Some time ago there was a great silence among the countries of the world.  A cold barrier cast across the entire world.  It was an age of darkness; it was a time of fear.

            The continent of Ralktae was secretly preparing for war, one that would end all other control.  Lord Uther, the king of Ralktae, ordered all men to enlist in his cause.  Proclamations were scattered in all four directions of his kingdom, and all were gathered.  Satisfied, the king unleashed his plague upon his bordering countries of Guadem and Loslotheien.  Both were taken by surprise, and all fell or fled before the blades of the Swarm of Ralktae.  Hundreds upon thousands were slaughtered, and many more were captured and sent into the darkest mines of Ralktae, to work until either they were unable to, or death take them.

            Ralktae’s armies continued to go unchecked, destroying entire country sides, leaving nothing but barren land in their wake.  Finally, Lord Oswin of Caleen began to resist, sending some mercenaries to assist and try to push back some of the Swarm.  His plan failed and he and his men fled to the West, but took away significant numbers to the Northern Swarm of Ralktae.  Lord Uther demanded that the two Swarms combine forces.  The two Swarms met up at the Fire Plains and began building a permanent settlement arrangement.  A citadel and barracks were constructed, and an armory appeared and began forging weapons from the iron ore found in the Fire Plains, bands of thieves and rouges starting joining the Swarm, hoping to abide to some of the prophets.  The Swarm started replenishing numbers and once again gaining in strength.

            Lord Oswin, too, had started gaining support from his bordering countries of Surlane and Numeon.  Together, they charged against the Swarm of Ralktae.  The Swarm held, and prevailed over the opposing forces.

            The remaining kingdoms were horrified.  How could one army of bandits triumph over three well-trained and disciplined armies?  It made no sense; Lord Uther had either powerful weapons or magic.  He wasn’t renowned for great power or strength… until now.  Something was making him more powerful… something, or someone.  After the victory Lord Uther then demanded that the Swarm remain immobile, for their numbers had thinned severely.  The Swarm began to gather iron ore to make steel, finding new sources of water, and growing mushrooms and other fungi to replenish themselves.

            Meanwhile, Lord Oswin was having a rough time just keeping the Swarm quadrants out of Surlane and Numeon.  He had taken the Lady Galalee as his wife, and attempted to rebuild his own life.  He had a son, Bane, and was happy for many months while his forces contained the Swarm.  Soon, some of his own men began revolting against Oswin, claiming that he didn’t care about his troops and sent them blind into battle against an opponent that couldn’t be beat.  Lord Oswin decided it was best if he was to return to the field of battle, and though his wife begged him not to go he turned a deaf ear to her pleas.  His troops marched to the Fire Plains, making camp two legions from the Swarm’s stronghold.

For a while, the Swarm began to fall for the disguises of Surlane spies and thieves.  Unfortunately, the Swarm found out many of the spies and they were immediately executed.  Those that valued their lives fled, leaving only the truly loyal to remain behind enemy ranks. 

Soon, the Swarm began rejecting unfamiliar visitors entirely, locking the gates and instead going back to gathering resources.  Population and productivity soared, and new colonies began springing up closer and closer to the capital cities.  Oswin held them back as far as he could.  The Swarm kept pushing greedily, consuming all life and raw materials, choking the land and slowly killing it.

Back at the House of Surlane, Galalee raised young Bane.  She would always wonder if Oswin would return home to see his son.  Many times she would hear Bane’s call of ‘father, father, where are you?’ and she would weep for him, hoping she would see her husband riding back up to the gates with news of victory and a smile on his face.

Lord Oswin fought gallantly, slaying many enemies and throwing down several generals of the Swarm.  Some of the un-loyal begged for forgiveness and were accepted back onto his side.  Lord Oswin didn’t fight without friends either, for now he had the kingdom’s full support.  A White Cleric from Loslotheien, a Sage from Guadem, and his second-in-command a ‘living-legend’ as people put him, a Knight of Surlane.  The war seemed to be coming to a head, when a powerful blow mortally injured Oswin.  He died upon the field of battle, and many of his followers lost confidence.  Moral dropped and the three legends vanished from the battlefield, leaving the downtrodden warriors to fend for themselves.  A caravan arrived at the House of Surlane; bringing news of Lord Oswin’s death… this is where our story begins, when the news reaches Bane’s ears...

Bane was just shy of his eighteenth year and had never seen his father.  He had his mother’s eyes, a dark hazel color.  She had told him countless times he looked like his father, yet he had nothing to compare himself to… and he never would.

