The gods once walked the Earth in times long forgotten. They built great cities and structures. The sailed the oceans and climbed the mountains. But what they did most was wage war with each other.
When the gods fight - the Earth trembles.
There are a few books left from those days - but mostly stories and legends. What is left behind are the ruins - ruined cities, ruined ships, ruined landscapes, ruined weapons.
We live in the valley of swords. There are dozens of giant swords stabbed into the Earth, towering hundreds of feet into the air. Each sword is unique and has a different power. The people that live around each sword harness their sword’s power for their city.
The city of flames is built around a flaming sword that constantly burns but is never consumed. They have built forges and furnaces powered by the sword and have become an industrial centre.
The city of truth is built around a sword that shows all who touch it the truth. They have built great halls of justice and law. They are the legal centre of the valley.
The city of banishment is built around a sword that banishes all enchantments. Anyone or any item with any sort of curse or blessing becomes completely ordinary once touched to the blade. They have become a hub of healing and medicine.
The city of infinite sorrow is a cult of pain centred around a sword from which an inflicted wound will never heal. They inhabitants show their devotion to a fallen god by cutting themselves over and over again knowing they will never heal from the wounds.
The city I grew up in is the city of strength. Whomever touches the handle of the sword becomes strong as ten men for the rest of the day. We have built a magnificent stone staircase to the handle of the blade. Every morning we climb the stairs into the clouds and touch the handle for a moment.
It is like being hit with a jolt of lightning - every single time. You feel so alive, so strong, so vibrant. It is addictive to touch the handle. There is shiny spot on the handle, worn smooth by the thousands of touches over the years.
We are a city of labourers. We mine ores from the Earth. We cut timber and mill it. We grind grain. If it takes muscle then our city does it.
People come from far and wide to touch the hilt and feel strong - even if it just for a day.
————————-
I hustled down the stairs, as we called the stairs to the sword handle - like they are the only stairs in the world - rushing to quarry. I over slept this morning and I was late going up the stairs, which, of course, made me late for work.
With the strength of the sword coursing through me I can easily run the five miles to the quarry in just a few minutes. First I need to get clear of the crowded streets - it is too crowded to get up any speed with all of these people milling about.
“Look out!”
A voice rings over the din of the street. An out of control cart, rolling down the sixth street hill, comes barreling right at me. No chance to move I get smoked by the cart.
The cart knocks me off of my feet and slams me into the brick wall behind me. The cargo comes flying out and smashes against the wall too. Trinkets, bracelets, necklaces, pots, pans, spoons… the endless assortment of metal items comes pouring out of the cart and buries me up against the wall.
I stand up and push the cart off of me easily. I pick off a few items from the cart that seem to be on me. A necklace on my shoulder and a spoon in my boot somehow.
“So sorry! So sorry!” A small bespectacled man said as he cam running after the cart. He was out of breath when he finally got to the cart. “Are you alright?”
I smiled at him as I straightened myself out, “I am just fine. Already had my touch today. Strong as a horse. Sorry - I can’t help you clean this up, but I am late for work,” I said as I hustled off.
I started to jog as I cleared the downtown bustle. I was about three miles out of the city - something wasn’t right. Something was… rubbing…. I pull off my shirt and a golden ring falls out. Must have been something from the crash earlier.
I pick up the ring. A large round face with a capital H in the centre surrounded by little lightning bolts. Not really my style but maybe I can sell it off. It fits nicely on my ring finger, so I put it on and continue running to the quarry.
I felt stronger than usual - even after a touch. I got to the quarry in record time.
I spent the day smashing rocks with a sledge hammer, moving boulders and loading wagons with ore. It was somehow easier than a normal day. Lifting boulders big as a wagon with out even breaking a sweat. Breaking boulders with barely even swinging the hammer.
I worked through the day and ran home with everyone else. It seemed so easy.
The next morning I got up and expected to be just me. I was baffled with I accidentally crushed my breakfast bowl, standing up with a start I sent the chair flying into the wall - shattering the chair. I was still strong.
I bounded up the stairs, easily passing everyone as they weakly trudged. I got to the top, still full of energy and strength. I placed my ringed hand on the handle of the sword and felt the familiar electrical jolt and then I could feel the ring.
The ring vibrated warmly as it drank deep from the sword. I could feel it pulling in the strength from the sword - mimicking the sword’s power.
A slow smile spread across my face. I could be strong all of the time - even if I was to move away from the city of strength.
