Lancer Thunderstride

This will be VERY EXTENSIVE, for no good reason. At the same time, pretty rushed because ... eh Lancer was a child raised in a war raging country, surrounded by destruction and hate from all parties of a war he knew nothing of. Born in the once-bright kingdom of Dominus, he was raised by loving parents, who gave him all the love and attention he needed even though their lives were hanging by the thread each passing day. Few citizens remember why the war even started, it goes back decades before most of younger ones were even born. Generations of former citizens turned revolutionaries fought against the kingdom's main army for longer than most can remember, brutal clashes left thousands of causalities, every day new reports of attacks on both parties enraged the masses, some convinced to fight alongside the revolutionaries to end the monarchy, others volunteered to join the forces to end this threat to their system. Two raging forces with continuously growing power, with no way of eclipsing each other, only one remained the victim: The commoner. The folks who lives in a village far away from the main city, the less unfortunate resulted by the king's poor management, were seen as nothing as land to expand one of the party's influence. The rebels were as brutal as they claimed the king to be, any village that refused to acknowledge their ideology was silence with violence, exiled from Dominus, or worse. The limited resources of the king in terms of military power made it impossible for him to protect all the villages and towns too far away from the castle, they had no choice to allow the revolutionary army to install their bases in poor folk's lives, and watch as they're forced to obey. Lancer was one of the several unfortunate ponies born in a unfavorable village conquered by the revolution, at constant risk of being used as an example as his village homed of the most rejecting citizens the revolution has ever seen. Their attitude towards the revolutionaries was not kind at all, but they did not resist their influence, most thinking about the children that lived in the village. So for many years, Lancer had to live his own personal hell, no one was allowed to be on the streets for more than one hour, food was scarce, and most parents would give up lunch to buy their child's dinner, so even the mightiest stallions became almost anorexic from starvation. A perfect way of maintaining control and not allowing for any to rebel against the revolutionaries themselves. The king was virtually powerless to help, he was already dealing with constant protests of sympathizers of the revolutionary army in the main cities, attacks from powerful wizards of his opponents, cities nearby that were threatened to be conquered. The king had no choice but to resort to the most aggressive strategy available, he had no other choice at this point. Commanding his soldiers, he took a similar route to the revolutionaries themselves, and arrested the protesters with violence, cornering them and immediately taking control over the main city. Now, his plan was to adept to a simple mindset, what the kingdom needs now is strength, he vouched for a nation that was based purely on power, as that is the only way to truly eradicate the rebels that tormented the citizens for generations. A war of attrition was destined to turn into a full blown massacre if either side gets the upper hand, and the king was determined to be the one who ultimately gets it. His speeches found overwhelming support across the nation, the cities still protected by the Royal Knights roared in absolute bliss for the king's decision - even a few of the revolutionary-dominated villages expressed their support. But as it turns out, it was a grave mistake. To say what followed was one of the most violent assaults ponekind has ever seen would be an understatement, the overwhelming force of the revolutionary army crushed without mercy every and single one of the villages they held captive that dared to show their support to the king. There was nothing they could've done to stop it. But as they were made an example of, this act of sacrificed was recognized by the grater majority of other oppressed villages. Learning from their former comrades mistakes, they silently formed their own guerrilla strongholds, indoctrinating their children to learn how to fight and defend themselves, Lancer was one of the few that received such training. But they all knew this would not be enough to defeat even the few of military army left by the revolution, but still, they had to try. In the dead of night, under the cloak of darkness, the citizens of Lancer's village gathered in the hidden underground meeting place. Their goal was clear: to disrupt the revolutionary military force's communications and create confusion among their ranks. The villagers had studied the enemy's routines and had devised a multifaceted plan to achieve this. The older ponies, knowledgeable in the village's terrain and architecture, led the effort. They repurposed the abandoned mineshafts that ran beneath the village. Using these tunnels, they moved undetected, planting makeshift explosive devices crafted from agricultural chemicals and stolen revolutionary supplies. These devices were strategically placed near key communication lines and outposts. By the time the revolutionaries realized their communications were compromised, it would be too late to reorganize. The younger ponies, including Lancer, showed remarkable bravery and ingenuity. They used their small size and agility to navigate through tight spaces and avoid detection. They climbed rooftops and scaled walls to plant jamming devices and relay false signals. Their parents watched with a mix of pride and dread, knowing the risks their children were taking. Despite their efforts, the revolutionaries eventually discovered the sabotage. Enraged and desperate to reassert control, they launched a brutal counterattack. The village was overwhelmed; parents fought valiantly but were no match for the trained soldiers. The revolutionaries showed no mercy, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. Families were torn apart, and the ground ran red... Lancer found himself face-to-face with a towering revolutionary soldier. The soldier, a hulking brute with a scarred face, swung his weapon with ruthless efficiency. Lancer, though smaller and weaker, dodged and parried with surprising skill. Each blow he received was met with a fierce determination to survive. He was knocked down repeatedly, but each time, he rose again... and again, and again... his injuries multiplying each time against the unscathed soldier. As Lancer fought, he saw the revolutionaries slaughtering his friends. The young ponies he had trained with, those who had shared his dreams of freedom, fell one by one. The sight was unbearable. