Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Prolouge
It is a time of war and death. Darkness is everywhere. Death is not far off. It is the war that engulfed the planet. My people have suffered for thousands of generations. Our tribes have diminished to all but three. We have become nomads, once a great people. We are the tribe of the sky, the tribe of the mountain, and the tribe of the mist. But even now we are in danger. From the depths of the mountains of Sodon, in the volcano of Ciron, lives a beast so evil that the land it rules has been stripped bare of almost all life. His name is Pirus, the demon of fire. No one has seen him, because his land is so hot, that you die before you reach him. His firery hand is ever expanding. He will not rest until he has every creature bowing down to him.
by Xaviar
by Xaviar
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