"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought with, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." ~Albert Einstein
Peoria was a peaceful village, some may even say beautiful, built from the ancients husks of the Old Age. On the verge of being called town, nearly 1000 citizens living in tranquil cohabitation behind their primitive palaside walls. The land they lived and worked on was formally owned by the Kingdom of Chicago, but they were given ample autonomy, as long as they gave their tribute at each harvest. It was a good life in a hostile world, safety in numbers, walls good enough to keep most beasts out, and a few soldiers to keep the peace.
This place was a home to peace, a portrait of tranquility, but this world was not peaceful and never tranquil. Amongst the children's laughter, autumn leaves, and convivial attitudes, malevolent forces crept through the walls and around their ankles, below their detection. Soon, the bucolic landscape, full gaiety, was beset by forces of ultimate power; power that was brought to this world by the smashing or splitting of the very matter that composed all things. Energy was sapped from the gleeful children as their stomachs were over turned and their noses ran red, screams pierced the beauty of autumn, and fear over came the attitudes of joy that was present seconds ago.
A lone figure strode through the palaside walls as the wood rotted away at his approach, a faint green glow radiating off of him. He was the cause of this pain, he manipulated the power that brought the end of the Old age, the Glow. The guards could do nothing as they to were overcome by the Glow's violent powers, many died, but those few who lived through the pain were changed to the dreaded Glow Touched. Their hair falling in clumps and their bodies contorting into vaguely human beasts, attacking those that were once called friend. Chaos consumed Peoria, for they were not prepared for the horrors of this world.
But not all of those within this world were as ill prepared as these peaceful folk. A lone horseman galloped towards the doomed town, upon a black horse and clad in black. The lone Glow Weaver who had destroyed the peace of this village faced this new opponent, unleashing the Glow upon he who dared to challenge the power that toppled empires. The Glow reached towards this lone rider, surrounding him in the essence of destruction, yet horse and rider soon burst forth from the green energy that had assailed them, a amulet upon the riders neck glowing like a green sun. Seemingly unfazed by the riders bravery, the Glow Weaver pointed with a gnarled finger and those poor souls who turned to Glow Touch shambled towards the rider.
Still, the lone rider did not change course, but drew a curved blade as his steed trampled four Glow Touched under 1100 pounds of muscle before giving signs of slowing. With wide swooping strokes, the gleaming blade passed through the Glow Touched like a scythe through wheat, but one man could only do so much. As the rider valiantly warded off many of the mindless beasts, the rogue Glow Weaver left as suddenly as he had come. The darkness that had consumed the town receded, and with it, the direction of the Glow Touched fell away as well. Slowly, the foul parodies of the citizens of Peoria dispersed and those Glow Touched foolish enough to continue fighting were cut down.
The great struggle has come to an end, yet the hunter's quarrel still eluded him. Dismounting, the black clad figure picked his way through the carnage that had befell this poor village. Those not yet dead reached for there savior, perhaps he could save them from their slow, inevitable demise, but even he had no remedy them now. Pushing aside the struggling villagers that stubbornly clung to life, he searched through the village until he came across a boy who was barely 16 curled in a ball beside two corpses. His hair laying beside him, slowly being swept away by the soft breeze that would have marked a beautiful day. His skin a sickly pale from the ravages of the Glow, yet here he sits, alive.
Pulling the boy to his feet, the lone rider beckoned him follow as he mounted his horse and pulled the boy up behind him. A distant look painted across the boys young face as his eyes washed across the faces of his dead and dying friends and family. The Glow gives and the Glow takes, the Glow is power and the Glow is pain, the Glow is the way.
This was cool! Thanks for posting it.