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt... His heart ached with helplessness. The cries of the victims and the stench of the fallen filled the air, a gruesome symphony of war's cruelty. Exhausted and beaten, Lancer could barely stand. The revolutionary soldier raised his weapon for the final blow. Lancer closed his eyes, bracing for the end... This was it, everything he invested, all the time he trained, for nothing, a future flower that never had the chance to flourish, cut down as a simple seed. He heard the swish of the blade cutting through the air and then, unexpectedly, a metallic clang. The sound of a blade breaking. ... Lancer`s ears ringed a high pitch, as the sound of his heart drummed inside his own head. Adrenaline drenching his senses, his breathing heavy, each breath felt like a stab... But still, he was alive? Slowly, he opened his eyes, as reality came back to him, and the background noise of trotting metal hooves and blades swinging were allowed to come to his sense, and hope filled his heart once again...! The revolutionary soldier lay defeated, his weapon shattered. Surrounding him were the Royal Knights, their gleaming armor reflecting the dawn's light. At the forefront was the king himself, a figure of regal strength and determination. The Royal Knights, a well-trained and formidable force, swiftly defeated the remaining revolutionaries. They moved with precision and discipline, cutting down the enemy with ease. The king's presence inspired... no one, there was no one there to see him thrive against the revolutionaries. The only ones inspired were Lancer, and those who would hear of his act right here in the following days... Lancer's village was reclaimed, but it seemed too late. As the battle concluded, the king moved away from Lancer, the knights coming to take him to the city. "Please...!!" said Lancer, kneeling on the ground, his head against the soil, his snout pressed against the ground, and a waterfall of tears on his face... "I'll do anything... Please let me become a soldier." The King, who along with his knights, was moving away from him with slow steps after defeating the revolutionaries who destroyed this village, turned for a moment, "Who is this?" in a curious tone. "He seems to be one of the survivors of the attack, Majesty," said one of his many royal knights. The King looked at the child with his face against the ground, crying for a chance. The wind blew between them as silence filled the dead silent ambient. "Please... I promise... I promise to dedicate my life to being the best...," Lancer raised his face, not with the expression of a frightened child. His blue eyes had a certain fire that sent chills to the King's eyes... The tears now filled with frustration and anger. The King asked the obvious question, for which he already had the answer... "And why do you think you'll make a difference...?" Without hesitation, he replied, "I don't want anyone to feel that ever again," simple and objective... The King gave a single scoff and turned his back... Lancer looked at him with a certain despair. But soon the King said, "Are you coming or not?"... Lancer's eyes filled with brightness... Soon a longing for tears, which he soon wiped with his hooves, before rising desperate and going right after him... Lancer accompanied the king and his knights back to the main castle.  The grandeur of the castle, with its towering spires and imposing walls, was a stark contrast to the humble remains of his village. As they approached, Lancer felt a mix of awe and intimidation. This would be his new home, the place where he would transform his grief and anger into power. Upon arrival, the king wasted no time in putting Lancer through a grueling training regime. The regimen was designed to push Lancer to his absolute limits, both physically and mentally. Each day began before dawn with a series of intense physical exercises that left Lancer's muscles screaming in protest. He ran through obstacle courses that mimicked battlefield conditions, scaled sheer walls, and navigated through mazes filled with traps. The training also included combat drills with seasoned knights, where Lancer was often pitted against multiple opponents at once. He was taught various forms of martial arts, swordsmanship, and tactics. The king's philosophy was simple: to forge Lancer into a weapon, he had to endure the fires of unyielding discipline and relentless challenge Parallel to his physical training, the king attempted to teach Lancer magic. However, Lancer struggled immensely with spellcasting. Despite his efforts, he couldn't grasp the delicate nuances of controlling magical energy... BUT!! The unicorns on the king's staff were perplexed. They measured Lancer's magical power and found it to be extraordinary, far beyond that of an average pony. They theorized that Lancer's raw magic was immense due to a unique genetic heritage, a rare convergence of potent magical bloodlines. His innate magic was like a raging river, powerful but untamed, making it difficult for him to harness it effectively. The unicorns on the king's staff were perplexed. They measured Lancer's magical power and found it to be extraordinary, far beyond that of an average pony. They theorized that Lancer's raw magic was immense due to a unique genetic heritage, a rare convergence of potent magical bloodlines. His innate magic was like a raging river, powerful but untamed, making it difficult for him to harness it effectively. One night, the king summoned Lancer to his private chambers. There, he spoke of a mythological god worshipped in some religions of Dominus—a god of lightning. This deity, known as Tempestus, was believed to control the skies and wield lightning as his weapon. The king revealed his plan, inspired by ancient texts and legends that spoke of reincarnating such a god by infusing lightning into one with