by Fear has the role we give it. We are able to empower or poison ourselves to whatever degree we want. This is the beauty of our design.
Hunting Village, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
Life is relatively simple when you live in a small village. Clear skies, sunny days, rainy days...it's a mostly peaceful life. People work honest jobs, trying to live in harmony with eachother. Everyone knowing everyone is nothing out of the ordinary when you meet the same people for days on end for your commissions. Imagine the excitement when travellin merchants come to visit town's hall. The entire village simply gets way more active.
More than everyone, kids are overjoyed. Travelling wanderers meant cool stories. Stories about bravery and heroes, stories about love...stories about triumph and loss. Since the dawn of time, great heroes and nefarious villain of old have accomplished feats of legend. Legends that to the little Apprentice Hunter Tyson Rhodes were one hundred percent real. Each day and each night, the little twelve years old brat deamed of leaving the confined spaces of his home town.
He dreamt of roaming the world. He wanted to see, to experience everything it had to offer. Many were blind to the gifts of the earth and the sky or the wonders of water. But not him. Not Tyson. Every single plant had a story, every critter scuttling on the damp forest floor had qualities. Every creature had something connecting it to everything else that made the Fiore Region what it was.
"...And so, the mighty knight brandished his mighty spear!" the travelling merchant declared in a booming voice, grabbing a broom and holding it out towards an invisbile enemy. The small crowd of kids went all "ooh" and "aaah". In the back, Tyson stared at the adult, grinning ear to ear. The best part of the tale was about to unfold.
"I vanquish thee, foul beast! My powers compels you! Yaaaah!" The merchant waved his "spear" at the kids, who all recoiled as if feeling the force behind such bold strike. "With a single blow, the knight struck at the dragon's heart." The man narrated. "The beast fell. It was done. The dragon had been defeated. For too long it had rampaged. For too long, he had taken the lives of many..."
Tyson couldn't just stop smiling. That was going to be him later on. He'd slay a dragon. Yeah. He'd be the best Slayer around. He'll take down one behemoth after another. Yes, yes. That was his destiny.
Or so he thought, unaware of what would happen as a passing shadow up above clouded the sun for but a single moment.
Lycan Peaks, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
Five Years Later...
"Well well, what do we have here..."
Tyson was petrified. He always dreamt of that moment, yet it happened so randomly so...suddenly that he hadn't got the time to fully process the situation he was in.
"Hello? Boy? A chimera got your tongue?"
It spoke, well telepatically to be honest. Nothing but grows and snarls came out of its fanged maw. That was the last surprising thing though. The most surprising thing is that THERE ACTUALLY WAS AN ACTUAL DRAGON. Right there, in front of him, as big as the huuge cave he was in. The thing was massive. Amethyst scales hard as diamonds, huge horns and piercing green slits. Huge wings. Huge everything really.
And he was trapped in there with that thing. Gods have mercy.
The beast puffed a plume of purple smoke. The odor was nauseating. Tyson almost had to puke. The stench was horrendous. "So. Any reason why you crash into my cave, start poking me with your stick and all that jazz? Are you trying to slay me, human?"
The beast was a problem. Since its presence became known, water began dirtying. Crops going putrid. Livestock dying. It was like the beast's mere presence was a problem and a blessing. It was Tyson's time to shine. For years he had fantasised about being like a powerful Knight or an allmighty Archmage. Or even an Ace Hunter. And when the Commission chose him to hunt and slay the beast he quickly accepted the job. Now it wasn't the time to be afraid. His time was now. They weren't prepared for this. The village wasn't prepared for an actual dragon.
Yet, after infiltrating in the beast's lair and getting lost in the mountains, short on food and water and with the everpresent purple vapor all over making it hard to breathe, Tyson mission was headed towards a failure despite seeming all too easy in the beginning. Easy glory. Easy fame. By the time he got face to face with the dragon, he was greatly weakened. Result? He got smacked around real hard.
"YES!" He shouted, charging blindly once again. Futile attempts. Just a whip of its tail and the dragon had him slapped onto a rocky wall with a thunderous laugh that rocked the very foundation of its lair.
"Har har har. You're a bold one! You can nothing against me. My power is beyond what you mortals can reach."
Tyson struggled to get on his knees. He probably broke something. Could be his ribs, could be his fighting spirit. Could be both. It was also getting hard to breathe.
"R-really *cough cough* W-why don't you prove it, you sack of shit." The yougster spatted, wheezing. He spat. Blood. He was in no shape to fight or win. But hell he'd go out with his pride intact.
