Lion's Creed
Chapter 1: The Savage
Listen good, my children; this is a story of my past, and it takes place when I was a little whelp, like you, in a village in Africa. We might be in chains now, but free your ears of the shackles of slavery and listen closely. This is a tale of a man called Credo, a brave man, a strong man. Once, not so long ago, there were these two men, strong as lions fighting over territory in the savannahs of the African continent, a man called Credo, and a man called Kha’Jin. But this story begins much earlier, when Credo was still a pup: The air was stale and the sun was scorching the earth as clouds of dust hovered over the grassy plains, and besides the squawking noise of various carrion feeders, everything seemed to be at a halt. There, a blood-gorged pit near a small tribal village; in this arena did, by a trial of blood, boys become true men. And one boy in particular has passed his test, a boy lighter than the others, who was adopted by the Zulus as an infant, when a pack of hyenas attacked and most likely killed his parents. I would know, as my father was the one who found him in the savannah, I was but a boy when Credo passed his test, and I was afraid because he was different. But he grew, and as he grew, he honored the tribe by hard work and dedication, the values that would bring him into the ring of blood in which he now stands. There he is covered in blood, shaking from exhaustion, breathing for his life, the young boy, and above him, a grown man with a spear in one hand, and in the other, a shield decorated with a bloody, zebra’s hide. They know each other, at least the boy knows the man. This is a man deemed to be one of the strongest in the village, a man that can lift a whole wildebeest by himself! With a quick thrust at Credo, the man seemed to have secured his victory-- or so he thought. The boy leapt to the side like a cougar, passion and fear intermixing in his deep, blue eyes to become the most powerful weapon one can ever hope to
Listen good, my children; this is a story of my past, and it takes place when I was a little whelp, like you, in a village in Africa. We might be in chains now, but free your ears of the shackles of slavery and listen closely. This is a tale of a man called Credo, a brave man, a strong man. Once, not so long ago, there were these two men, strong as lions fighting over territory in the savannahs of the African continent, a man called Credo, and a man called Kha’Jin. But this story begins much earlier, when Credo was still a pup: The air was stale and the sun was scorching the earth as clouds of dust hovered over the grassy plains, and besides the squawking noise of various carrion feeders, everything seemed to be at a halt. There, a blood-gorged pit near a small tribal village; in this arena did, by a trial of blood, boys become true men. And one boy in particular has passed his test, a boy lighter than the others, who was adopted by the Zulus as an infant, when a pack of hyenas attacked and most likely killed his parents. I would know, as my father was the one who found him in the savannah, I was but a boy when Credo passed his test, and I was afraid because he was different. But he grew, and as he grew, he honored the tribe by hard work and dedication, the values that would bring him into the ring of blood in which he now stands. There he is covered in blood, shaking from exhaustion, breathing for his life, the young boy, and above him, a grown man with a spear in one hand, and in the other, a shield decorated with a bloody, zebra’s hide. They know each other, at least the boy knows the man. This is a man deemed to be one of the strongest in the village, a man that can lift a whole wildebeest by himself! With a quick thrust at Credo, the man seemed to have secured his victory-- or so he thought. The boy leapt to the side like a cougar, passion and fear intermixing in his deep, blue eyes to become the most powerful weapon one can ever hope to