The Nebby 27

100 years after the miners of Nemract wrought the nether curse upon the Wynn province, Ragni suffered one of the largest raids ever recorded on western soil, although the famous forts of Ragni and Troms were deemed impenetrable, this was unfortunately not the case when seas of monsters brought by the curse came knocking on the front gate. Being so early in the cursed war, Ragni’s army numbers were high and many a men laid down their lives to protect the families within the walls. However, the sheer numbers pressed against the door broke the hinges and the large gate fell into the bridge, and the largest horde recorded entered the city. Many of the residents were slaughtered, maimed or infected by the onslaught of creatures, those able to run hid in the sewers, a vast series of tunnels that run out of the city, and into the foulest place the humans could create, their prison. The idea was to combine two of the most horrible things, the untreated sewage, and the dark cells containing Wynn's worst criminals, to add to their suffering. It really was a horrid place, but in a time like this, it was the safest place to be, and the women and children sought refuge in its stench. During the fight, a woman who never said her name, nor where she had come from (she certainly wasn’t one of Ragni’s own) gave birth to a baby boy on the cold floors of the sewer. Though the women accompanying her did all they could, the unknown woman did not survive the childbirth. The horde lasted 6 days and the sewer folk did not know if the baby would make it, the conditions were so rotten.


Against all the odds, the child made it, suffering no more but a smudge of dirt across his cheek, to everyone’s amazement. He was adopted by Ragni’s poorest resident, a single mother named Momo. She worked in a local bakery carrying bread and cake into the palace, taking whatever she could get away with. Despite his mother being poor, she was none the less intelligent, and taught the child, who she named Nebur, everything she knew. She taught him to read, write, and, to a degree, to fight. Nebur was never a popular lad, always treated differently. His skin was a shade of grey unnatural to those of Ragni, who have always been fair-skinned, as such he didn’t have many friends and wasn’t held particularly well among the older citizens either. When he was 12 years old, a horde found its way into the city once more, like it did just over a decade before. Although far smaller than it's predecessor, it was none the less a threat as Ragni’s army was so wounded from the last encounter, the beacons were not lit from the scouts, and caught the entire city by surprise. Not Nebur though, he always keeps a knife he stole from the butchers in his belt to protect the ones he loved. Being so poor, Momo's shack was on the outskirts of Ragni and was one of the first to get hit, Nebur ran for the house, finding it empty, but hearing a gasping from below. Entering the cellar, he found his mother lying bleeding beside a recently stabbed creature. He went to her aid, knowing it would be in vain. She simply nodded at him, they had made an agreement when Nebur was 8 years old that if she ever became infected she wanted him to end her life, rather than endure the gruesome prolonged infection that had no cure. She placed in his hands a piece of parchment with a crude blood stained drawing of 4 areas each with a strange name under it he hadn’t heard of. She then pointed toward a chest in the corner that had always been locked before she grabbed his hand holding the butcher’s knife, to which she forced him to uphold his end of the agreement.


In the fires of the fight, Nebur fled from the city, wielding not his butcher’s knife, but a pair of pitch black knives encrusted with symbols that glowed a purple colour, a cloak and a pouch holding what little food was left in the house. He headed east, to the sandy area indicated by his mother’s drawing, the one with the knife symbol, and the number “1." When Nebur reached it, he found one man, who did nothing but held out his hand, and Nebur placed the only thing of value to him, the dark daggers in his hand. The man began to tell Nebur of what he must now do to aid in the war; He must travel to the 4 masters of the Wynn province, to learn their magic and skill if he is to lend his hand in the cursed war. Only once he had mastered one skill would he be given the key that the next master would accept. After 5 years of training to become an assassin, Nebur was now 17 years old and incredibly powerful. The master, Chak, who had taught him, told him his time was now up with him and he would have to progress to learn archery. Chak took Nebur’s daggers, to which the handles began to glow bright and moulded together to form a large sheen bow, to which he strung a thick strand of his own hair and handed it back to him, and said “even the most experienced soldier must start from scratch when learning a new mastery." It was true, Nebur was not equipped to deal with any creature that faced him, he’d never even fired a bow!


