One face, many people

Hero , or even scientists usually are never mentioned just the one such as einstien, Niels bohr, dalton. This is the story of a man who is a hero , but refuses to let his colleauges not to be heard. This is a story of the sword , and courage. One of magic, and dispair.

I stand my sword firmly held in my hand, my green traveling cloak flapped behind me in the smoke,and blood filled air. My dark red hair flaps to the left along with the cloak.  I stood on a cliff , on a slab of rock that seems to challenge the flat vallied terrian. Below was a once but now burned paradise, it reeks of death , despair , blood, and smoke. My hand flips the long sword embewd with two blue gems on the hand gaurd of the hilt. The blade itself could shine in pitch black , it was long enough to where on the back , and width wise as half as ones hand.  I put it into its sheath avoiding its sharp edges. With only a pound of pressure it could slice one in half.

I looked at the field of death agian, I was too late to face the demon Karadrass. He had single handedly brought destuction , to almost every he went, now he was gaining powerful allies, not to many stood in his way other than the elves Barand, the dwarves of the centeral mountians, and the humans of Toralen.  There is more but those where the three major forces that stood between , chaos , and destruction , and freedom.  I walked back my leather encased metal guantelts , should gaurds, quietly clacking.  Before me stands a fully cloacked figure.

" Volaron." The figure says.

I let a small attack spell form in my hands one that speaks of flames and wind.

" State your name , species, and intentions would be mighty nice."  I say, ready to let go of the spell if needed.

The End

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