The young hunter observed the dragon get visibly irritated. "YOU INSIGNIFICANT MAGGOT!" Tyson heard it scream in his mind as the dragon roared in his face, spit and death stench included. It was so loud it left Tyson's ears ringing. "YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL I HAVEN'T KILLED YOU YET. YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO KILL ME EVEN IF YOU USED MY OWN POWERS AGAINST ME."
...that is how insignificat you are, he said. In all honesty, even Tyson's pride was faltering at the current moment. Wait, Pride. Pride! That dragon was one pompous beast! If he couldn't use a sword to beat him, he could use his pride against him.
"Yeah, really?" Tyson barked, forcing himself back on his feet by pure willpower. He stood there, all battered and limping as he made his stand against the beast. "Those are some nice words, but everyone knows dragons are liars. It's true, I'm weak. If I had your powers though? I'd kick your ass so hard you'd go back from where you came from in an heartbeat. You're lucky you can kill me now."
There. He didn't yield. If the dragon killed him now, at least he would have tainted his pride. Tyson waited the finishing blow and the pain to end all pains. But the fatal strike didn't happen. The purple vapor burning his lungs receded. The dragon went all high and mighty into a solemn pose.
"You know, I was going to kill you...but not anymore. You amuse me, Tyson Rhodes, your struggles to be a badass even though you're clearly outmatched. Still, no one disrespects me or my pride and for that I shall change my plans accordingly. Instead of killing you know, I shall use you to amuse myself."
And in that precise moment, Tyson could swear the beast could actually smile maliciously.
Huntman's Recess, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
Two Years Later...
Focus, breathe. Feel Nature around you. Feel it's connection to the Weave. Percieve the Weave, fell it permeate all living and dead. The Weave is the cloth, he was the needle. He could change it, rip it, bend it to his will. That was the key for that power. That was the key to winning.
It had been two years. Two years of seclusion. Three years of torture. Xivu Jih'va had a nasty game to play and all the time in the world. Tyson was just the disposable pawn. For his sharp tongue that day in the cave he had been forced into a nightmare.
The dragon was actually teaching him to control Poison. Tyson was learning magic. But the condition of said training were brutal. If he failed even something simple as a cantrip, he would be punished. That usally meant him getting beat up. If he told others about Jih'va, he would be punished. That meant his village getting destroyed. He was allowed back to his village only once every month, so the young man had to craft an elaborate lie about travelling around to slay a legendary wandering beast.
Each day at sunset, he would fight the dragon. If he managed to kill him, he'd be freed. If he failed, he'd be punished. This would go on and on until he'd be dead.
Tyson knew there was something missing in this torture disguised as training. First, the dragon started giving instructions in Draconic, its ancient tongue. At first that made for some quick and easy punishment, but Tyson learned quickly. When teaching stuff in a unknown language wasn't enough, the dragon started adopting other methods of torment. Tyson knew the beast was hiding something. He allowing him to meddle in Draconic magic. He would allow him to peek from a door's peephole, but it never gave him the key to enter.
He wouldn't last much longer. Each day he was more and more worn out. He had to find a way to turn the dragon's poisons against him. He knew it could be done, he didn't exactly know how. Everything was tied to the Weave. He just needed to mold it in the right way.
As the sun died down, leaving space for a chilly night and a bright full moon, Tyson stood at the ready, Xivu Jih'va before him. "So, will today be the day?" The dragon taunted, like it did every day. "You said you could beat me if you had my powers. Well? Prove it...and when you fail, you will be punished."
Tyson closed his eyes. Focus. Feel the Weave. Feel it's connection to life and death. To nature's cycle. Focus, breathe.
Focus.
Fight.
Win.
No dice, it took but a few minutes and his spells were stifled by the dragon's might. Tyson was once again eating mud, powerless, tired and aching. Punishment was coming.
Huntman's Recess, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
One Year Later...
"You never cease to amuse my, Tyson Rhodes. I taught everything in my power, yet you failed your task time and time again. You know the rules. As long as you fail, you shall get punished. I can sense there isn't much life force left in you, so perhaps this will be the last day of your training. In your next life you will think twice before challenging who you cannot reach. A maggot you are, a maggot you shall remai-"
Even the weak become strong once the chains around their hearts are broken. Tyson had nothing left. It had all come to a point where he could barely stand. For years he had known nothing but pain. Not enough to die, but as much as needed to keep him in constant peril.
And in that final moments, those moments where he thought he couldn't go anymore, he saw the light. After years of imprisonment. Years of a carousel of agony. He could finally, truly, understand the secret of Xivu Jih'va's power. The true meaning.
