Chapter Text
The kingdom of Alsarir was a safe heaven of sorts. Non-human beings of every kind roamed freely and had happy lives. Cheers and laughter of children could be heard as a young witch created small sparks at their feet. They jumped and ran, weaving through the adults in the market. The sky was bluer than anywhere else in the land, the soft white clouds cast over the sun just right, so that it wasn’t too bright or hot. The mountains to the east loomed high and proud, the very same mountains that guarded them from the aggressions to the east. The breeze tickled their faces and danced with their clothes. The music of laughter and birds chimed through the air. The kingdom of Alsarir was safe, the kingdom of Alsarir was home.
Techno grunted, this was normal, everything was painfully normal. From the scent of oils they used to clean the armor and sharpen the swords to the heat blaring down on the back of his neck. But with all of the normalities surrounding him, techno couldn’t help but feel as if something was off. Like there was a looming sense of foreboding that radiated off of the land. Like the magic within the lands and the wind could sense that someone bad, something atrocious was going to happen.
He tried to brush it off, quite literally rolling his large shoulders. Not that the rest of him wasn’t large, no techno wasn’t a small man in the slightest. Barely even a man at all for that matter. Techno was a halfling, significantly more hated then his pureblooded kin, he was viewed as impure and wrong, a taint or stain on human kind who oh so hated non-human creatures. Being an Orc halfling has its perks, he was stronger than most, he could take heavy hits and hit even harder, his sense of smell and hearing were heighten almost ten fold to that of even an elf. But it also had its down sides- like the fact he was nearly 8 feet tall and couldn’t fit in average houses or clothes, and he needed to eat so much more to sustain himself then he was ever able to order at taverns. That and the stares- everyone would stare at him, wether for his height, his blood red eyes or his position he held as a knight. Not that he couldn’t change that last one.
Yes, Techno, the 8 foot tall orc halfling was a knight, the head knight of Alsarir actually. And he loved his job, he loved being useful and loved having this home. Which made this unwavering anxious feeling settling in his bones all that more troubling. He had never felt unsafe or fearful here, but yet he clenched his sword tight and double checked around every corner. On edge and riddled with an unknown unease, Techno found it hard to focus on the trainees he was supposed to be watching over.
“Techno!” His ears twitched, his head snapping towards the noise. “Are you okay lad?” It was the king, why was he out here in the courtyard? The king seemed to sense his question and answered. “I saw you from the windows in the Rhine room, you’ve been standing here staring for hours....” He grunted in response, not feeling like words would do any good, had he really been here for hours or was the old lout pulling his leg. The old elf sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Techno’s elbow as Techno’s eyebrows scrunched together in thought. “Go home lad, take a break and rest.” He smiled up at the halfling. Techno sighed, no point in questioning the king. Especially not when the king was much like a father figure to him. Taking him in when no one else would, raising him to fight and giving him this home. He owed everything to the old elf, so with another deep grunt he stalked off. His senses on high alert and his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. He stalked through the brick roads and weaved his way threw the crowded market streets. The happy faces of halflings and non-humans that would normally never fail to lift the orc’s spirit now seemed to drag him further into dread. The land knew something, and it was trying to warn him.
Techno reached his home, a small, nearly cave like structure on the outskirts of the main kingdom. Lanterns lit in the late evening light and people talking softly in pairs or triplets as they walked home filled the streets. He opened his door with a shove, everything here was normal too. The large bed in the far corner of the room, covered in large furs and pelts, the armour stands and the table with dirty mugs piling up on it. It was all normal, god he was starting to hate the word normal. He stripped of his armour, placing each item onto his stand, leaving him in his under clothes, a simple white tunic and loose black pants.
He ran a large hand through his curled pink hair and tried again to roll the feeling off his shoulders, and yet again to no avail. He should just take the old louts word for it and get some rest. He’s probably just tired anyways, so with a sigh and a heavy step, he walked himself over to his almost nest like bed and settled himself down onto it. He grunted, rolled and fought falling asleep for a long while before he was finally able to drift off into a forced state of peace.
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A stiff suffocating Darkness, the metallic shimmer of blood, an overpowering scent of smoke, so thick it muffled the sounds of anguish and pain that rung out. The cries for help that went unheard and the rings of swords being swung through the thick air. Dread filled his veins, bile rose in his throat as he shot up. A nightmare? He took deep breath to calm himself, his hands quivering and his back soaked in a cold sweat. No- the scent of smoke was still strong, the air was hazy and the screaming never stoped when he opened his eyes. Panic surged through him, the land had known, the land had tried to warn him.
He shot up, not bothering with shoes, not enough time for armour, he grabbed his sword and ran. As soon as he shoved his way through his door he came to realize just how bad it was. The thick haze in the air did not only come from the raging fires emitting from within the castle walls and the town- no, the haze and heaviness of the world came from the death. Death was everywhere and it weighed heavy on the land. The skies cried out in mourning and the ground seemed to shake with it.
Despite the trembling of his hands and the weakness in his knees his sword was steady and stern in his palm, his eyes sharp and his body ready. He wasn’t going to let his home go without a fight. The enemy was all dressed the same, silver armour shinned so bright it nearly seemed white, purple and white fabric and feathers colored red in the blood of his kin. Rage seemed to seep into his skin and sink in this throat. Something hot sat behind his eyes as he saw red, the enemy was human. Stupid fucking human puritans, they surely came from the east, from beyond those supposed protective mountains. The red seemed to blind him, taking over his senses. He could only see red, he felt like he could hear it and smell it too with how overwhelming it seemed to be. His hand tightened around his sword to the point he felt the wood and metal of the hilt bend and creak within his grasp.
