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located in The Skycity of Revelation, a part of Revelation: The Cure, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Skycity of Revelation

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It had taken several days before Danterus even awoke from his near-death coma, and when he did he wished that he had not. Despite all the best efforts into healing his broken body the damage had been too extensive to regenerate fully, and even with the aid of magic there were just some things that would not mend. Looking down upon his shattered legs and deformed arms sent a wave of despair through his heart. He could use his hands and arms, albeit not to quite the same extent as before the tragedy, yet they were misshapen with various lumps and welts dotting their length as if he had been assailed by bees or ants.

When he was finally able to get out of bed and travel around with the aid of a wheelchair he knew it was time for the funeral. After the news had arrived that his father was murdered by Gilgamesh’s treacherous ploy at the trial Danterus really had no idea what to do, but luckily Nethanial had made the funeral arrangements whilst he was incapacitated. It had been a rather moderate affair seeing as how the Manor was still in need of repairs, but despite its lack of lavishness many noblemen and prosperous guildsmen had arrived to give their blessings.

Garbiel had been a well-liked man amongst the aristocracy, and everyone seemed to want to tell Danterus just that and how they would support him during his time of need. His father had only been one man though, and he knew many more people had died that day who were better, kinder, and gentler human beings. He doubted they would offer their help to any of the lower-born citizens though, and the very thought made him sick.

Despite his overall malaise the young smith still found the resolve to visit the other funerals, but in truth they all passed by in a blur. He knew there was one for Gilgamesh, and he had rather blatantly spit on the masks casket without a care to what anyone else though, another had been for the Queen Minerva, and the final one he had attended was for Pandora. The sweet, innocent girl that had altered his entire view of mages had passed away saving lives. He felt a wave of disgust that such a good person had died while a foolish, impatient, belligerent child such as himself had. The gods do make a mockery of life with their insane japes.

Later on that evening Danterus sat quietly in his wheelchair in the apartment he was still occupying whilst the Forgefire Manor was under reconstruction, and the moon even hid itself on this somber evening. He was a broken child in body, mind, and soul, and he had no idea what to do with himself. His father was murdered and that left him to continue the Forgefire line. He was not even a blood-line heir though, merely an orphan who had been given a second chance at life, but he had squandered that chance. His hands carefully worked the rope in his hands, tying a most peculiar knot near its free end, and it formed a loop that he tried the strength to by tying it around his wrist and tugging it securely.

The young man stopped for a moment to ponder what he was considering... Had he really gone so far yet to not turn back? What was it that Pandora's epitatph had said? True courage is not the absence of fear, but facing it with all your might. He pondered that line for several minutes before finally undoing the the rope and tossing it to the ground. If mistakes had been made then he would rectify them and seek forgiveness for his sins, and the only way to go from the bottom was up...