[i]So here's my improved version of my fantasy epic preface. I was tired when I made the last one, and missed some errors and forgot tags. Unable to edit the last thread for reasons I won't bother disclosing, I wanted to correct those issues to convenience any who might be interested in this. This has been a long time work of mine, that unfortunately hasn't reached the writing phase yet, and has only recently gone into the planning phase. This isn't your typical fantasy full of elves, dwarves, wizards, orcs, goblins, trolls, and dragons, nor is it your kidsy bright themed Disney fairy tale or fable. This is a dark tale, wrought with action, adventure, pain, tragedy, death, war, etc. Though on a fun trivia note, this was a storyline concept I was working on when I wanted to be a video game designer about ten years ago. Now, I'm working on making it a novel. This is only an introduction to "The Blood of Aezathra". I look forward to your thoughts. Enjoy and thanks for reading. (The link above contains another short piece of history for this story.) This link as well offers another piece related to this story: [url=http://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/39972/83750875/0/0]At the Edge[/url][/i] [spoiler]https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/12wbnKZAZNJEaM-3m_xbHmfvEPBka3YhKXL-wzUfynCU/edit[/spoiler] Strength. Honor. Love. Peace. As was the land of Aezathra. As was the Age of Solidarity. This era of unmatched strength and tranquility was unparalleled in any of Aezathra's ages. The Age of Solidarity was the pride of the land's years. From the Shores of Eodorath in the west to the Othrethoa Coast in the east; from the Sea of Kazodoh far in the north to the shield of the Athrogmak Mountains in the south, the peoples of Aezathra lived in peace and joy. Armies drank nights away with laughter, kings walked among peasants as friends, and ballads of glory were sung for miles around. Strength and honor. Love and peace. As was Aezathra. As was its children. But good things come to an end. For strength cannot reign without weakness. Honor cannot prevail without dishonor. From love, hatred birthed. And peace. Peace cannot exist without war. Far to the south, beyond the Athrogmak Mountains, a people less blessed than the northern nations lived miserably in the harsh Shograreth Desert. Clinging desperately to life in the Ergs of Tektabar, the Vokkeba grew immeasurably resentful of the kingdoms of the north, for their children grew old in cities of prosperity and plenty. But in the merciless wastes of the desert, the Vokkeba watched their young die of hunger and thirst far too many times. Though their distant kin, the Shazolo in the north, opened up their lands and offered to share their halls with them, the Vokkeba were a bitter and envious people, and no generosity could wane the clinging parasitic hatred they had for their relatives. They believed that the Shazolo's fortunes were undeserved, or rather misplaced, and they didn't intend to share the plentiful lands with the nation they loathed with passion for as long as they could remember. Their malice festered and grew stronger. The Vokkeba waited. And after years of preparation, they led a campaign of war against the kingdoms of the north. They trekked through the Ergs of Tektabar, marched over the Regs of Erotath, and when they emerged from the Athrogmak Mountains, the Age of Solidarity ended swiftly. And for the times that disappear, something must take its place. Thus, the Age of Strife was born with the Age of Solidarity's death. The Vokkeba were a terrifying foe, full of wrath, and their thirst for the Shazolo's demise drove them mad, and their desire to bring about the north's prosperous peace to end spread across Aezathra like a vicious plague. The southern hills and woodlands north of the shielding arm of the Athrogmak Mountains were stained red with blood and burned black with fire. Death was met thousands of times as the Vokkeba pillaged villages and razed them to the ground, leaving behind nothing but carcasses and ashes in their wake. The victims of this crusade were left with but two choices: face a quick and merciless slaughter or attempt to flee with man and beast at their heels. The Vokkeba were provisioned with many spoils in the early years of the war, and they grew even more powerful, both in body and mind. Their hearts blazed with an ever more potent lust to conquer the north as their victories amassed. They relished in their blood thirst, making them more