Some Backstory for SW

Just wanted to give a small sample of how things connect across all of history.

Present Day:
The Serraphima looked out of the window of the control tower, watching the artillery beams landing in the feilds East of Antona, former capital of the Isobel Empire. Angels and demons were mixed together is a melee a mile long, appearing as little more than a wall of black dots from her vantage.

"Commanders from the Western Continent report mild success, while the Southern Continent reports minor territory losses along the Northwest Flank. The Islands of Raark and Shanto are still heavily contested. No significant reports from the expeditionary forces at Almony. Serraphima..."

"Yes commander?"

"We could yield this city and press to the North. It is an option."

"Not one I am prepared to take commander. We have held this city for four million years, I see no reason to walk away today."

"Yes Serraphima."

The Serraphima stretched, her four wings an iconic blue that none of the other Angels shared. They were her right, given to her by their creator. The creator who she had failed only once in defense of this citadel, the creator who she would never fail again.

4.5 Million Years Prior:
Amallee Drath leaned against the door to her dorm in the Elemental's Academy. Her wings cushioned her, but sat just on the edge of her vision.

"I'm not having this discussion, Cherlae."

"I'm just asking, why blue? Why not green or red? You're just bringing up bad memories for everyone with blue."

"And I told you, they aren't dyed, now bugger off."

The tall human woman braced herself against the door to keep her from easy escape. "They were white last week, and now they're blue, sounds like dye to me."

"They were dyed last week!"

The woman gave her a hard stare, trying to tell if she was lying.

"Good night, Cherlae!"

She opened the door wide, almost sending the human woman to her ass. The woman recovered easily and stood up straight, frowning at her. Amallee just slammed the door shut and sunk to the floor holding back tears.

Sixty Years Prior:
Sergeant Jameson moved swiftly in the dark night, carrying his bundle with the utmost care. He ducked from doorway to doorway, avoiding the spotlights that occasionally flooded the street. His heart was beating, but he kept moving, working off his memorized map.

The bundle began to squirm and a blue wing slid out of the cloth. He fixed the cloth quickly, his heart catching in his chest as he prayed silently to Alraa to keep the child silent.

Finally he found the house and walked up to the side entrance. He knocked according to the code, lay the bundle on the step and ran. It was safer for all of them this way.

A Week Prior:
Sergeant Jameson raised his rifle shakily, the solid wall of blue winged men women and children in front of him looked at him and the other men in his unit with pleading eyes. His hands just shook more.

"Ready!"

He could hear the officer in the black uniform talking to the Captain.

"This is a great day for the cause, these are the last."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

"Fire!"

He pulled the trigger as tear rolled down his cheek."

A Hundred Years Prior:
Jessa sat silently on her seat, her dress covered in blood and a small knife in her hand. Thorne walked over to her and took the knife from her grasp easily. He stood, mantling his white wings, and made a pronouncement to the room.

"My father has tragically died in his sleep. With all of my brothers lost in combat, it seems I am now the Emperor. Send a runner to the front, we are to plead an armistice to properly mourn our peacefully departed Emperor."

One person left the room, but everyone else stood motionless.

"LEAVE US!"

Once the room was empty he stood in front of her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She simply sat motionless.

"You will be moved into the country side, far from the front. I want you to raise your child far from here, in peace."

"You knew?"

"Do not mistake me for my father, I am oblivious to nothing. Dark times are coming for my people, and nothing will stop it now. You will be looked after, that I promise."

She simply nodded.

"Be proud, you are the of the line of Isobel and Tsenara. Royalty flows in your blood, blue winged one, never forget that."



Another Hundred Years Prior
Isobel, Duchess of the Southern March, Child of Al-Raab, and now Queen of the Island of Alomani, stood still as her squire secured the leather ties holding her wings. She heard her consort, Tsenara, the Frost Queen of Alomani, walk into the room behind her. The mistress of ice leaned against her back, placing her head firmly between her wings.

"If you do not return with my child, do not return at all."

She shivered, and not from the woman's icy breathe.

"I will tear down the Empire brick by brick if necessary."

The woman behind her moved away as the squire attached the massive breastplate of her armor. Isoble finally turned to look at the woman who was calmly holding the veil, the veil of the killer which she had not worn in almost a year. The womans icy fingers brushed against her cheeks as they attached the veil.

"I want to kill the Emporer myself."

Isobel sighed, then nodded. "Consider it done, my Queen."