This is going to sound a bit like others that I've read, but only this chapter and only how I've set it up. I honestly don't think that there are enough stories about the eleven supernovas so this is my contribution. In other words, I made it up on a whim so enjoy.

War, a simple word that holds much more meaning than it should. The meaning is different to each individual and it has a way of catching people off guard. It is a bloody affair that holds a beauty that is impossible to deny once all is said and done. The victors are the ones to write the history, but what truly happens in the time of war? This is an account of a war that gave rise to an unusual group of people. These people saw what started the war, and they were the ones who protected the world from its carnage. This is their story.

The brick-red-haired man set down the jeweled crown onto the nightstand. He decided that he was tired of being a puppet for the Elder Council. It was time to leave, and he wasn't planning on ever coming back. They would find a new puppet and he would do as he saw fit.

Walking over to the bed, he stripped off the offending garments and replaced them with the blue garment of a general. He picked up a blue mask and secured it on his head. Picking up the commander's hat, a sword, and an axe, he slipped to the balcony and fled from the castle.

His first goal was already set in stone, he had to leave the kingdom before he was found.

Her pink hair billowed in the breeze as the girl wondered what she was thinking. She was pressed against the tower wall, waiting for the sentry beneath her to leave. She had studied all the defenses and knew that as soon as the man left, she would have to drop down the remaining two stories in order to escape. It was her only chance to be free from her imprisonment.

A good five minutes later, the pinkette dropped to the ground and ran for the side entrance that no one knew about. She eased the wooden door open and silently slipped into a caravan's camp. She entered one of the darkened tents and, without so much as glancing at the occupants, stripped off her dress, pulled on trousers and a loose shirt, then grabbed a cloak and map, both of which were conveniently on top of a chest.

Glancing at the map, she wrapped the cloak around her and set off towards the nearest kingdom.

His orange-brown hair swayed as he moved about the room. The braid was bumping against his back as it tried to detach itself from the man's head. No matter what that foolish couple had said, he was still the best musician in the Long Arm Tribe. Those people just didn't know art when they heard it. Tone deaf they had called him. What did they know?

Sighing, the man with two elbows on each arm wondered where he was going to go. He couldn't return to the Long Arm Tribe for fear of bringing shame upon his people. He didn't really want to stay in this kingdom any longer just because he never liked it in the first place. After placing the folded royal garments on the chest and tying off the sash to the brown peasant rags that had been supplied to him, he left the castle.

He looked at the directions available to him and set off on a whim.

His dark appearance stood out against the whiteness of the snow. The black cloak hid the tan that made him an oddity in the northern-most kingdom. He had never cared what others had thought about him but he knew that the people around him were planning something so he had to leave. The man was swaying on his feet and he could no longer see what was in front of him, but that was to be expected. He was, after all, walking in the middle of a blizzard.

The wind finally won out and it ripped the hood off of his head, revealing black hair underneath a snow-leopard fur hat. The man finally collapsed, the cold winning over his will. Just as soon as he closed his eyes, he opened them again. A small polar bear cub as nudging him. The man sat up and the cub crawled into his lap and snuggled into the man's stomach.

With another source of heat under the cloak, the man continued his way south.

The black-haired teen stared wide-eyed as his green-haired guard blocked the attack of a man the teen had trusted. Throwing the attacker back, the guard backed up and forced the teen to the wardrobe. Without saying a work, the dark-haired boy went into it and opened up the secret passage that only he and his guard knew about. He slipped in silently, tears threatening to fall down his face.

With his charge out of harm's way, the guard tightened his grip on all three of his swords. Without any warning, he sliced through the man who was supposed to protect the teen. Replacing his swords at his side, the green-haired man picked up the yellow straw hat and grabbed a torch. Once inside of the passage, he set the wardrobe on fire and closed the door.

On a single horse, the duo rode out of the castle and into the unknown future.

The short dark-haired man place the un-drunk glass of wine on the table. He then stood and pulled on his coat. His room was on the ground floor so he left the building and went to the stables. He saw no reason to stay if he couldn't even tryst his own men. Sure he could just kill them all, but that would lead to a revolt and the man didn't want to deal with something so pointless.

He entered the stable and prepared his horse for departure. It was an easy task and since he was always prepared, he already bad supplies for his journey. He mounted the black mare and rode her at a walk to the wall that wasn't a wall. He looked back at what used to be his castle before spurring the horse into a gallop.

He needed to leave the kingdom before the sun rose.

The red-haired man looked up into the blonds' masked face, a sword pointed at his neck. There other people there but the redhead was only interested in the man who had beaten him. The blond was also interested in this so-called "prince". He was nothing like the nobles that used mercenaries to do their dirty work. He did it himself.

As the people around the two continued to pillage the royal's things, the two came to a silent agreement. There were no other people left standing by the time the two were finished. All of the others were bleeding out, spread out on the road. The prince collected the two best horses and handed one over to the blond.

Mounting them, the duo went off in a single direction.

The hay-haired man showed no emotion even though he was bleeding profusely from the wound on his side. The king had not liked what the man had "predicted" about his wife. In a fit of rage, he had ordered the blonds' death.

Now, the emotionless man was walking for the exit. He might not care about life in general, but the shadow of death was not on him. He would survive this and find his true destiny elsewhere. Outside of the towering walls, the man looked upon his cards and headed east.

He needed to leave the kingdom, but he first needed a medic.

The giant of a man looked at his hands, dripping blood onto the ground as he held them out. The permanent smile that was plastered on his face showed regret and his once white wings were stained in the crimson that lay around him. The only thought he could muster up was that it wasn't his blood.

The body that the blood belonged in lay in a broken heap on the floor. The body the giant man's hands had broken. The clouds shifted and showed the temple, painted red and ominous in the moonlight. The man could no longer stay there. He had defiled the sacred ground. He was no longer priest. He was a murderer.

Regret heavy in his heart, the man left the temple.