Post by Hans Messer on Dec 2, 2008 18:48:53 GMT -5
Can you hear it?that sound that is like a thousand blades clashing with each other,the sound that that takes life to maintain it...if you cant,then you must be dead.let me tell you a tale about a place like so many others that are engulfed by war,for i was born in such a place...the place i called 'Home'
My name is benzin,an interesting name is it not?i often wonder why i was named such a name,for it had no meaning what so ever....but that is not important,what is important is whatyou shall know other than my name.As an infant i was born in harsh times,my father being forced to join in on the war and my mother being left to care for me all alone,And you can not imagine how hard it is to be raised in such a harsh time,esecially in an area that is a continuos battleground,for my lullabays were the clashing f swords and the screams of terror and death.when i had became the age of five,i was taken from my mother to be raised as a soldier,there were others like me,still children and yet we are forced to learn how to battle.
We were tuaght many skills to survive on and off the battlefeild,Which ranged from hand to hand combat to assasination,we were only allowed a few hours to sleep then we would continue our training to become the perfect soldier,it was during these tiring times that i had learned that my mother had died,being impaled upon the enemy soldiers spear,i was ten at that time,i could not say i felt greif nor tears coming out of my eyes,for i had not really known my mother due to that i was still too young to remember,as such it had not affected me in anyway nor will it ever will i beleive...
After that three years had passed and we were sent to the battle feild,were our efforts of training should have began to show their worth,as you might imagine some of us were quite afraid while the others showed no emotion,no fear of death.as we were met by our enemies we knew they felt shocked at seeing such young children being soldiers,soon the horn for battle was heard and we began to charge into battle,it was long grueling and tiring,but after a whole day had passed the battle had ended,many of us were slain and only seven of us 'child soldiers' were left standing,it was then that us seven children would engage in countless battles and struck fear into the hearts of both our Enemies and Allies thus earning us the name 'The 7 children of Azrail'.
Azrail being a god of death in our land,it was fitting if you had seen what dangerous skills we all had,i was known For killing all my opponents with my bare hand and feet amd so i was known as 'qabda al-mote'which would have meant fist of death if transalated.
And now years had passed and the ware had ended,with our land completely defeated,and thus the remaining soldiers of our land surrendered and joined the service of our enemy,or left and became mercenaries,that is what me and my brothers and sisters became,mercenarys,we went our diffrent ways ad never saw each other after that,i was all alone now,but that mattered not,for now we had reached the conclusion of my tale,im sure you have something better to do now,so farewell and pray,that i become not your enemy,but an associate of yours....or else you will know what fear lies beyond my Fists of death
My name is benzin,an interesting name is it not?i often wonder why i was named such a name,for it had no meaning what so ever....but that is not important,what is important is whatyou shall know other than my name.As an infant i was born in harsh times,my father being forced to join in on the war and my mother being left to care for me all alone,And you can not imagine how hard it is to be raised in such a harsh time,esecially in an area that is a continuos battleground,for my lullabays were the clashing f swords and the screams of terror and death.when i had became the age of five,i was taken from my mother to be raised as a soldier,there were others like me,still children and yet we are forced to learn how to battle.
We were tuaght many skills to survive on and off the battlefeild,Which ranged from hand to hand combat to assasination,we were only allowed a few hours to sleep then we would continue our training to become the perfect soldier,it was during these tiring times that i had learned that my mother had died,being impaled upon the enemy soldiers spear,i was ten at that time,i could not say i felt greif nor tears coming out of my eyes,for i had not really known my mother due to that i was still too young to remember,as such it had not affected me in anyway nor will it ever will i beleive...
After that three years had passed and we were sent to the battle feild,were our efforts of training should have began to show their worth,as you might imagine some of us were quite afraid while the others showed no emotion,no fear of death.as we were met by our enemies we knew they felt shocked at seeing such young children being soldiers,soon the horn for battle was heard and we began to charge into battle,it was long grueling and tiring,but after a whole day had passed the battle had ended,many of us were slain and only seven of us 'child soldiers' were left standing,it was then that us seven children would engage in countless battles and struck fear into the hearts of both our Enemies and Allies thus earning us the name 'The 7 children of Azrail'.
Azrail being a god of death in our land,it was fitting if you had seen what dangerous skills we all had,i was known For killing all my opponents with my bare hand and feet amd so i was known as 'qabda al-mote'which would have meant fist of death if transalated.
And now years had passed and the ware had ended,with our land completely defeated,and thus the remaining soldiers of our land surrendered and joined the service of our enemy,or left and became mercenaries,that is what me and my brothers and sisters became,mercenarys,we went our diffrent ways ad never saw each other after that,i was all alone now,but that mattered not,for now we had reached the conclusion of my tale,im sure you have something better to do now,so farewell and pray,that i become not your enemy,but an associate of yours....or else you will know what fear lies beyond my Fists of death
