THORNE OF THE ROOTZ TRIBE
PART ONE - ATLANTEAN
Thorne was born into a life of battle and conquest. Raised in the fighting pits of Atlantis, he was orphaned at a young age and left to fend for himself. But Thorne's instinct for survival was strong, and he quickly became known for his strength and skill in combat. He became a Knight of Atlantis, lauded as a protector of the realm! But the constant wars and conflicts he faced left him feeling hollow and empty.
On what would be his final mission as a Knight, Thorne was sent to quell a rebellion that had sprung up in the lower districts of Atlantis. He travelled on foot, walking through the city's golden streets until he reached the slums. There, the people he encountered were dressed in tattered clothes, and many of them fled or hid as Thorne approached. The image of a protector held no meaning in this place, instead Thorne was seen as a monster marching into their home.
Thorne walked slowly through the narrow streets, his armour clinking with each step.
Turning a corner, he was confronted by a group of men. Each holding a weapon and wearing black leather. They were a rough-looking bunch, with hard faces and bodies that bore the scars of street fights and labour. Tattoos of animals and skulls adorned their skin.
"Stand down," Thorne commanded, his voice echoing through the alleyway. "I am here on the orders of the King. Surrender now."
The men sneered at Thorne, their hands tightening on their weapons. "We don't take orders from anyone, especially not a tin can like you" one of them spat. "We will fight for our freedom, no matter the cost."
Thorne sighed, knowing that he would not be able to talk his way out of this situation. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to cut down whomever dared approach first.
But before steel could meet flesh, a voice called out from behind the men. "Hold! I am the one you seek." The men stepped to the side revealing a man in his mid-thirties, his face lined with a calm determination. He was much more put together than the men in front of him. His skin untarnished, and his eyes peaceful.
"I surrender myself to you, Knight," the man said, holding out his hands. "But I ask you. Spare these people. No violence need take place here today."
Thorne looked at the man, considering his words. He knew that the King would expect him to make an example of the rebellion, to show the people that dissent would not be tolerated. But something about this man's words touched deep into his soul.
"I..."
"I will spare your followers," Thorne said, his voice deep and sorrowful. "But the King will decide your fate."
The man nodded, a look of relief passing over his face. "I accept my punishment," he said. "I am just one man. And when you cut me down the idea of me will live in the minds of thousands" He spoke with confidence, his words almost prophetic.
Thorne escorted the man back to the palace, the weight of the decision he just made heavy on his mind... He had always followed orders without question, but for the first time he had let his own morals guide him. He wasn't sure if it was the right choice, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was.
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