Prolouge

"Your father is Albert Wisker the third. Wine producer extraordinaire. Owns Millions of gold! And what do you do? You run around playing with a sword all day!" His mother's words echoed in the Young Man known as Allen Wisker or Allen "Wisher" as his friends called him. He roamed through the countryside near his father's Vineyard swinging the wooden sword his father gave him.

He sighed as he jumped down onto a rock and bent down next to a stream. "Why can't they understand I want to be a soldier. A Protector. Have adventures and defeat vile villains… and be appreciated…" His father once told him that he was extraordinary at strategy. So he had spent the brief 20 years after those words bettering himself in history, geography, swordplay, archery, and of course, Battle Strategy. Evidenced by the mess of scrolls and books in his house. Allen sighed sitting next to the stream, his green eyes staring back at him from the stream, his mother was always disappointed when he didn't take an interest in any of the girls in town, He was fairly handsome, he kept himself in shape and his brown hair was purposefully messy to drive his mother mad. His body was tanned from the exercise required to keep himself in shape. He heard snaps and rustling around him, Pain shot up from his leg scorching his mind as he felt the arrow sink into his lower leg, he fell on his stomach, grabbing the wooden sword he sent up a prayer.

"Wanderer… Guide my strikes…" He ran in the direction the shot came from, his every step sending burning pain throughout his body. He felt the second arrow before he heard the thunk of it sinking into his chest. Now with pain rippling through his chest, he saw the face of the archer. A lanky man with a scar down his left cheek and mismatched black and blue eyes.

A warmth, White glowed in waves around Allen. He struggled to his feet, to his shock the arrows were gone. Albert looked around in fear.

"This is… the Wanderer's plain…" Allen heard the dull tap of a walking stick against the grass as a tall man, his face so bright Allen had to look away.

"Little one. Your journey is not over yet." The Being spoke laying a large hand on Allen's shoulder.

"Please, sir. What more is there for this humble Follower?" The Wanderer's voice boomed as he chuckled.

"You will see child. Walk upon the earthly plane once more as a testament to my power and love. Your world will be unfamiliar and path unsure. But do not stray from me, my child." A purple orb appeared in front of Allen.

Allen's eyes opened dirt was covering him from head to toe, Allen gasped expecting to be suffocated but his breathing was normal, confused Allen decided to dwell on it later as he dug his arms through the dirt. Hours later Allen felt his hand pierce through the dirt and he pulled himself through spitting the dirt out of his mouth. He looked around finding himself in his old suit. It was ragged and soiled but he still cut an imposingly tall and broad-shouldered figure in it.

Thank you, Wanderer, I will trust your guidance. He walked down to the stream, it was wider and deeper but still familiar to him. As he gazed down his Emerald green eye on his right side still shown with curiosity, what surprised him was that from the right of his nose to just above his cheekbone his bright white skeleton showed and his left eye shone purple. The Royal color of the Wanderer. His right arm was wrapped against a ceremonial sword, from the elbow down it was skeletal and he found he wasn't as ugly as he thought Revenants were supposed to be.

Revenants haven't been called for hundreds of years… Wanderer, what is it you have sent me back for? He prayed as he walked back to his home. The Vineyard had grown, and weird metal pieces moved nonstop, grabbing clipping, and gathering from the vines. Steam blew out of the machines as a man operated a weird stick, Allen was horrified and fascinated by the odd machines. What purpose do these machines have? They are more advanced than anything I've ever seen, Allen thought as he made a break for his house.

Climbing up the old oak tree that stretched well past his window now, His room was…. Painted blue, with plastic statues and blue sheets on the bed, pieces of paper with people and strange writing on them were held to the wall by four strange dots of color. There was a mirror in the far right of the room on the wall with the door. There was a desk in the corner with a black box under it and a flat black box on a stand on top of it.

This is…. Strange, it appears to be a bedroom but what are these items strewn about? Are they idols of some sort? And what of these portraits? And what do the words on them mean? This is so strange… Allen climbed back down the tree and found the outside entrance to the cellar. Mom always kept bandages down here. I hope whoever's living here still abides by that rule. He ran down into the cellar, filled with aging wine and a red box with a white cross on the wall. Worth a shot Allen though opening the red box, bandages, and other medicines were crammed neatly into its metallic red body.

Grabbing some scissors and bandages from the box he began covering the exposed skeleton on his face and right arm. Adjusting his belt to allow the sword and hilt to rest more comfortably. Now looking much more normal Allen exited the cellar and closed it before walking out towards town.

- - - - - - - - - - - - Anaya - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ayana Wisher, typical early 2000's teenager. Well except that her favorite color is blue, several movie posters on her wall, and the baggie clothes covering her actually fairly curvy figure. Her friends called her a "Tomboy" for liking the stuff that was supposed to be for boys but Ayana didn't care, she still liked being girly as long as it was on her terms. Like today she styled her long brown hair to be wavy and wore nice earrings even though she wore shades to cover her green eyes and her purple clothes covered most of her caramel brown skin.

As she walked she saw a man in a tattered and worn suit walking away from her neighborhood, the man had half his face wrapped in bandages and his right arm as well.

"Oh, my gosh are you alright sir?" Ayana asked she was still polite to people though she couldn't say that about most of her friends. "Ahhhh thank you, Miss, just a work accident I'll be fine. Do you know who owns the vineyard? A friend of mine used to work there."

"Oh! My family owns it! My great great great grandfather renamed it after his younger brother who was killed. Apparently, everyone called him "Wisher" So the vineyard and the family name were changed and I'm rambling…." Ayana flushed red catching herself as she went into way too much detail as usual.

"A-aaaaanyways, My Mom owns the company currently, What's the name of your friend maybe I can ask if anyone retired recently." The man shook his head with a visibly restrained smile. "That won't be necessary. Do you happen to have a newspaper?" Anaya opened her purse and pulled out a quarter and two dimes handing them to the man. "Here you go, it's exact change." She smiled and waved as the man walked off thanking her.

- - - - - - - - Allen - - - - - - - - - - - -

Allen held back tears as he looked for a place that sells newspapers. My brother… Did that for me? W-we didn't even talk that much… Wanderer blesses my brother. He wiped the liquid from his eyes and finally found a small box with newspapers and a slot for coins, after fumbling with it for a minute due to one of his arms being bandaged up he finally got it out and looked at the date. 2009, It's been 200 years… Allen's eye rolled back as he fainted.