Artura

## Overview

The nose curling smell of rotting corpses wafted through the poorly made snow swept wooden villages as steel weaponry clashed in explosions of sparks. Thousands of warriors in plate armor screamed in an angered war cry, charging forth to defend their tiny towns from attacking clans. This war-torn collection of nations struggled to even grow enough food for their dwindling population of commoners. Even the most experienced steel-smiths barely get enough money to sustain themselves, let alone a family. With so much fear and famine, barely any nation has been able to progress past the bronze age. Steel is a rare commodity due to the supreme lack of economical movement.

## History

The rocky planet of Artura violently swung around the High-Warlock, being soaked in the blessed red light of its galaxy’s creator. The countless minerals and stones looked up to the glowing sky and basked in the blinding rays. Pseudo-Pylons dotted the planet plentifully, caused by the abundant magic drops routinely rained on Artura’s surface in this era. Just as the planet orbited away from the High-Warlock, an incredibly rare shard of its bones spun into the oxygen rich atmosphere. This beautiful piece of Sinister combined with the innate magic of Artura birthed a thaumaturgic spirit known as Viviane, the lady of the lake.

Arthur, a starved member of the Iaro race, pulled the dry, rotted crops from the infertile soil beneath his leather covered feet. Ash rained like light snow as the clashing sound of breaking wood and burning steel echoed from the black horizon. His stomach stung as if it was eating itself. The cold darkness of the night mixed with the hot wind from in the east rubbed Arthur’s pale blue nose raw. He looked back at his roofless house. His mother sat on a piece of bloodied rubble, her foot infected and bloated with green pus. His vision slowly shifted to the crooked tower by on the hill at the edge of town. He remembered him and his friends used to be deathly afraid of the rotting blue door that the tower wore. It was rumored that a powerful wizard lived there, casting incantations over a solid steel cauldron. It was a more tame time back then; nothing else to worry about but stories.

Arthur’s shivering shoulders sank as fatigue dried his throat. The abyssal sky of Artura seemed to pulsate, as if calling for help. A beacon of light arose from the only body of water in sight. Although it was very visible, it was a long journey. The light only got brighter as he turned away; the calling pillar only grew lighter. What did it want? Maybe it was just his body’s way of telling him it needed water. Arthur’s shivering legs forced themselves in the direction of the shrinking lake. He was tired and on the verge of giving up on everything, though a drink of water before he died couldn’t hurt. It felt like his dry throat was killing him faster than the frostbite after all. As he approached the remaining bits of the communal lake, a voice seemed to speak to him. It tickled his ear but he knew not of what it said. The poorly made leather wraps around his feet shuffled in the silt as he finally made it to the pool. He dropped to his knees, the silt moving aside at the application of his body’s weight. Arthur hunched over the murky pool as his reflection came into view. A damp light stirred his mirror, prompting him to slide back with caution. A pale white hand with rocky blue scales raised itself from the fishless pool holding a semi-transparent black crystal.

* “Young man. Please consume my treasure. The water of this lake is dissipating, I cannot protect my treasure by myself anymore,” A melancholic woman’s voice echoed through Arthur’s skull as she offered the black mineral to him.

Fueled by hunger, Arthur dove into the shallow water, mindlessly eating the rock from the seemingly bodiless arm. It felt like something changed in him at that moment. His wounds began to tickle as if his cells were wriggling with a newfound energy. His heavy eyelids slid down his dry eyeballs as his consciousness was consumed by blackness.

Arthur awoke, his face muddied from laying in the insect egg infested waters. His joints felt lighter and the stinging pain coming from the tears in his flesh was no longer present. As he waved his arm, he could feel small pockets of material underneath him. It was as if his nerves stretched through the very planet itself. As he lifted his hands upward, spherical droplets of metal in liquid form popped out from the silt around him. But this metal wasn’t white hot like it should be. It looked like polished silver yet it was like water. Was this magic?

