Post by ForgottenExistance on May 8, 2013 19:06:41 GMT -5
This book, though meant to tell my tale, isn't just about me. This book is about everyone who has ever felt the sting of loss, or been the proud bearer of resolve and courage. This book is a manual for everyone who has lost what is most dear to them, but gained somthing else in return. For those who are powerless, this book is power. For those who are hopeless, this is hope. And for those who are lost, this is a beacon in the dead of night.
But for the spark of knowlege to be lit, first, we must start at the begining. We must start where every good tale starts; and that is where the legend began.
The legend of the Hunters Of The Night started in Rome, several generations ago. Though there are different views on how we came to be, I will only recount for you what my father told to me. For those who read this, and those who care enough to follow my instructions, it is up to you wether to believe this tale or not.
In Rome, a band of nomad hunters roamed the outskirts of the cities, finding work where they could manage. They didn't need a home, or vast wealth. These hunters were happy to live amongst the wilderness, and be one with the wildlife. These were the first Rangers to travel to Norse lands. But that is getting ahead of myself, at the time, they were simply talented hunters with a common love of the wild.
Legend had it that there were twelve of these nomads; five women and seven men, from all over the span of the Roman Empire. With different backgrounds and stories, no two hunters were the same, but they treated eachother as family. They lived and prospered off the wilderness, their lust for adventure was never satisfied.
One day, it is said that the tribe came across the tracks of a great beast in the sands during their travels. Though their curiosity got the better of them, they knew what the tracks belonged to. They had lived in the wilds for long enough to recognize the tracks of a great beast such as a dragon.
Both fearing and anticipating the greatest hunt of their lives, they set out in search of the fearsome beast that had left such trails in the sand. With thoughts of grandure on their minds, the tribe followed the trail for days and nights, until finally they came upon the nest of the great beast. But to attack the creature outright would be suicide, even for twelve hunters of such skill. Instead, they decided to wait, watching the great beast for many moons, until finally they learned to be as one with the beast; move like they do, track like they do, think like they do.
As the dragon taught them from afar, the young hunters grew ambitious, and eager. The tribe was split over the decision to kill the beast though, it had taught them so much, and even a few of them had been allowed to approach the creature during their time of study. The three hunters who had been capable of aproaching the dragon successfully were firmly for protecting the beast. Alexis, the Defender. Cyrus, the Scholar. And Gaius, the Shadow. These three brave hunters, legend has it, became the first of the Draco Mente, or those who have the mind of a Dragon. They weren't seen as men in the eyes of their fellow hunters anymore, they alligned themselves with the dragon.
The Draco Mente left camp in the middle of the night, to warn the great dragon of the impending danger. But despite all their warnings, the wise dragon instead had them leave. The dragon claimed that it would fight to its last breath, so long as they went to spread their knowlege to others around the world. Grudgingly, the three split apart, and left with the knowlege of the dragon.
The next night, the remainder of the hunters confronted the great beast. The Darkwing, (or Night Fury in the Norse tongue) with all its understanding of the humans, knew that there would be no bartering for its freedom. The jealousy and ambition of the humans was unsurpassable, and could not be drowned out.
In one final, glorious battle, the hunters slayed the beast. With what they learned, they crafted themselves coats from the scaley hide of the dragon. They left that battle with the strength of the dragon.
A generation later, the proud Rangers and the Draco Mente met by chance. The children of their age came together, and became the first Hunters of The Night. With the combined knowlege and the strength from that one beast, long ago. They formed under a common purpose; to use their knowlege to protect innocent lives from dragons.
But for the spark of knowlege to be lit, first, we must start at the begining. We must start where every good tale starts; and that is where the legend began.
The legend of the Hunters Of The Night started in Rome, several generations ago. Though there are different views on how we came to be, I will only recount for you what my father told to me. For those who read this, and those who care enough to follow my instructions, it is up to you wether to believe this tale or not.
In Rome, a band of nomad hunters roamed the outskirts of the cities, finding work where they could manage. They didn't need a home, or vast wealth. These hunters were happy to live amongst the wilderness, and be one with the wildlife. These were the first Rangers to travel to Norse lands. But that is getting ahead of myself, at the time, they were simply talented hunters with a common love of the wild.
