The great bird swooped high above lonely green lands and rugged plains. Its Eyes, like fiery beacons of nobility, gazed down at its troubled home. The calm sea's grew restless. Ever tranquil by nature, Until now.
The wind roared through the mountains and valleys, high above the disturbed lands. Every moment of quiet calm seemed to be subsequently shattered by screams and fell spells echoing through the air. The rock of the unmovable mountains cascaded towards soft earth and grass scratched at flesh and fur, as if it hungered for life. Little by little the world was in decay.
Alone stood young Salion, learning from the essence of 'the calm' in the Enduin lake. Tranquil waters kissed his knees, and around the shallow pearl bright lake converged haunting trees. He looked up at the grey sky and wondered why the sun had faded then gone so suddenly given that it was a full hour since sunrise. It was as if a Titan of extraordinary stature had reached into the heavens and snatched it away....
Almost in his adult years now, he was eager to prove himself as a worthy warrior adept. Being Strong of fist and broad of back, he was also renowned for his skill with the blade. However, all of his arduous training and the martial prowess earned from many a year in the battle forts gave him no comfort now, in the face of this abrupt extinguishment of bright golden light. His mastery was of bone, weapon, mind and flesh, along with some study of elemental control, world knowlege and philisophy. He knew of no reason for what he was seeing, nor how it came to happen, although this veiled sun seemed to remind him of an old story he heard long ago.
As is the strong curiosity of the people of Seliath, Salion wanted answers to his queries and recalled some words said by the wise elder Dwelldel. 'One should be ever weary of peace and quick to shun it, for comfort leaves the mind less potent and blade less eager'. Maybe Dwelldell knew what was taking place overhead.
'So it is that my land will come under hand of dark,
Dwelleth unseen, foul legions wait,
A world dire for men is our mark,
Spirit of elders shall break evils hate.'
Salion uttered. This was the guardian’s prayer. A potent verse which was spoken on the break of each new day by every adept of the 12 battle forts of Seliath. It was taught to salion by his farther, as was every future adept told by theirs. A verse to rally to, to give warning of things to come, which only few knew, and to remind all that peace never lasts.
Salion waded as fast as he could through the sparkling lake back to shore, then hastily threw his black cotton tunic back on as he grasped for his pole arm from the lakes edge. He began his journey at a run, away from the murky river to the hill of ebor. Back into the main settlement of Seliath Vale was his path. There his answers will be found, he assured himself...