deadly over the years of destruction, and soon much of Aezathra had been overtaken by the Vokkeba campaign, their dominion swiftly approaching the scale of an empire. An empire ruled and driven by power, malice, death, and war. As the innocents perished horrifically in the rage torn blight in the southern reaches of their nation, the Shazolo were unable to ignore the threat that invaded their lands. Refugees flooded their cities and warriors marched against the Vokkeba armies. During that time, their expansion slowed, as the regular Shazolo army held them at bay. Valiant and vigilant, the Shazolo succeeded in holding the enemy lines back in the middle of the Haledra Forest, but without warning, more of their adversaries swarmed out of the Athrogmak Mountains, and like a tidal wave, the surge of reinforcements broke through the Shazolo army hardly opposed. Never before had fear like the Vokkeba nourished, stricken the northern kingdoms. Their peoples were overcome with the dread of when and where the Vokkeba would strike next. With the shattered Shazolo lines, and severe casualties, the north was sent into disarray. Hoping they wouldn't need to do so, the Shazolo resorted to the Ehzakol, the most skilled of their warriors, brave and resolute, each man worth ten in battle. Though few, they were a force to be reckoned with, and to be frightful of. Led by their most skilled champion and experienced captain, Rezoaroh, the Ehzakol emptied Mazhedra, the Shazolo nation's capital city in the northern reaches of the Atheosha Prairie, and marched for the frontlines, ready to meet and challenge the Vokkeba's might. By this time, the Vokkeba, prevented from pressing any further north, spread to the west. In doing so, they enslaved the poorly guarded Ethashi nation that clung to the rich waters scattered there. They found enough resources to supply several armies, and being frightening captors, the Ethashi were forced to obey their hands and fuel the Vokkeba military. Having relied on the Ethashi people for aid, the Shazolo were then at a disadvantage and soon the difference in numbers and provisions began to overwhelm their hold on Aezathra. Spread thin and being pressured from many fronts, the fate of the Shazolo and all of Aezathra appeared grim. The Great War was bound to reach its end. Realizing the doom that would befall Aezathra, the Nobruen, a noble and kind people occupant of the Mountains of Kethromar in the north, became entangled in the conflict that had been raging on for years to the south. Their King, Dotrenon, a good and old friend of Rezoaroh and his family, took it upon himself to provide the commander and his people with whatever supplies he could spare. Initially, the Nobruen had absolutely no intention of getting involved with the Great War, and some still didn't long for it, but some understood their kingdom wouldn't be spared from the Vokkeba's lust for dominion and they would become engulfed by their murderous crusade. The King was one of these men, and he commissioned the mines of Kethromar to be scoured for every trace of a special material. Although difficult to find due to its rarity, the Nobruen miners managed to stockpile a multitude of Helathra ore from the veins of the earth. Sent to the best forges, the Nobruen produced a supply of Helathran steel for their Shazolo comrades. Whilst this occurred, diplomatic efforts to end the war failed time and time again. And eventually they stopped entirely. The only conclusion to the conflict was a bloody one, and with that in light, the northern nations' leaders grew spiteful toward one another. Their wishes were divided, and although unified under the same cause, many disagreed in a number of ways on how the Great War was being handled. In Mazhedra, the Shazolo Elders couldn't agree on whether to annihilate the Vokkeba entirely or spare the survivors at their surrender, should it ever come. In Drelemor, the Nobruen lords argued over aiding the Shazolo. Some believed the Shazolo were already dangerously powerful enough, and any further reinforcement to that was unwise, as they could just as easily seek to overthrow the land of Aezathra as the Vokkeba had, leaving the Nobruen in an unwanted weakened position. Others, like Dotrenon, had faith in the Shazolo's morality and nobility, and refused to sit idly by and watch their allies perish under the Vokkeba's tyrannical campaign. Contention was becoming all too familiar, both on the earth of Aezathra and in the courts of its nations. (continued below)