With his replenished energy, Arthur sprinted up the dirt path back to his famine stricken village. He darted past his groaning mother and slammed his fist against the supposed wizard’s door.

* “Wizard! You know about magic right? I’ve been blessed! The water blessed me with liquid metal void of heat!” Arthur called.

A shriveled old man with skin tags on his skin tags opened the door. His hunched back allowed his long gray beard to tap the floor as he spoke.

* “Magic you say?”

Arthur nodded and pulled a ball of this heatless liquid metal out of the dry ground beneath them. The old man smiled so hard his lazy eye snapped back into place for a moment. He ushered Arthur into the dimly lit and confined tower.

* “Boy. That liquid metal you speak of is called mercury. I don’t know much about it, but the way you obtained your ability is quite similar to a prophecy that I have devised,” The elderly individual spoke, his vocal cords tripping over themselves like a three legged donkey.

Arthur was taken aback by the “Wizard”. He was not intimidating and he did not seem powerful. In hindsight, it is odd that Arthur and his friends were struck by fear whenever they so much as laid an eye on this poorly constructed tower.

* “M’boy! Lookie here!” The Wizard held up an ancient parchment which had scribbled notes and textures on it.
* “Um. Sir, I can’t read.”
* “Are you blind? It isn’t writing. It is a diagram that shows a warrior who drinks water and becomes enlightened! Presumably they go on to accomplish great things. Perhaps end the countless wars for territory!” the old man continued.

Arthur scrunched his nose arch as he squinted at the paper before him. There was not a single recognizable figure in the mess of charcoal. Even the old man’s spoken description of what the “picture” was, could be interpreted as a man contracting cholera from drinking murky water.

* “So uh, what do I do?” Arthur asked, riddled with more confusion than when he had arrived at the tower.
* “Use your ability to end the wars! You don’t have anything better to do, do you?”

Although Arthur wasn’t necessarily battle ready, the old man had a point. There wasn’t anything else to do. He could sit around and watch his village die off in every imaginable way, or he could use his confusing new abilities to potentially put a stop to the endless wars raging on.

* “Remember me as Merlin, Kiddo. And here. This may help along the way. I call it my fire spell!!!! Or, Excalibur,” the wrinkly old sorcerer handed Arthur a glowing orange stone.

The crystal seemed to contain tingly energies within. It was warm to the touch, like a newly lit candle. It rolled around in his hand, shaking slightly before Arthur set it in his pocket. Maybe this strange old man wasn’t a fraud.

* “Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur nodded before exiting the moldy tower.

For some reason, Arthur was absolutely determined to pull his village out of famine and stop the global war that laid waste to the horizon. He is clearly the only one with the will to try.

Arthur’s seemingly infinite energy continued to fuel both him and his determination as he sprinted through the fog of ash ahead of him. The sound of screeching and battle cries got loud enough to beat against his heart as he approached. Metal clashed against each other, the whistle from arrows sang like screaming angels and the wet sound of exposed pulsing arteries splashed on the ground. Arthur’s jaw dropped as his legs locked themselves in place. The harsh light from burning bodies reflected off of his fearful eyes as metal swords tore through the weak torsos of warriors. Arthur fell backwards, coughing as boiling blood fell onto his tongue. He looked at his hands, dirt was glued to them, using blood as an adhesive. He abruptly looked up as a man raised his sword to strike him down. The warrior seemed to be as scared as Arthur was at that moment. As the sword came down, as if the world didn’t want him to die, lightning struck the attacker, causing him to fly backwards into the animalistic war front. Arthur looked up to see Merlin. He seemed way more nimble than he should be for a senior citizen.

* “Boy! Run! I will hold them off until you are ready to attack back!” Merlin shouted, removing glowing crystals from his wrinkly skin flaps.

Arthur began anxiously crawling away, fear ruining his sense of balance. Arcs of lightning, fire and light shot from Merlin’s magical stones, biting through the rushing crowd of adrenaline filled warriors.