Gods he could feel it rising in his throat, taste it on his tongue. A growl ripped through his chest as he barrelled forward, sword raised above his head. His bare feet hitting the bricks in what seemed to be the force of 100 men. He sliced down human soldier after human soldier, he saw nothing but rage. Bodies fell, his sword painted red, the screams were getting quieter and fewer in between. But he still saw red, the flames rose high, and with each breath he took the flames seemed to breathe with him, pulsating and moving with his spirit and being fuelled by his rage.
He stepped over rubble and barely noticed the flames tickling his calves as he drug his sword across the floor of the palace. Every door seemed to be open, no servants were rushing about, no soul was here. No soul still attached to a body was here. Techno, despite still seeing red, could sense it, the same way he could sense the foreboding feeling in the lands, they were crying. He could feel the dread and anguish of their last moments filtering in the air. Bodies of his kin and the enemy soldiers lined the floors and the walls, the once grey castle now painted red and brown with blood. The doors to the throne room were open, bloodied handprints covered them and the guards lay dead by the entrance. A deep growl emanated in the room, techno barely had enough mind to realize he had made that noise.
His eyes caught on a glimmer of gold amongst the sea of red, no- a clang rung out sharply, louder than any of the screams, as his sword feel from his palms, no, his shoulders fell and the true weight of it all crashed into him at once. His vision cleared only for a different kind of heat to form behind his eyes, NO. He could barely move, taking one shaken and heavy step at a time towards the glimmer of gold.... no- it was the king, dead, throat slit and nearly hidden behind his throne. Techno nearly vomited as bile rose in this throat once more as he reached out a shaky hand to lift the old man’s head.
He was cold, too cold, the kings own blood drenched his clothes and stained his cape. Techno was shaking his eyes burning. He screamed, a pained and angry howl. His home was gone, they fucking took it. His howl of anguish turned into a rumbling growl of sheer rage. His shaking hands, trembled with effort not to just crush the weak elf’s body from rage. He slipped the crown from the Kings head, removing the cloak from his shoulders. He placed them on himself, the blood soaked cloak of his king, and the lost crown of his home on his head, as he picked up the closest thing he’d ever had to a family, the old elf dead weight in his arms. So now, he walked. Sword dragged behind him, crown high on his head, blood covered cap flowing behind him and the body of his king in his arm. The flames roared and rose higher than ever before and with each step the land seemed to cry out.
The few survivors that were left watched from afar on top of hills, clutching their family and what ever items they could have saved. They watched him from afar and listened to the pained song of the wind, as the flames grew stronger, the blood seeped into the land, a survivor walked out of the chaos and into the light, crown on his head and king in his arms. It was the rise of the blood god, and a fall of a king.
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“Be careful with those!” A deep voice bellowed a mixture of anger and amusement in his voice. “Sorry captain.” A smaller and more meek voice called back causing the captain to chuckle. The sky was perfect today, barely a cloud in sight, the air was thick with the moisture of the sea and heat of the sun. The air smelling like fish and salt, whilst not the best scent combination this dirty blonde werewolf came to call this scent home.
Some of his crew on the other hand... “Dream! Why do I have to do this?” The same small voice from earlier whined out. Dream could nearly hear the pout in the boy’s voice. George was one of the newest members of his crew and definitely the newest to the life of a swashbuckling pirate as he had called it. George was a Duke, rich and nearly royalty, and as to why a spoiled kid like him, a human at that, chose to join the crew of the king of the seas and his beastly crew- he really didn’t have an answer to that. But he couldn’t help but chuckle at the brunette, still wearing overly nice and expensive blue clothes that were definitely going to be ruined in the matter of minutes on his ship.
“You’re the one who wanted to be here Georgie.” Another voice called out, causing Dream’s ears to unconsciously twitch towards them. That voice was SapNap, dream’s second in command and best friend, he was high above all of them, doing last minute maintenance on the sails. The dragon halfling wasn’t even trying to hide his teasing tone or his deep chuckle at the expense of the rich boy. George whined again, the noise nearly grating on Dream’s sensitive ears. “Vincent isn’t doing anything!” He complained.
Ah, the actual newest member of his crew, A6D or more commonly known as Vincent. He didn’t like the smell of this guy, though Dream did like the smell of dead fish so maybe he isn’t the best judge of what smells good or not. The point is, Vincent just seemed to edge on everyone, the only reason he was here was for ‘moral support’ for their linguist and navigator Bad, after he felt a little too left out last round trip. So they let him come along and Dream has the pretence to not be upset at the lack of work coming from the man, after all he always seemed to fuck up whatever he touched and left more work for him and Sap. So it was better he wasn’t part of the last minute check up.
“Oi! Captain’ dream!” An unknown voice called out to him, Dream turned around to find this person. “Aiden sent me over to tell you that’s everything is set!” The voice yelled more, Dream smiled wide. “You heard em boys! Get that anchor up, those sails down and let’s get going!” He called out with a little happy whooping howl at the end and he swung down from the rope he was hanging off of to the deck, landing with a thump. “Oh! And one more thing Captain.” The voice called out once again. Dream walked over to the edge of the boat to look down at the dock. “Be weary, the Blood God is out there!” The man waved and smiled with his warning. “Blood god?” Dream found himself muttering in question. “All ready Cap!” Sap yelled, making him shake his head. Probably some superstition or something the locals had, “good work guys!” He smiled, everything was normal.