Nebur began his journey further south; Past the blizzards into a pocket of land he’d never seen on any map, the bow symbol with the number “2” accompanying it. It was home to only one building, a large mansion, to which a man stood with his hands outstretched as Nebur approached. Just like 5 years previous, Nebur handed him the bow, to which he said “I am Mael, master of archery. Let us begin. Just as you progress, as does the war.” To which Nebur spent a further 5 years mastering the art of crafting and firing arrows, in any situation and learning the magic surrounding the bow. In this time, Nebur also learnt about the areas he trained in. Mael was incredibly spiritual; the mansion in which he lived in was also house to many spirits which found Mael to heal them. Nebur learnt about the other side and how many of the fallen soldiers return cursed to fight on the other side, to which Nebur secretly hoped he was able to communicate with his deceased mother. However, Nebur never expressed these desires, and Mael told him the time had come to learn some magic that involved no physical weapon that you could hit people with. Nebur handed over his bow, to which a familiar glow transformed it into a pure black rod, with the same purple markings around them. Nebur looked at the old, frayed map, to see the next area with a single line in it, and the number “3." Except this time, he knew what area that was. It was the forest he passed through when he was 12 years old to get to the desert to begin his training, he barely made it. For the first time since he began his training, Nebur was filled with fear. The forest was full of spiders and poison, and the thought of poison always reminded him of the time he… Well never mind that. Nebur set off to the forest wielding a stick that was about as much use as a hollowed out pumpkin. He couldn’t for the life of him make it work, regardless, when he reached the forest, he entered a mystical village suspended in the trees lit by hanging lamps, to which the familiar sight of a man with his hand outstretched. He grasped the wand Nebur laid in his hand. “You are half way through your journey, do not let frustration warp you, let us begin the hardest of all arts.” These were the first words, Ethe, the magical master had ever said to him, and it was certainly true, wand lore had not come so easily to him as knavery or archery had. However, the arts of magic eventually flowed through him over the coming 5 years, to which point Nebur was now 27 years old and beginning to wonder if he would ever remain young enough to fight in the war. Ethe told Nebur it was time to move on, and transformed his wand into it's final form, a giant black spear, even his mature eyes gleamed at the sight of it. The spear was the weapon of Troms, the greatest fort man had ever created.


The map indicated it; he must travel to Troms, where the last symbol and the number “4” were written. Upon arrival, Nebur was surprised, the city had been hit – hard. He’d never heard of Troms so much as receiving a scratch from the creatures, it was so well guarded. But then again, Nebur had been absent from civilization for 15 years. In the fires, a man stood with his hand out stretched, completely ignoring the pleads of the people around him begging for help, to which Nebur placed his spear, and the man said “This is the final leg of your journey, let the plights of this town that you see here today force you onward with your training, and help protect this land when you are done. My name is Fier, Let us end your training.” Nebur spent the next 5 years learning the skills surrounding the spear in the great city of Troms, rebuilding and defending it when necessary in his spare time. It was the first time he was with people, and by people, I mean people that aren’t strict masters of their art that seem to solely exist to teach Nebur the ways of the soldier. Nebur learnt to love the people he was around, and people called him The Nebby 27, rather than Nebur, a girl told him “I don’t know, I think you just sound better when you’re called The Nebby 27.” Nebur liked it, and when he met new people, he introduced himself as thus. Fier’s training, after 5 long years, had finally come to an end, to which he said this: “You are now the strongest soldier this province has ever seen, use your power wisely, and you shall end this war.” Then, to his surprise, all the masters materialized in a line beside Fier, and smiled, Mael even nodding slowly at him, to which a voice behind him said “Why are you crying The Nebby 27? There’s no one there…” The 4 masters vanished and The Nebby 27 knew what he must now do. Return to Ragni to save what little is left of it.


The Nebby 27 then spent the remainder of his life serving as Wynn's private demigod, destroying all creatures that ever came near a settlement under his protection, never passing on his skills, in fear they would not be used for the greater good, which troubled him, for if he were to pass, who would replace him? Certainly not his 3 companions, the animals which he loved dearly, perhaps he would brew them a potion, prolonging their life; they were good animals after all. The Nebby 27's story quickly became a huge beacon of hope for many fighting the war; no one could defeat The Nebby 27 and his dark weapons. However people, this is where the story becomes myth I’m afraid, for after the events of Ragni’s 56th horde, some 40 years down the line at the ripe old age of 72, The Nebby 27 vanished. It was rumoured he heard of a beast corrupting the province, promoting the war and increasing the strength of the monsters, I imagine The Nebby 27 probably sought to destroy it, but in his old age, perhaps he wasn’t up to the mark. It was then, though, just one year after his disappearance, The Nebby 27s tomb appeared in the snow, marking the place where he was buried. By whom? No one knows. Perhaps it was the killer? Or maybe it was his master’s magic? It still lies there today, holding his body, it is worth a visit, many have told of great adventures and magic surrounding the place. One thing is for sure, The Nebby 27 truly was the master of the Wynn arts, and will forever go down in our history as the mightiest soldier, perhaps one day; you can follow in his footsteps.

@12nebur27

 

Praise @12nebur27

 

oh my fucking god.. uhm hold on a sec i need to read this .______________________________________________.

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well what on earth... how much caffeine lack of sleep and other insanity inflicted on you by Poke (whom i blame) was necessarry for you to edit grains story and make me a legend °O° i think this was the first time i ever laughed out loud and almost fell from my chair by a forums post ._____________. (other than duck.exe stopped working)

 

More are coming
Mabye

 

oh god ;-; if you guys keep this up i ll not only be an urban legend but also a meme D:

 

oh yes

 

What the actual what.

 

Take a look at @12nebur27 's profile page

 

basically they are turning me into a huge meme x)