Poison is in everything, and no thing is without poison. Not all poison was bitter. Some of the deadliest poisons in the world tasted sweet; they were that much more dangerous because of it.
Yet when poison becomes a habit, it ceases to injure: it makes your soul gradually acquainted with death. Death of all things.
A single wave of his hand, a single incantation. "Rejuviium Infecenis". Such spell wouldn't be able to kill Jih'va. While it created a nasty vapor lethal to most things, the dragon was immune.
Yet it wasn't the dragon Tyson was trying to infect. No, he would poison the Poison. He would corrode the thing that corroded. Corrupt the thing that would corrupt. By doing so, he would make it everything and nothing at the same time.
The dragon's eyes flashed in shock when the human remained standing after he had breathed his usual acidic spell on him. "Pestius Silempra." Another spell, the dragon knew that one well. It was used to empower a poison's effect by allowing it to corrode a target until it was completely consumed.
For the first time ever, the dragon's powers had been nullified. Tyson had the beast figured out. He shouldn't attack the physical form of the dragon, but his magic itself. He would shread its Weave into pieces, corrode its connection with nature on a plane where he'd be too late to do anything. Even if he noticed, it was too late. Once the weave is damaged it needs time to reform. Damage it too much by forcing it to your will and you'd lose your connection to nature.
Rend it, and you would sever the strings of life.
Ace of Spades, Central Fiore Region, Present Age.
A young man made his way to the bristing town at a comfortable pace. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His best friend told him. Markus was one of the best hunters now. Yet he couldn't fathom why Tyson had decided to drop everything to deepen his knowledge of magic after returning from his failed quest to slay a legendary beast. Magic of all things. He always thought his best friend wanted to become an Ace Hunter of the village.
Tyson had chuckled, saying he was sure about his decision. No one in his village knew. For as much suffering he had gone through in his time with Xivu Jih'va, the dragon had given him something to strive for, despite trying to poison his life and slowly take everything from him. He knew about the Weave now. He knew how to tap into that arcane power. Yet he knew there was much he still didn't know about.
As such, he would seek others able to broaden his horizons. There was surely someone bound to have shared a similar experience...and why simply be a famous hunter when he had the tools to actually become Legend?
Besides...are they legends if they are real? Well...that's another story.
Hunting Village, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
Life is relatively simple when you live in a small village. Clear skies, sunny days, rainy days...it's a mostly peaceful life. People work honest jobs, trying to live in harmony with eachother. Everyone knowing everyone is nothing out of the ordinary when you meet the same people for days on end for your commissions. Imagine the excitement when travellin merchants come to visit town's hall. The entire village simply gets way more active.
More than everyone, kids are overjoyed. Travelling wanderers meant cool stories. Stories about bravery and heroes, stories about love...stories about triumph and loss. Since the dawn of time, great heroes and nefarious villain of old have accomplished feats of legend. Legends that to the little Apprentice Hunter Tyson Rhodes were one hundred percent real. Each day and each night, the little twelve years old brat deamed of leaving the confined spaces of his home town.
He dreamt of roaming the world. He wanted to see, to experience everything it had to offer. Many were blind to the gifts of the earth and the sky or the wonders of water. But not him. Not Tyson. Every single plant had a story, every critter scuttling on the damp forest floor had qualities. Every creature had something connecting it to everything else that made the Fiore Region what it was.
"...And so, the mighty knight brandished his mighty spear!" the travelling merchant declared in a booming voice, grabbing a broom and holding it out towards an invisbile enemy. The small crowd of kids went all "ooh" and "aaah". In the back, Tyson stared at the adult, grinning ear to ear. The best part of the tale was about to unfold.
"I vanquish thee, foul beast! My powers compels you! Yaaaah!" The merchant waved his "spear" at the kids, who all recoiled as if feeling the force behind such bold strike. "With a single blow, the knight struck at the dragon's heart." The man narrated. "The beast fell. It was done. The dragon had been defeated. For too long it had rampaged. For too long, he had taken the lives of many..."
Tyson couldn't just stop smiling. That was going to be him later on. He'd slay a dragon. Yeah. He'd be the best Slayer around. He'll take down one behemoth after another. Yes, yes. That was his destiny.
Or so he thought, unaware of what would happen as a passing shadow up above clouded the sun for but a single moment.
Lycan Peaks, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
Five Years Later...
"Well well, what do we have here..."
Tyson was petrified. He always dreamt of that moment, yet it happened so randomly so...suddenly that he hadn't got the time to fully process the situation he was in.