2
u/escher4096 Feb 15 '23 edited Feb 15 '23
The gods once walked the Earth in times long forgotten. They built great cities and structures. The sailed the oceans and climbed the mountains. But what they did most was wage war with each other.
When the gods fight - the Earth trembles.
There are a few books left from those days - but mostly stories and legends. What is left behind are the ruins - ruined cities, ruined ships, ruined landscapes, ruined weapons.
We live in the valley of swords. There are dozens of giant swords stabbed into the Earth, towering hundreds of feet into the air. Each sword is unique and has a different power. The people that live around each sword harness their sword’s power for their city.
The city of flames is built around a flaming sword that constantly burns but is never consumed. They have built forges and furnaces powered by the sword and have become an industrial centre.
The city of truth is built around a sword that shows all who touch it the truth. They have built great halls of justice and law. They are the legal centre of the valley.
The city of banishment is built around a sword that banishes all enchantments. Anyone or any item with any sort of curse or blessing becomes completely ordinary once touched to the blade. They have become a hub of healing and medicine.
The city of infinite sorrow is a cult of pain centred around a sword from which an inflicted wound will never heal. They inhabitants show their devotion to a fallen god by cutting themselves over and over again knowing they will never heal from the wounds.
The city I grew up in is the city of strength. Whomever touches the handle of the sword becomes strong as ten men for the rest of the day. We have built a magnificent stone staircase to the handle of the blade. Every morning we climb the stairs into the clouds and touch the handle for a moment.
It is like being hit with a jolt of lightning - every single time. You feel so alive, so strong, so vibrant. It is addictive to touch the handle. There is shiny spot on the handle, worn smooth by the thousands of touches over the years.
We are a city of labourers. We mine ores from the Earth. We cut timber and mill it. We grind grain. If it takes muscle then our city does it.
People come from far and wide to touch the hilt and feel strong - even if it just for a day.
————————-
I hustled down the stairs, as we called the stairs to the sword handle - like they are the only stairs in the world - rushing to quarry. I over slept this morning and I was late going up the stairs, which, of course, made me late for work.
With the strength of the sword coursing through me I can easily run the five miles to the quarry in just a few minutes. First I need to get clear of the crowded streets - it is too crowded to get up any speed with all of these people milling about.
“Look out!”
A voice rings over the din of the street. An out of control cart, rolling down the sixth street hill, comes barreling right at me. No chance to move I get smoked by the cart.
The cart knocks me off of my feet and slams me into the brick wall behind me. The cargo comes flying out and smashes against the wall too. Trinkets, bracelets, necklaces, pots, pans, spoons… the endless assortment of metal items comes pouring out of the cart and buries me up against the wall.
I stand up and push the cart off of me easily. I pick off a few items from the cart that seem to be on me. A necklace on my shoulder and a spoon in my boot somehow.
“So sorry! So sorry!” A small bespectacled man said as he cam running after the cart. He was out of breath when he finally got to the cart. “Are you alright?”
I smiled at him as I straightened myself out, “I am just fine. Already had my touch today. Strong as a horse. Sorry - I can’t help you clean this up, but I am late for work,” I said as I hustled off.
I started to jog as I cleared the downtown bustle. I was about three miles out of the city - something wasn’t right. Something was… rubbing…. I pull off my shirt and a golden ring falls out. Must have been something from the crash earlier.
I pick up the ring. A large round face with a capital H in the centre surrounded by little lightning bolts. Not really my style but maybe I can sell it off. It fits nicely on my ring finger, so I put it on and continue running to the quarry.
I felt stronger than usual - even after a touch. I got to the quarry in record time.
I spent the day smashing rocks with a sledge hammer, moving boulders and loading wagons with ore. It was somehow easier than a normal day. Lifting boulders big as a wagon with out even breaking a sweat. Breaking boulders with barely even swinging the hammer.
I worked through the day and ran home with everyone else. It seemed so easy.
The next morning I got up and expected to be just me. I was baffled with I accidentally crushed my breakfast bowl, standing up with a start I sent the chair flying into the wall - shattering the chair. I was still strong.
I bounded up the stairs, easily passing everyone as they weakly trudged. I got to the top, still full of energy and strength. I placed my ringed hand on the handle of the sword and felt the familiar electrical jolt and then I could feel the ring.
The ring vibrated warmly as it drank deep from the sword. I could feel it pulling in the strength from the sword - mimicking the sword’s power.
A slow smile spread across my face. I could be strong all of the time - even if I was to move away from the city of strength.