A rider of Surlane had brought a message from the battlefield.  His father had fallen in battle against the Swarm.  Now Bane sat on the stone balcony, a leg swung over the edge, his other bend in a sharp arc in front of him.  His mother had been silently crying in her cambers for nearly a night.  Bane didn’t have any feelings… how could he miss something he never had?  He supposed he should be sad, if not for himself, for his mother, for she knew him better than anyone.

Bane sighed and pulled his foot back over the terrace, standing straight up.  He began walking out to the courtyard, his mind still on his father.  He found his mother sitting quietly on one of the many benches in the manor.  His mother smiled timidly up at him, her face and cheeks flushed from her tears.  Bane sat down and comforted her.  For a long time he said nothing, letting his mother cry into his shoulder.  A tear or two were sliding off her cheek and onto the polished mahogany.

“Your father…” Galalee started, her eyes glistening with tears once more, “your father was a great man… and you-“

“Look just like him…” Bane finished, peering down at his boots, “you say that all the time.”

“And every time I mean it.” His mother said, taking his hand in hers, “I know you’re meant for better things than this lonely countryside… you are the lord of your

house now… and that means… that means you must go and fight…”

“I will not leave you here to waste away.” Bane said, “I may have lost my father, but I’m not losing a mother too.”  Galalee’s eyes suddenly became very stern.

“You must fight… every man in Surlane and Numeon are fighting to keep us safe, you must too.” She said, “And don’t worry about me, I’m stronger than you may think.”

“Mother…” Bane started, before trailing off, “I will fight… for Caleen… for my country and house… not for the memory of someone I never knew.”

“I… I know.” His mother replied, “Do what you can for your country and kin.”

“I will.” Bane said, straightening up once more and turning to leave, “I promise.”

A caravan of Numeon soldiers arrived the next day, carrying the emblem of Caleen.  Both Bane and Galalee were waiting.  Bane was staring into the mountains, over towards the east, at the rising sun.  The cavalry halted, as did everyone behind them.  Two paladins led the rest, their horses obviously better trained than the others.  The soldiers clanked forward, pausing some feet behind them.  They had been heavily armored and held spears in their hands.  As they all stood they began to look around, obviously scoping the area.  The baggage came next, a squire to each pony.  The squires were much older than what Bane expected; some of them looked as if they could already be knights.  A paladin glanced over at Bane and then nodded to one of the squires behind him.  The boy rushed up immediately, pulling a horse behind him.  The steed looked of pure breed, better than the knights, but the paladins still had him beat for purity.  The boy handed him the reins.

“Here my lord…” he said, bowing and retreating, leaving the horse in Bane’s hands before he could even thank him.  Bane took his place next to (what he thought to be) the captain.  The paladin looked at him from underneath his dark hair.

“Good to see you Lord Bane.” the captain said, “I am Alexander.”

“Alexander?  I believe I’ve heard of your name before.” Bane said, “You were second guard to my father weren’t you?”

“Aye.” Alexander replied, “Your father was the greatest fighter my eyes have ever beheld.”  The paladin to Alexander’s left hung his head, his helmet guarding his face.

Alexander continued, “I’m sorry about your loss… there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“No apologies are needed.” Bane replied, staring straight ahead, wishing the conversation hadn’t started off on the subject of his father.

“B-but surely you mourn your father’s death?” asked Alexander.  Bane was beginning to become very irritated.

“I do not mourn what I do not miss captain.” Bane said firmly, throwing his bodyguard a particularly stern glance.

“I see…” Alexander said, “But you must be unhappy that you never got to meet him?”

“Yes…” Bane said finally, “I have seen him; I was just too small to remember him, now if you please captain, I wish to know where we’re going.”

“Oh… oh, yes, of course.” Alexander said, “We are going to Numeon, deep into the mountains to the capital.” He finished, glancing toward the other paladin.  The other rider kept very quiet and hung his head low whenever Lord Oswin’s name was mentioned.  The party continued on quickly… almost too quickly.  The soldiers were almost at a jog, running up behind them, the squires looking increasingly nervous, glancing nervously over their shoulders.  He looked at Alexander, he too looked anxious; why, he looked almost scared!  Bane sensed a kind of uneasiness as they went along the rocky terrain, the others starting to lag behind because of their armor and baggage.

“Captain, we’re getting ahead of the others.” Bane pointed out.  Alexander looked behind and yelled clearly, “Move along now!  Quickly you cads!”

“We really should slow down.” Bane said, “We’re in no hurry, are we?”

“Well, er...” Alexander stammered, lost for words.