"Hello? Boy? A chimera got your tongue?"
It spoke, well telepatically to be honest. Nothing but grows and snarls came out of its fanged maw. That was the last surprising thing though. The most surprising thing is that THERE ACTUALLY WAS AN ACTUAL DRAGON. Right there, in front of him, as big as the huuge cave he was in. The thing was massive. Amethyst scales hard as diamonds, huge horns and piercing green slits. Huge wings. Huge everything really.
And he was trapped in there with that thing. Gods have mercy.
The beast puffed a plume of purple smoke. The odor was nauseating. Tyson almost had to puke. The stench was horrendous. "So. Any reason why you crash into my cave, start poking me with your stick and all that jazz? Are you trying to slay me, human?"
The beast was a problem. Since its presence became known, water began dirtying. Crops going putrid. Livestock dying. It was like the beast's mere presence was a problem and a blessing. It was Tyson's time to shine. For years he had fantasised about being like a powerful Knight or an allmighty Archmage. Or even an Ace Hunter. And when the Commission chose him to hunt and slay the beast he quickly accepted the job. Now it wasn't the time to be afraid. His time was now. They weren't prepared for this. The village wasn't prepared for an actual dragon.
Yet, after infiltrating in the beast's lair and getting lost in the mountains, short on food and water and with the everpresent purple vapor all over making it hard to breathe, Tyson mission was headed towards a failure despite seeming all too easy in the beginning. Easy glory. Easy fame. By the time he got face to face with the dragon, he was greatly weakened. Result? He got smacked around real hard.
"YES!" He shouted, charging blindly once again. Futile attempts. Just a whip of its tail and the dragon had him slapped onto a rocky wall with a thunderous laugh that rocked the very foundation of its lair.
"Har har har. You're a bold one! You can nothing against me. My power is beyond what you mortals can reach."
Tyson struggled to get on his knees. He probably broke something. Could be his ribs, could be his fighting spirit. Could be both. It was also getting hard to breathe.
"R-really *cough cough* W-why don't you prove it, you sack of shit." The yougster spatted, wheezing. He spat. Blood. He was in no shape to fight or win. But hell he'd go out with his pride intact.
The young hunter observed the dragon get visibly irritated. "YOU INSIGNIFICANT MAGGOT!" Tyson heard it scream in his mind as the dragon roared in his face, spit and death stench included. It was so loud it left Tyson's ears ringing. "YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL I HAVEN'T KILLED YOU YET. YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO KILL ME EVEN IF YOU USED MY OWN POWERS AGAINST ME."
...that is how insignificat you are, he said. In all honesty, even Tyson's pride was faltering at the current moment. Wait, Pride. Pride! That dragon was one pompous beast! If he couldn't use a sword to beat him, he could use his pride against him.
"Yeah, really?" Tyson barked, forcing himself back on his feet by pure willpower. He stood there, all battered and limping as he made his stand against the beast. "Those are some nice words, but everyone knows dragons are liars. It's true, I'm weak. If I had your powers though? I'd kick your ass so hard you'd go back from where you came from in an heartbeat. You're lucky you can kill me now."
There. He didn't yield. If the dragon killed him now, at least he would have tainted his pride. Tyson waited the finishing blow and the pain to end all pains. But the fatal strike didn't happen. The purple vapor burning his lungs receded. The dragon went all high and mighty into a solemn pose.
"You know, I was going to kill you...but not anymore. You amuse me, Tyson Rhodes, your struggles to be a badass even though you're clearly outmatched. Still, no one disrespects me or my pride and for that I shall change my plans accordingly. Instead of killing you know, I shall use you to amuse myself."
And in that precise moment, Tyson could swear the beast could actually smile maliciously.
Huntman's Recess, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
Two Years Later...
Focus, breathe. Feel Nature around you. Feel it's connection to the Weave. Percieve the Weave, fell it permeate all living and dead. The Weave is the cloth, he was the needle. He could change it, rip it, bend it to his will. That was the key for that power. That was the key to winning.
It had been two years. Two years of seclusion. Three years of torture. Xivu Jih'va had a nasty game to play and all the time in the world. Tyson was just the disposable pawn. For his sharp tongue that day in the cave he had been forced into a nightmare.
The dragon was actually teaching him to control Poison. Tyson was learning magic. But the condition of said training were brutal. If he failed even something simple as a cantrip, he would be punished. That usally meant him getting beat up. If he told others about Jih'va, he would be punished. That meant his village getting destroyed. He was allowed back to his village only once every month, so the young man had to craft an elaborate lie about travelling around to slay a legendary wandering beast.
