Magic

Story by Xclan0

Let me start out saying that this is my second story. I'm 18, so you can be damn sure that I suck at writing. What I lack in skill, I make up for in creativity. This story is going to be pretty short. Or maybe I'll build off of it. I'll take SUGGESTIONS. I'm a full time student, and I have two jobs; so I won't be able to update every day. I hope you guys enjoy this. I know there isn't any sex in this, but feedback about the set up will help me a lot. Chapter 2 will obviously have sex.

My name is Merlin, and this is the story of my travels. It was only the last season that I became an adult. There is no age, we simply go by how many "winters" you've lived through. This will be my 18th winter. I had a family once. We lived in a peaceful kingdom, where it was only winter every other season. There was a king, Uther. He was a feared king, but a king nonetheless. We never faced enemies, or armies. He ruled with an iron fist, publicly executing anyone who practiced magic. It was known that Uther feared magic, and that he sought to destroy it. My family and I lived in that kingdom for many seasons, until the great war. No one remembers much about the war. In fact, no one knows who the enemy was. One day we lived peacefully, with bright skies; the next thing anything remembers is waking up in a ruined kingdom covered in snow. The king and his knights where never found, and after several fortnights, the people gave up hope of raising the kingdom back up. One by one, people fled to surrounding villages, kingdoms, and townships. My family and I were one of the last families to stay.

Mother and father were always the helpful kind, refusing to leave anyone who couldn't make their journey alone. My father used to be a knight of the kingdom, until he decided Uther's methods weren't right. Everyone know my fathers name. He was Sir Adhan, one of the best swordsman in all of lands. I was to be like him one day. My father was a rather tall man, with every bit of muscle to support him. He could wield his two-hander in just one hand. He would often pick my mother up with just one arm and carry her around with him. But then again, my mother was not a big woman. She was only about 5'4", with barely any fat on her. I know it's wrong to describe my mother sexually, but she was a thin woman. Not like the girls I chase after. She had a small chest, and a small butt. But she was my sweet mother, and many men envied my father.

It was on a particularly gloomy day, when the clouds were at their darkest, and the ground was covered in almost a foot of snow that everything changed. I sat at a table with my father, cracking jokes about a village girl I used to have a crush on. My mother was outside with some of the younger girls, teaching them how to weave baskets. The air was still, and not a bird was heard. If it hadn't been for the singing of the young children in the court yard, we might have heard them.

My father was instructing me, more so bragging, about how to use a sword. He was interrupted by a sudden scream. It wasn't the kind of scream that a woman gets when she sees a rat. It was more like a "I'm dying scream", as it was cut off abruptly. My father and I rushed out the door with haste.

The screams multiplied, each getting more fearsome. We reached the courtyard, and stood in shock. More than 2 or 3 dozen bandits had entered the ruins, with many of the bandits making off with children in their arms. I looked at my father, and traced his gaze, leading me to what shocked me most. My mother was being dragged by her arms and legs by a group of sick, disgusting marauders. She kept kicking and flailing until one of them took the hilt of his sword to her head; knocking her out, and drawing blood. My father picked up 3 of his biggest swords that he kept staked in the ground. He threw me one, which I quickly dropped. I used all might to lift up the sword, barely dragging on the ground. Meanwhile my father held one in each hand and ran at the bandits that had my mother.

I ran towards a pretty heavy thug, who was dragging a little girl by her braid. He was laughing and saying such sick things, I dare not repeat them. He was facing away from me, so I was sure I could take him down easily. I swung my sword sideways at the man. It struck him in his calf, clearly tearing his muscle open. But he did not go down. He seemed more angered than hurt. He dropped the girl and charged me. I fell down, under the weight of the man, only to realize he had accidentally speared himself on my sword. He was much heavier than the sword, and I was unsure if I would be able to lift him off of me. I glanced over at my father, who had been cut off. The bandits carried my mother, and several other women. On top of that, they had taken every single child with them. There were clashes of swords all around me, simple farmers, and blacksmiths taking arms ag

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