force of evil that this world needs – a villain so great that kings will tremble before him. A cold, unfeeling tyrant with a heart unable to love.

Little does he know that Yngvarr, left behind in the forge, will serve his son as his very own glass shard one day.
 

Copper

Lurker
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
8,967
Reputation score
397
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn] [Completed]

*smiles* Nice, Rule. Very nice.
 
OP
Rule 34

Rule 34

Lurker
RP Moderator
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
3,877
Reputation score
192
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn] [Completed]

Yeah, I think so too. Unfortunately, nobody else seems to give a shit. Maybe I should remove the no porn tag.
 

DeMatt

Lurker
Joined
Nov 16, 2008
Messages
2,385
Reputation score
47
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn] [Completed]

Ehhh... I don't really have any feedback to give.

It's got a real Lufia-esque vibe to it, from my point of view. Especially the setup - it seems almost precisely the setup to Lufia 1. I admit I haven't played through Lufia 1, to see what happens to Maxim after the intro.

I'm a little confused by the last dream sequence... is it supposed to be a memory, or a premonition? The only name given doesn't really help.
 

Copper

Lurker
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
8,967
Reputation score
397
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn] [Completed]

Premonition, though it's from his unborn son's POV. I was a little confused at first, myself, thinking it was a memory but reading on, it becomes clearer. Heck, the paragraph immediately after the dream kind of explains it.
 
OP
Rule 34

Rule 34

Lurker
RP Moderator
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
3,877
Reputation score
192
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn] [Completed]

Actually no, it's a memory. I had the feeling that the style I chose - using next to no names - might confuse people. But then again it's only a man and a woman for the most part, so names were largely unnecessary. Terric IS the main character (it's somewhere in the first half, I swear!) and in his dream he relives that moment. The dream is just the straw that broke the camel's back.

Thanks for the feedback, you two.
 

Copper

Lurker
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
8,967
Reputation score
397
Re: Living Legend [Fantasy] [No Porn] [Completed]

Ah, apologies for the assumption, then. Still, I like the circular (man, that doesn't look spelled right. Anyway...) nature of the story. Again, paying homage to the 'source' material in that you find that often happens in the old-school games like that. Fricking...don't get me started on Dragon Warrior 3...

Again, well done.
 

Antithetical Inquiry

Matriarch
Staff member
Administrator
Joined
Dec 2, 2008
Messages
350
Reputation score
47
Re: Tales of Rivia - Living Legend [Completed]

I actually didn't see the ending coming. but it played right into my favorite theme; the hero becoming the villain. However, I think you gave away too much by making the connection to the other sword left behind. Reader's are entertained by making their own assumptions, that's why a good balance of telling and hinting make the best stories. Your first post had too much art into it; it read like a poem. You tightened up in the second part, and read much more smoothly. This would be a good prologue for the son's story, but try to keep the identity of the big bad guy a secret?
 
OP
Rule 34

Rule 34

Lurker
RP Moderator
Joined
Nov 10, 2008
Messages
3,877
Reputation score
192
Re: Tales of Rivia - Living Legend [Completed]

Well yeah, I kind of faced the same problem when I tried to write a follow up to this. How to keep the story suspenseful when the identity of the arch-enemy is already known? When his very fate is practically determined?

Also, I deliberately tried to be artsy with the first part and actually disliked the second part for being more tight. I think I get where you're coming from, though.
Anyway, now that the universe is somewhat set up, I could venture out a bit, disclose the fate of other characters. Maybe that would be interesting.

EDIT: I just found a solution for the above-mentioned problem, and it's bloody brilliant if I do say so myself.
 
Last edited:

Antithetical Inquiry

Matriarch
Staff member
Administrator
Joined
Dec 2, 2008
Messages
350
Reputation score
47
Re: Tales of Rivia - Living Legend [Completed]

Just because the arch-villain is named, doesn't mean he can be identified, especially as years go on.

My own writing tends to get very poetic, but it reminds me of pretentious works in earlier centuries.
 
Top