Crimson Flame

Destiny splits before me into two unrelated, straight lines: 
one leading to a palace and city ablaze, the Kingdom overthrown, the Earth bearing suffering, and Life enduring torment in this Fire.
And the other leading to the pinnacle of Ancient Kings, where deities in the clouds personally crown me. I don the laurel wreath, basking in the cheers of the mountain. My gaze pierces through the mists of history, my Knights conquer lands for me, my Sword cleaves through obstacles, leading my people to victory.

I take up this Scepter, holding the Authority of the World in my hands. I overlook the multitude, altering the course of history.

I am Brand, King of Vorn, and this is my Legendary tale.

.........................

Plain version synopsis: This is a story about a Senior Warrior with memories of rebirth, crossing back into the World he once fought for to alter the strands of history and make a mark in the sands of time.

Amber Sword

The ferret-faced Guard Captain gave them a few cold threats after sending them here and then left, which made Frey grind her teeth in anger. But Brand was unhurried. He sat alone in the dark, observing the small space through the faint light of a distant torch—this should be the second floor of the dungeon beneath the barracks. There were thirty-two cells on this floor, with four prison guards, all Light Infantry from the 104th Swordsmen of the White Mane Legion.


Who hasn't had a red name PK while playing games before? Ridenburg's dungeon wasn't new to him; he'd been here before. In the eyes of NPCs, players were a lawless bunch. Thinking of this, Brand couldn't help but chuckle.


He took out a Black Ebony Stone Statue from his bosom and gently stroked it. The crack on it was now almost imperceptible. Then he turned his head and asked the dark opposite side, "Frey, Romantic, how are you guys holding up?"


Revision: Act 43 Isn't it the Highland Knight?