"The Empire… huh?"
A wry smile stretched across her lips.
Let's see what kind of chaos awaits me there.
Suddenly, Khaevar was struck by a brilliant thought.
Wait a second… The ritual is over, but… where exactly do I live?!
He grabbed his head with his left hand, panicked.
"What am I going to do?! I don't know anyone here! I mean… I don't know anyone Khaevar knew! What am I going to do?! BUT HOW AM I GOING TO DO?!"
An idea crossed his mind.
Maybe I can go talk to some random barbarians. With a bit of luck…
[IMAGINED SCENARIO]
→ If the barbarian knows me:Khaevar:"Hey man, how's it going?"
Unknown:"Oh! Hello Khaevar, son of Lokhzel! It's been a while!"
"And I ask him to come home with me (even though it feels weird, but oh well…)."
→ If the barbarian doesn't know me:
Unknown:"Hey man, I'm…"
"Okay… I'll move on to the next one until I find someone who knows me."
[END OF SCENARIO]
He sighed deeply.
"Okay, let's go… I have a feeling I'm going to regret this."
FLASH.
A sudden impression overwhelmed him, like a memory that had naturally returned to him.
Huh? Wait… I know. I know where I live.
Without even understanding why, he rushed into the bustling streets of the village, his weapon in hand.
The stone and wood dwellings formed a rough architecture, typical of a barbaric village. The roads were dirt tracks, the alleyways lit by the flickering glow of torches. The village was alive.
From elders to children, from warriors to artisans, everyone seemed busy, immersed in the joyful bustle of the festivities.
After a few minutes of running, he stopped in front of a wooden shack, somewhat isolated from the others, on the edge of the village.
"I hope I live alone…," he sighed before abruptly opening the door.
Sinister creaking.
The room was empty. A simple chair, a plate, and a glass sat on a small table near an unlit fireplace where they were accumulating ashes and a few pieces of charred wood.
A sigh of relief.
"Phew. I live alone. Thankfully…"
He stared at the silent room, then his face tightened, somewhere between disgust and resignation.
… In fact… Even in this new life, I am condemned to be alone.
A bitter sarcasm escapes him.
"Great. What a promotion."
The dawn of departure
Morning had dawned, peaceful.
The first rays of sunlight touched the stones and wood of the dwellings, gently caressing the roofs of the barbaric village.
In the distance, the light songs of birds accompanied the discreet murmur of a river, whose current could be heard from the small wooden window of Khaevar's house.
But he was already standing.
He equipped himself carefully, as if he were going to climb a mountain.
He donned his black steel armbands, sculpted into the shape of curved claws. A dark fabric masked his palms and the backs of his hands, to better conceal his grips and protect his skin.
On his right shoulder, a raw steel epaulette, adorned with beast fangs, testified to his barbaric origins and his clan. His leather sandals, securely fastened with ropes, his belt combining steel, leather and black fur, his perfectly fitted greaves—everything seemed tailored to withstand the harshness of the world.
* apart from the leather sandals, of course.
[ EQUIPMENT ]
War hammer-axe (Common): [ FOR +2 ]Black steel armbands (Rare): [ VIT +1 | FOR +1 ]raw steel shoulder pad (Rare): [ LIFE +2]Belt (Common): [VIT +1]Leather leg warmers (Common): [VIT +1]
This equipment… These were the only valuable things he possessed. He had found them carefully stored in a locked chest, probably prepared by the former Khaevar, the one from whom he had now inherited his life. His knee pads, the steel, still bore the marks of past battles. The old Khaevar had to sweat to get to this point.
Like most adventurous barbarians, he was shirtless, proudly displaying his ritual tattoos, symbols of his clan but also of all barbarians and of his passage into manhood.
Khaevar's gaze was full of determination. He stared at the door.
His heart was racing.
He grabbed his weapon, strapped it to his back with a sure hand, took a patched bag he found in the house, and then pushed the door open forcefully.
The crisp morning air hit him, as if to wake him up a second time.
"Good. It's time," he breathed.
He cast one last look at his empty house.
I must join the others in the public square… Where, just yesterday, the rite of passage took place.
Without looking back, Khaevar dashed through the village streets, ready to begin his journey to the Empire of Aurélion.
Walking confidently, he scanned the surroundings:
If I remember correctly, I belong to the Blood fang clan… the most powerful barbarian clan in the game. So, according to the official RG website… I'm in the village of Varkrog. That's rather reassuring.
Having arrived at the public square, they waited a few moments before beginning their march towards the Empire.
The journey was long. Half a day's walk, punctuated by the heavy steps of the young warriors, until finally reaching the gates of Netherion.
The Empire of Aurélion.
One of the four great empires of the world of Ætherion. A vast and powerful territory.
