City Of Heroes Analysis

Prologue and Chapter 1: Forty-Eight Princes

If men can repeat their lives, would they opt to do so?

For those who lived a life of glory,

Would they relive their lives to experience their triumph all over again?

For those who lived a life of boredom,

Would they relive their lives to seek delight and fight their tedium of daily lives?

For those who lived a life of agony,

Would they relive their lives to go through it all over again?

For those who lived a life of mistakes,

Would they relive their lives to amend those errors?

Whatever one’s choice of believing whether there’s another life after death, the general consensus would say that human would have no choice but to turn to dust at least once.

And should men can
It was a living evidence of how persistent human beings can be.

Within the confines of arenite walls which spanned for over one hundred arvina (about two kilometers) in length and one hundred lvina (about two meters) in height, structures—both old and new, sprawled and amalgamated into its landscape. Even with a horse carriage, one couldn’t reach the edge of the city from the other edge in a day travel. Such was the majesty of Bravell.

When the previous master of the city, the aged and weakened Grand Lunar Regime, collapsed, Bravell was ushered to be the capital of its continent, known by the tongue of men as Sverzemlya--- the northern lands. The city took another three hundred years before it was incorporated into another state--- a federated empire, the Empire of Fymia. Although like any major cities in the Federation, Bravell had managed to hold on into its autonomy.

At that present it was the seat of one of the ten states of the Federation, the Holy Principalities of
Even though Bravell never served as the capital of the Grand Lunar Regime, the regime built it so that no man could ever match its splendour. The palace was built from the rarest and sturdiest marble, adorned with precious jewels and exquisite pieces of arts from all over the lands. In the palace there was no less than a thousand room and ten thousands of servants, with its halls, lively and bright, and its ceilings, high and mighty.

The palace truly was a genuine achievement of mankind.

It was late afternoon, a certain man was walking through the halls of that palace.

He was a man of medium stature, if one were to compare him to the average height of the people of Bravell, his skin was fair, his brown hair tied, his eyes, brown, and there was a peculiar faint scar under his right eye. From his tidy, refined clothes one could tell that he was at least no common person.

The man knew that he was late for his affairs, but he chose to dally anyway.

After all, the palace never ceased to impress him. Despite it was certainly not the first time for him to be there, he wanted to savour the beauty for a little