great magical potential. The king, though skeptical of the myth's divine aspects, believed in the power of the element itself. He had studied countless stories and rituals, convinced that through sheer force of will and the right conditions, he could turn Lancer into an unstoppable force of nature. The idea was cruel, involving immense pain and risk, but the king saw it as a necessary step to create an invincible warrior. On a stormy day, the king and his unicorn advisors led Lancer to a high tower designed to attract and harness lightning. They secured Lancer to a stone platform, his horn directed skyward. As the storm intensified, the advisors began casting a magical conduit between the storm and Lancer's horn. A lightning rod attached to the platform attracted a massive bolt of lightning. The energy coursed through the rod and into Lancer's horn, sending excruciating pain through his entire body. His screams echoed through the tower as his body convulsed, the sheer force of the lightning threatening to tear him apart. The process was agonizing and seemed to last an eternity. Just as it seemed Lancer might succumb to the pain, the energy stabilized, The raw power of the lightning melded with his innate magic, and he felt an unprecedented surge... When the storm finally subsided, Lancer lay on the platform, exhausted but alive. Lancer's new abilities were extraordinary. He could turn into lightning, traveling at incredible speeds and striking with unparalleled force. He could enhance his physical capabilities, moving with the swiftness and strength of a storm. However, this power came with a severe drawback. Using large amounts of his lightning abilities shortened his lifespan and caused intense pain and strain. Every time he harnessed the full extent of his power, it felt like his body was being torn apart from within. The king, determined to make Lancer endure, subjected him to countless simulations. These brutal training sessions were designed to push Lancer to use his abilities to their limits, torturing him into building resilience against the pain and strain. Despite his struggle with conventional magic, Lancer found some solace in a unicorn mentor who taught him a unique approach to spellcasting. This mentor explained that magic was about making analogies with reality, viewing concepts as ideas rather than their mundane forms. By thinking of his horn as a device and his electric magic as a circuit, Lancer learned to create spells that could disrupt or enhance magical energy. This imaginative approach allowed Lancer to develop unique spells that complemented his lightning abilities, though he always found himself returning to the raw, visceral power of his elemental magic. By the age of 23, Lancer had become an awe-inspiring force of nature. As a royal knight, he was revered throughout Dominus, known for his lightning-infused sword that could cleave through the toughest of defenses and split the land with its power. However, due to the severe physical toll his abilities took on him, he was only deployed in the most critical battles. But that time was coming! The war had reached its zenith. The revolutionary forces had amassed a massive army, ready to overthrow the kingdom once and for all. The entire nation was engulfed in chaos, with cities and villages reduced to rubble. The final confrontation took place on a vast, desolate plain, where the last remnants of Dominus' forces stood against the overwhelming might of the revolutionaries. Lancer led the charge, his body crackling with lightning. He moved like a storm incarnate, cutting through enemy ranks with terrifying speed and precision. His sword, glowing with electric fury, slashed through steel and stone alike. The battlefield was a maelstrom of energy, with Lancer at its center, a beacon of ungodly power. Despite his incredible power, the battle was brutal and relentless. The revolutionaries fought with desperate fury, their numbers seeming endless. Lancer's abilities began to take their toll, the strain and pain growing with each passing moment. His vision blurred, and every movement felt like his last. In a final, desperate act, Lancer gathered all his remaining strength and unleashed a devastating surge of lightning. The ground trembled and split as the energy ripped through the enemy lines, leaving nothing but scorched earth in its wake. The revolutionaries were decimated, their forces shattered. As the dust settled, Lancer stood alone amidst the ruins of what had once been a thriving land. The battlefield was silent, save for the crackle of lingering electricity. ... The land of Dominus lay in ruins, a testament to the horrors of war. As Lancer stood amidst the ruins of the final battlefield, the echoes of the past battles settled over him.  The once vibrant emotions that had driven him were now hollow and dry, leaving him feeling like a husk of his former self. He had given everything to the kingdom—his mind, body, and spirit. Every ounce of his being had been dedicated to the cause, to ending the war and bringing peace to Dominus. But now, as he surveyed the desolation around him, it felt as though all his sacrifices had been in vain. The land he had fought so hard to protect was reduced to ashes, a barren wasteland with no signs of life. Lancer's emotions were nearly dead, like a corpse. The joy, the anger, the determination—all had been drained from him, leaving behind a numbing void. His once fiery eyes were now dull, devoid of the spark that had once driven him to stand up against impossible odds. His heart, which had beaten with fervor and passion, now felt like a heavy, lifeless stone in his chest. Numbness consumed him, both physically and emotionally. The pain that had once been a constant companion during his training and battles now felt distant, almost unreal. His body, though still powerful, moved mechanically, as if driven by an unseen force rather than his own will. Lancer walked through the aftermath of the battle, his steps slow and heavy. He felt disconnected from the world around him, as if he were merely a spectator in a grim play. Without a word, without a tear, Lancer turned away from the ruins and began to walk. He had no destination, no purpose. In that moment, Lancer became a wanderer, a lone figure moving through the remnants of a shattered world. His life already shortened to it's limits...