Each day at sunset, he would fight the dragon. If he managed to kill him, he'd be freed. If he failed, he'd be punished. This would go on and on until he'd be dead.
Tyson knew there was something missing in this torture disguised as training. First, the dragon started giving instructions in Draconic, its ancient tongue. At first that made for some quick and easy punishment, but Tyson learned quickly. When teaching stuff in a unknown language wasn't enough, the dragon started adopting other methods of torment. Tyson knew the beast was hiding something. He allowing him to meddle in Draconic magic. He would allow him to peek from a door's peephole, but it never gave him the key to enter.
He wouldn't last much longer. Each day he was more and more worn out. He had to find a way to turn the dragon's poisons against him. He knew it could be done, he didn't exactly know how. Everything was tied to the Weave. He just needed to mold it in the right way.
As the sun died down, leaving space for a chilly night and a bright full moon, Tyson stood at the ready, Xivu Jih'va before him. "So, will today be the day?" The dragon taunted, like it did every day. "You said you could beat me if you had my powers. Well? Prove it...and when you fail, you will be punished."
Tyson closed his eyes. Focus. Feel the Weave. Feel it's connection to life and death. To nature's cycle. Focus, breathe.
Focus.
Fight.
Win.
No dice, it took but a few minutes and his spells were stifled by the dragon's might. Tyson was once again eating mud, powerless, tired and aching. Punishment was coming.
Huntman's Recess, Western Fiore Region, Past Age.
One Year Later...
"You never cease to amuse my, Tyson Rhodes. I taught everything in my power, yet you failed your task time and time again. You know the rules. As long as you fail, you shall get punished. I can sense there isn't much life force left in you, so perhaps this will be the last day of your training. In your next life you will think twice before challenging who you cannot reach. A maggot you are, a maggot you shall remai-"
Even the weak become strong once the chains around their hearts are broken. Tyson had nothing left. It had all come to a point where he could barely stand. For years he had known nothing but pain. Not enough to die, but as much as needed to keep him in constant peril.
And in that final moments, those moments where he thought he couldn't go anymore, he saw the light. After years of imprisonment. Years of a carousel of agony. He could finally, truly, understand the secret of Xivu Jih'va's power. The true meaning.
Poison is in everything, and no thing is without poison. Not all poison was bitter. Some of the deadliest poisons in the world tasted sweet; they were that much more dangerous because of it.
Yet when poison becomes a habit, it ceases to injure: it makes your soul gradually acquainted with death. Death of all things.
A single wave of his hand, a single incantation. "Rejuviium Infecenis". Such spell wouldn't be able to kill Jih'va. While it created a nasty vapor lethal to most things, the dragon was immune.
Yet it wasn't the dragon Tyson was trying to infect. No, he would poison the Poison. He would corrode the thing that corroded. Corrupt the thing that would corrupt. By doing so, he would make it everything and nothing at the same time.
The dragon's eyes flashed in shock when the human remained standing after he had breathed his usual acidic spell on him. "Pestius Silempra." Another spell, the dragon knew that one well. It was used to empower a poison's effect by allowing it to corrode a target until it was completely consumed.
For the first time ever, the dragon's powers had been nullified. Tyson had the beast figured out. He shouldn't attack the physical form of the dragon, but his magic itself. He would shread its Weave into pieces, corrode its connection with nature on a plane where he'd be too late to do anything. Even if he noticed, it was too late. Once the weave is damaged it needs time to reform. Damage it too much by forcing it to your will and you'd lose your connection to nature.
Rend it, and you would sever the strings of life.
Ace of Spades, Central Fiore Region, Present Age.
A young man made his way to the bristing town at a comfortable pace. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His best friend told him. Markus was one of the best hunters now. Yet he couldn't fathom why Tyson had decided to drop everything to deepen his knowledge of magic after returning from his failed quest to slay a legendary beast. Magic of all things. He always thought his best friend wanted to become an Ace Hunter of the village.
Tyson had chuckled, saying he was sure about his decision. No one in his village knew. For as much suffering he had gone through in his time with Xivu Jih'va, the dragon had given him something to strive for, despite trying to poison his life and slowly take everything from him. He knew about the Weave now. He knew how to tap into that arcane power. Yet he knew there was much he still didn't know about.
As such, he would seek others able to broaden his horizons. There was surely someone bound to have shared a similar experience...and why simply be a famous hunter when he had the tools to actually become Legend?
Besides...are they legends if they are real? Well...that's another story.