“Lots of ground to cover, little time.” The paladin spoke in a deep, harsh voice.  He turned to Alexander, “Rae ner’y eht.”

“Yle urt?!” Alexander said, now beginning to sweat, and yelled back to the others, “Move!  Leave anyone who falls behind!”  This did not sit well with Bane, he was taught to stay together, no matter how bad the situation seemed, there was always power in numbers.

“Captain, we must slow down.” Bane insisted, stopping right where he was.  The paladin glanced at Bane and smiled.  Alexander looked horrified.

“We cannot stay!” he said, his voice starting to squeak, “We need to go.”

“We’re not going until they catch up!  Now either you tell me why we’re in such a hurry, or I will relieve you of duty.” Bane said sternly, getting sick of being hurried along.

“We are being hunted, my lord!” Alexander confessed.  The paladin turned to Alexander, glaring at him.  Bane stood dumbfounded.

“Hunted?  Hunted by whom?” Bane asked, staring from one to another.  The others had now caught up, though extremely winded from all the pushing and rushing.

“We are being chased by The S-“Alexander was cut off, an arrow had landed right at the feet of his horse.  Another narrowly missed Bane’s head, another sent a soldier dodging to the left.  A hail of arrows began to fall.  From where Bane couldn’t guess, but the he guessed that they weren’t of Numeon make.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” Alexander shouted, sending his horse into a frenzy, “Protect Lord Bane!”  At his words, the cavalry made a shield of armor and steel around Bane, even using their own shields to protect him from any stray arrows.  Through a sliver in his own defense, Bane could see a bow, two, twelve, too many to count!  The soldiers began to rush back up the rocky path, wielding their shields against the archers as more of the enemies began sending down soldiers of their own.  Alexander ran back, retreating towards Bane.

“Lord Bane!  Run!” Alexander said.  An archer heard his cry and took careful aim several feet away.  His arrow was true.  The archer fired his arrow, which struck Alexander’s plate armor between his shoulder and back.  Alexander was flung from his steed, and thrown forward.  He lay motionless, face down on the ground.

“ALEXANDER!” Bane shouted, running forward.  The paladin stopped him.

“RETREAT!” the paladin bellowed, “ESCAPE IF YOU CAN!” and in one motion the palading plucked Bane from the ground, leaving Alexander’s body behind and retreated away from the battle.  His horse was sure-footed and sprinted through the rocky terrain.  Bane turned to speak to him.

“Where are we going?!” Bane half shouted.

“Away from harm.” The horse rider said, going faster than ever.  A few arrows whizzed past them, but the rider was skilled and dodged them, sending them astray.

A horn rang out from behind them, a low bass note that ended in a small crescendo at the end.  Bane had never heard the sound before, but it send chills down his spine.  Another call answered, and another, it sounded like Alexander’s troops were horribly outnumbered.  Several more horns called out, and then died away, still the horse pushed on.  It seemed like they were going faster still, the ground a blur beneath Bane as they rode, the horse keeping up with its masters wishes.  The horns grew steadily duller, barely audible, before Bane and his rescuer began to even begin to slow down.  Bane was just starting to become drowsy when the horse slowed to a trot.  The paladin stopped and glanced in all directions, then judging it was safe, he slowly dismounted.  His horse seemed grateful and knelt slightly to allow Bane to get down.

“We’ll make camp here.” The rider said, “My horse can carry me as far as I please, but I cannot expect him to carry two men in full armor all the way to Numeon.”

“I understand.” Bane replied, “I am already thankful, I owe you my life.”  The horsemen nodded his head.

“We’re lucky… any longer and all of us would have been slain.”  He had begun to gather small twigs and pieces of brush for a fire.  Bane too, began to gather dry sticks, and looked for a striking stone for his flint.  The two started a fire, hoping that a small one would at least keep them warm for the night in the mountains.

“You have saved my life,” Bane started slowly, “Yet, I do not know your name.”  The horsemen made an uncomfortable shift, clearing his throat.

“My name is Dorin.” The man replied, “First in command, and paladin of Numeon, and this is Galador, my steed.”  The horse whinnied, acknowledging its presence.  Bane chortled; it seemed like his horse understood what he said.

“It’s a shame…” Bane said, “Your entire squadron taken out, your captain dead.”

“He wasn’t the captain.” Dorin said, glancing at him from across the fire, “The important thing is that you’re safe, my lord.”  Dorin said, taking off his helmet for the first time.  His hair fell slightly past his shoulder, dark lochs of graying brown hair snaking down the front of his armor.  His eyes, too, were a dark hazel color.