He looked back at the old man as his legs and arms shivered. Merlin cackled, swinging ropes of arced electricity through the cold air like whips. Arthur finally gained the strength to run away, cowardice aching his previously determined heart. He turned back one last time to see the horde of warriors slash through Merlin’s sickly body. Arthur coughed, tears falling down his red cheeks. His throat dried as he shouted. His torn leather foot wraps shuffled across the snow before he stumbled behind a rock. His torso jerked as he continued to take violent and abrupt gasps for air.

* “Arthur,” a woman’s voice said.

Arthur deafetedly shifted his head to his side. He looked at the puddle of blood beside him. Within the redness, a pale woman’s reflection gazed at him. It was the woman who first gave him the crystal at the lake.

* “What,” Arthur groaned, his lips bled from the cold.
* “Merlin would want you to fight, wouldn’t he? You will die if you stay here.”
* “Merlin died because of me. I don’t know why I thought I could do it. I’m just a farmer,” Arthur coughed, his forehead tapping the icy dirt on the floor.
* “Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you want to fight the men who killed him? Don’t you want to murder the people who ordered this needless battle?” the woman asked, her toe getting loader.
* “I do.”
* “Well, do it. Merlin didn’t die to let you cry on the floor. Did he?”
* “No. But– Why do you want to help me?” Arthur mumbled.
* “I don’t. I just don’t want you to die since you ate my most prized possession,” the lady spoke.

The woman’s white arm exited the pool of blood, presenting a dirty steel sword to Arthur. It looked rusty but strong all the same.

* “Fight. Your village is starving. Merlin killed himself to protect you. Your planet is dying. Remember those three phrases as you march back to the battlefield,” the lady in the pool of blood commanded.

Arthur hesitantly took the blade before the arm retracted back into the red liquid. His heart pounded as he nodded to the woman. He forced himself off the ash covered ground, wielding the sword that was gifted to him. He turned to the battlefield in the distance, it continued to rage on with no sign of stopping.

* “Remember what I said, Arthur,” the reflection said, fading into the liquid on the floor.
* “R– Right,” Arthur nodded, gripping his weapon tighter.

The crystal within his pocket seemed to jitter around in his pocket as he began speeding up towards the ashen field ahead. His legs lifted off the bloodied ground more and more before he realized that he was making a full sprint towards the ocean of attacking soldiers. Like a magnet to a ball of iron, the gem named Excalibur tore through his cloth pocket and into the hilt of his weapon, causing the blade to explode into flame. As the long sword turned white hot with fire, he heard the lady in the lake scream the word "Excalibur" through all nearby puddles and droplets of blood. The battle froze in fear at the sudden screech before quickly shifting their fear to Arthur. His long strides and wide swings carried the weight of Merlin's death and the Lady's words, tearing through the pointless mass of flesh that commoners called "war". Droplets of mercury dashed through countless warriors like liquid bullets as Arthur continued his red onslaught. Boiling red liquid splashed onto the soot coated skin of the other knights and archers as Arthur's flaming blade dug through the crowd. Images of his dying mother flashed behind his foggy pupils as the horizon-wide war cry quickly changed into cries of terror and screams of pain. This metal that he had control over; he looked around and realized that it was not just any liquid metal. This "mercury" was poison. Warriors began having seizures and vomiting a wildly unhealthy amount. It looked like it was worse than the plague or any infection he had ever seen. The army began to look like they weren't even supposed to be there. The people that weren't dead or on the floor vomiting looked confused. Thousands of people hunched over, clutching their stomachs as blood poured from their yellowed teeth and gums.

A small man that waved a white flag on a horse cautiously approached the fury-filled Arthur. He was deathly afraid.

* "Sir. All kingdoms surrender. After a considerable amount of discussion, they say that you can name your price for a treaty and they will provide it," the tiny man spoke.
* Arthur stopped for a moment to think of his mother and Merlin once more before turning back to the messenger, "No need to call me sir. It's king; King Arthur. Tell them that I want all of their kingdoms. And ask them to get medicine prepared. I have someone that needs it."