SonicOCs

The King was dying. But this was not a cause for mourning but an opportunity for celebration, as had been tradition for over 500 years. As he sat in his wheelchair over the capital city’s square, his citizens cheered and waved their flags and banners bearing his name and image. Reminders of when he was youthful and strong, instead of the ragged and elderly figure, with tubes in his nose and a blanket over his weak legs that he had grown to become. But he wasn’t there to lament what he had lost, this was the moment to celebrate the future, and only tears of joy ran down his cheek. They rolled off his skin and splashed onto the large sword lying across his lap. Songs were sung about the King’s long history. Using the very sword to protect the kingdom and slay the enemies trying to break her walls down and harm her people. Memories of the King’s valiant nature and bravery fighting back the darkness filled the heads of those old enough to remember firsthand. Those who were told stories