Aurélion was a crossroads, a place where several races coexisted and formed the very foundations of the empire. This empire, though cosmopolitan, was ruled by Humans. At its head was Valerius Lionheart, the Emperor with the Heart of Fire, a sovereign respected and feared by all.
The Lionheart imperial family resided in the prestigious Imperial Palace, located in the heart of Netherion, the capital of Aurélion.
Finally, they came within sight of Netherion, the imperial city.
The capital was protected by an immense stone wall that seemed to touch the sky. Its massive ramparts inspired respect and admiration.
Around the main gate, the commotion was in full swing: carts loaded with goods, merchants with shrill voices, peasants from the surrounding villages… All were coming and going in a chaotic but familiar ballet.
Two gigantic sentinels, clad in armor engraved with the imperial emblem, guarded the entrance with an implacable presence. Their gaze pierced the crowd, ready to spot the slightest intruder.
Khaevar and the others passed through the imposing gate.
As soon as they entered the town, the hubbub became deafening: working forges, lively discussions, children running between the stalls, street musicians, bursts of voices and the smells of fresh bread and spices…
A new world, teeming with life.
A world in which Khaevar would have to find his place.
Twilight on Netherion
The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon, tinting the walls of Netherion a coppery red. The young barbarians were accompanied by a veteran, a seasoned adventurer, tasked with guiding them to the Abyssal Portal Square, the entrance to the dreaded Great Labyrinth.
"GOOD! LISTEN-ME, ALL THE WORLD." His voice thundered, imposing, rising above the tumult of the square.
[Identity: Enrik]
Race: Barbarian
Rank: D | Level: 38
Class: Guardian | Role: Guide
"WE ARE ALREADY IN NETHERION. BUT THE ABYSS PORTAL DOESN'T APPEAR UNTIL 7 PM. IT IS CURRENTLY AROUND 4 PM. YOU ARE FREE TO DO WHAT YOU WANT UNTIL THEN… BUT DON'T GET LOST IN THIS CITY. IN, THREE HOURS, WE WILL MEET HERE. AFTER A TEN-MINUTE WAIT, WE WILL LEAVE. WHOEVER ISN'T THERE? THAT'S THEIR PROBLEM.BE CAREFUL!!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the barbarians scattered without hesitation throughout the city. Laughing, shouting, singing, jostling… Khaevar, however, remained at a distance, observing the group blend into the city with all the subtlety of a herd of wild boars.
"GO THEM FRIENDS"What if we went and looked at the gun shops a little further away?"
"AWESOME"And we're going to the tavern next door to celebrate our arrival!"
"YEAH!! AT THE TAVERN!!"
A cascade of loud, disorganized exclamations.
Not far from there, some residents grumbled:
"Ugh… Them again."
"Can't these barbarians behave like normal people?"
"Always noisy… it's unbearable."
Khaevar, ashamed, tensed up internally.
"Ugh…"
Why did I have to be a barbarian? I have to deal with a bunch of uncontrollable idiots.
"HEY, KHAEVAR SON OF LOKHZEL, ARE YOU COMING WITH US?" shouted Floki, raising his hand from a group.
"I… I'm coming," he replied, forcing a smile.
A little further away, away from the tumult, a barbarian woman with silvery-white hair, her face hidden under a pale mask and a hooded cloak, watched Khaevar's group move away.
This was the mysterious Valkyrie Dancer, the one who performed the ritual dances during the barbaric rites of passage.
Without moving, she murmured inwardly:
These idiots are going to get lost.
The group sets off to explore the city, purse in hand.
Each new adventurer received 1 silver piece (the equivalent of 10,000 copper pieces) from the tribe to equip themselves. A fortune for beginners.
They started with an armory chosen… completely at random.
"HEY THE GUYS, LOOK THAT HELMET LOOKS LIKE AN IDIOT'S HELMET! HA HA HA!"
"HA HA HA!!" the others sneered.
The owner, nervous, was sweating profusely.
Khaevar sighed inwardly.
Ha… you're the idiot.
A little further on, in an alchemy shop:
Two barbarians get into a fight over a simple article
"GIVE ME BACK THAT POTION, I SAW IT FIRST!"
"NO, IT'S MINE! IF YOU'RE A MAN, TAKE OUT YOUR GUN, WE'LL SETTLE THIS LIKE REAL BARBARIANS!"
"YEAH, FIGHT!"
"Gentlemen, calm down, you're going to break everything!" pleaded the merchant, his heart pounding with fear.
Khaevar rubbed his temples:
If only I could become invisible…
And in a tavern, chosen after a simple game of rock-paper-scissors:
The scene was… chaotic.
Drunken singing, raised arms, and fights would break out at the slightest sideways glance.
"WHAT, YOU WANT MY PHOTO?!"
"COME ON, IF YOU'RE A MAN!"
"FIGHT GENERAL!!"
The tavern keeper, meanwhile, was rubbing his hands together:
"Ah… nothing like a good fight to raise the stakes on the bets."
