Far up, at the very Northern edge of the kingdom of Korinth, lie the Dragon's Claws. Indeed, they reach all the way across the entire continent. They are an emormous range of mountains, nearly impassible by all save the Winged Ones.
On the far side, unbeknownst to nearly all, lies a deep valley.
Buried in the woodlands, almost between the two Peaks, there sits a castle. So far from civilization, almost no one even knows of it's existence.
That is just the way the Druids like it.
High within one of the many towers that overlook the walls of the castle, a window glows with illumination. Inside sits an apparently middle aged man, at a writing desk, making careful notations in a large leather tome. As he writes, he muses to himself.
"The world, it is a strange place, yes? Who ever would have thought it, on that dreadful night, so long ago?"
His mind wanders, memories replaying that night. One so fateful for him, yet so common for most others.
It is a snowy winter night. A young boy of about 8 years is walking home in the near dark of the street lamps. It is late, and he was supposed to have been home several hours ago. However, in the ways of young boys and shortened winter days, the time flew by, and all sense of time was lost to him.
As he hurries along, he shivers, both from the cold and the hour. "Big boys are not scared of the dark!" he mutters. Nevertheless, he hurries right along toward home. He looks around furtively, and mildly concerned. The hour is very late indeed, many homes being darkened for sleep long ago. The remainig light comes only from the few lamps, and the low hanging full moon.
The moon, so low in the sky, makes him a little nervous. Many are the stories of strange things happening in the bright light of Vulinar when she is full. A tingle runs up his spine, as a tingle of another sort permeates his body, and his soul.
He hurries right along.
As he rounds the last corner between him and his home, the tingle turns into an overwhelming feeling of dread. Overcome with the sudden rush of emotion, he immediately dives behind a snowdrift lying at the edge of street.
Peering cautiously over the top, he wonders why he is hiding.
Suddenly, the door to his home is thrown open. In the illumination, he sees the silhouette of a man.
It is a strange man.
A man he has never seen before.
Indeed, this strange man is holding a sword, red tinted in the moonlight.
The silhouette seems to look about a moment, then strides around to the side of the house.
A moment later, an enormous horse comes tearing around the corner of the house, rushing right toward the boy. The boy instinctively ducks low.
