The Dark Ages have bothered us all, and committed a huge difference in our society. Relive the time on the moccasins of Shamrock Witherbell, experiencing the thrill of war and power.
Everything starts at shore, from where one can journey oceans of life teeming with emotions. The wisest abandons these worldly affairs and seeks reclusion from society. A group of men isolated from others, betraying pain, jealousy, greed and all other petty feelings. Through this complete solitude, they evolved from men, to a much powerful and divine class- The Summoners. By this time, the class of summoners were filled with spiritual power, so great that they could win the war against any other class on Earth. At this precise moment, the Dark Lord offered them his invitation. War was inevitable, and the offer was temptous. This introduced quarrel to the group. The Dark Lord was quite cunning, for he had struck the Summoners' weakness- power. All Summoners wanted power, or superiority in other words. They were already gifted spiritually, but yet to be tested in mortal combat. The Blade-Summoners, skilled in blade-mastery, hesitantly accepted the offer. The other left-over summoners, also known as the Staff-Summoners, had no need to join. They were spiritual mages, and did not need the help of mortal combat to aid them. Angry at the refusal of his invitation, the Dark Lord burned down the entire Nazir Village, where the Staff-Summoners took shelter. Since that day, the only word heard from the mouth of these mages was vengeance. War commenced. The last alliance of men, mages, elves and some other classes marched to the very gates of Farédum. When victory was at verge, the Dark Lord himself entered the battlefield. With him was Barador, son of Arathorn, a very skilled Staff-Summoner. But instead of a staff, he wielded an elvish wand. The elves gasped at the sight of it, for it was no other than the wand of Direole, the most powerful elvish weapon ever crafted. All cursed Barador for betrayal, bad-mouthing him whenever chance came. But one flick of the wand was all that was needed to get them all to be quiet. Galebro, the original owner of the wand Direole, rushed at Barador. There were many secrets about the wand that was unknown, but Barador, being careless, aimed the wand at its master, and mouthed a killing curse. Everything disappeared. The explosion was deafening. Every single warrior was thrown back with great velocity. Soon, the smoke cleared. The wand was nowhere to be seen! It had disappeared with Galebro and Barador! The Dark Lord was defeated. Good had prevailed once again. But the whereabouts of Barador and Galebro was yet a mystery. Soon the story of the wand turned into a myth, and from a myth it turned into a legend. And soon, the Wand-Keepers were all but a child's tale.
End of foreword. Beter quality Chapters comming soon!