Khaevar, in despair:
"I want to go home…"
Suddenly, Floki climbed onto a table and yelled:
"HEY THE GUYS! GUYS!!"
The others stopped their commotion for a moment.
"I CHECKED THE TIME… WE'RE LATE FOR THE APPOINTMENT!"
A barbarian chuckled:
"YOU CAN READ THAT THING, DO YOU? HA HA HA… OUCH!"
"Shut up, you idiot!" another one shouted, hitting him on the head.
Damn, I got distracted…thinks Khaevar.
Immediately, they all rushed out of the tavern, stumbling over one another, towards the rallying point. Suddenly, a barbarian woman—for yes, there were not only men in the group—called out sharply:
"Guys… can you tell me exactly where we're going?"
A leaden silence fell over the group. They all lowered their heads with a sheepish look.
"I think we're lost…," one of them murmured.
"Given the time, there's no point in trying to find the rallying point. We might as well-head straight for the Abyss portal. The others must already be there."
"The problem is… we don't know where it is."
It was then that Floki, with his hands on his hips, proudly puffed out his chest:
"DON'T WORRY, FRIENDS! LET ME BE YOUR LEADER, AND I WILL GUIDE YOU TO THE GATE WITH MY BARBARIAN INSTINCT!"
"YEEESSS!! FLOKI! FLOKI! FLOKI!" the others yelled in unison.
A few minutes later…
"Um… guys… I think… I think we're lost."
They all fell back on their heads in a desperate collective thud.
"NOOO!!" cried the barbarians in unison.
"FLOKI IS A BAD LEADER!!"
Floki, devastated, burst into sobs. His tears flowed like waterfalls.
Khaevar, silent, looked at the time on the small, cheap watch he had bought earlier: 11:00 PM. The portal closed five hours after its appearance. So there was only one hour left.
Lost in thought, he sighed:
What possessed me to follow that idiot…
"If we miss the portal, it's over for us… I have no other choice."
He then looked up at the others, took a deep breath, and declared:
"DON'T WORRY, FRIENDS. LET ME BE YOUR NEW LEADER, AND I WILL LEAD YOU TO THE GATE WITH MY BARBARIAN INSTINCT."
"YEEESSS!! KHAEVAR! KHAEVAR! KHAEVAR!" they shouted again, filled with hope.
Luckily, they're far too naive… Khaevar thought, sighing.
Khaevar raised his fist.
All we have to do now is follow the other adventurers. They will lead us to the portal of the Abyss.
"COME ON, FOLLOW ME, FRIENDS!!"
A few minutes later…
"LOOK!! THE GATE IS RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF US!!"
They all began to run, shouting with joy at finally finding their own. Before them, the immense red portal hummed with an ominous energy. Adventurers of all races were already entering, some with valiant hearts, others with trembling eyes.
Enrik, with his arms crossed, greeted them with a relieved smile:
"Ha! Here you are well, you others! We thought you were lost."
Floki, his arm around Khaevar's neck:
"That was the case. But thanks to Khaevar's instinct, we were able to find where the portal was."
"YEEESSS!!" shouted the band of barbarians.
"Khaevar is a true warrior! A born leader," added a barbarian woman, admiringly.
Slightly apart, the hooded Valkyrie Dancer watched in silence. Behind her white mask, it was impossible to read her emotions, but her gaze was fixed on Khaevar.
Enrik resumed, in a solemn tone:
"NOW THAT EVERYONE IS HERE… IT'S TIME. YOU ARE ABOUT TO ENTER THE WORLD OF GREAT MEN. THIS IS WHERE OUR PATHS DIVERGE. SO GOOD LUCK… RETURN IN GLORY… OR DIE WITH HONOR. MAY OUR GODDESS VAYELLA GUIDE YOU ON YOUR JOURNEY.
The barbarians roared with one voice:
"WOO
"VAYELLA!!"
"THE GLORY IS OUR!!"
A sentry, standing near the gate, spoke into a magic megaphone:
"10 MINUTES LEFT BEFORE THE GATE CLOSES!!"
The adventurers began to pass through the arch, one by one, then in small groups. The final moments were passing.
"5 MINUTES LEFT!!"
Khaevar, frozen in front of the glowing red gate, felt his heart pounding wildly.
I am afraid… but I feel… a touch of recklessness. A calling. Danger speaks to me. Ætherion… here I am.
A close-up of his back: weapon in hand, warrior stance. He takes a step forward.
"1 MINUTE LEFT!!"
This portal may lead straight down to the abyss… but it will lead me up to glory.
"30 SECONDS!!"
Then, without a word, Khaevar darted forward, leaping furiously through the portal, just a second before it slammed shut with a dull rumble.
And so begins…
The Rise of Khaevar.
The Rise of the Barbarian.