Legend had it that there were twelve of these nomads; five women and seven men, from all over the span of the Roman Empire. With different backgrounds and stories, no two hunters were the same, but they treated eachother as family. They lived and prospered off the wilderness, their lust for adventure was never satisfied.
One day, it is said that the tribe came across the tracks of a great beast in the sands during their travels. Though their curiosity got the better of them, they knew what the tracks belonged to. They had lived in the wilds for long enough to recognize the tracks of a great beast such as a dragon.
Both fearing and anticipating the greatest hunt of their lives, they set out in search of the fearsome beast that had left such trails in the sand. With thoughts of grandure on their minds, the tribe followed the trail for days and nights, until finally they came upon the nest of the great beast. But to attack the creature outright would be suicide, even for twelve hunters of such skill. Instead, they decided to wait, watching the great beast for many moons, until finally they learned to be as one with the beast; move like they do, track like they do, think like they do.
As the dragon taught them from afar, the young hunters grew ambitious, and eager. The tribe was split over the decision to kill the beast though, it had taught them so much, and even a few of them had been allowed to approach the creature during their time of study. The three hunters who had been capable of aproaching the dragon successfully were firmly for protecting the beast. Alexis, the Defender. Cyrus, the Scholar. And Gaius, the Shadow. These three brave hunters, legend has it, became the first of the Draco Mente, or those who have the mind of a Dragon. They weren't seen as men in the eyes of their fellow hunters anymore, they alligned themselves with the dragon.
The Draco Mente left camp in the middle of the night, to warn the great dragon of the impending danger. But despite all their warnings, the wise dragon instead had them leave. The dragon claimed that it would fight to its last breath, so long as they went to spread their knowlege to others around the world. Grudgingly, the three split apart, and left with the knowlege of the dragon.
The next night, the remainder of the hunters confronted the great beast. The Darkwing, (or Night Fury in the Norse tongue) with all its understanding of the humans, knew that there would be no bartering for its freedom. The jealousy and ambition of the humans was unsurpassable, and could not be drowned out.
In one final, glorious battle, the hunters slayed the beast. With what they learned, they crafted themselves coats from the scaley hide of the dragon. They left that battle with the strength of the dragon.
A generation later, the proud Rangers and the Draco Mente met by chance. The children of their age came together, and became the first Hunters of The Night. With the combined knowlege and the strength from that one beast, long ago. They formed under a common purpose; to use their knowlege to protect innocent lives from dragons.
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"But brother, why must we leave the Empire? We can do so much here to protect the people," the stubborn, black haired woman complained. She sat on a wooden crate with her arms crossed as the boat uneasily ricketed back and forth over the rough waves.
"Because, sister, we must. Our bretheren have already taken the Empire and its outlaying countries under their wings. There are other people that need protection in the islands to the North," the man retorted, looking over his shoulder at the stubborn woman. She only sighed and shook her head with disgust as she leaned back against the mast, closing her eyes to protect them from the harsh, cold spray of salt water from the ocean. Her simple black robes had a layer of ocean mist on it, but she remained relatively dry, since the robes went to her ankles, wrists, and the hood kept all but her face dry.
"Soon, my sister, we shall be in a new land. A land where we can prosper and protect, for generations to come," the man mused, more to himself then his sibling. From where he was standing, the wind tore at his own black cloak, which he allowed to billow lightly behind him. But the hood stayed on with a small black band that was tied over the hood and around his forehead, giving him a little extra protection from the gradually cooling weather.
He pushed his short, brown bangs out of the way of his face, tucking them back into his hood with care as he stared, transfixed. The island in front of him, their final destination, was quickly approaching. Soon, his sister and himself would be ready to defend the Norse islands from dragon threats. Soon, they would ignite the fires of hope in such a desolate land. It was only a matter of time before they inspired more to join their cause, submit under their teachings.
The boat creaked its way next to the wooden planks of a well-made dock, and finally groaned to a halt against the sand of the bank. With a groan equal to that of the boat, the woman slowly picked herself up off of the crate and looked around tiredly. The Norse village was far different then that of her home in Athens, and that made her rather uneasy, especially the way that the vikings lined up near the docks, armed to the teeth, and eager to see who the newcomers were. With a last glance at the vikings, she reached over to the Roman claymore that rested against the mast, and picked up the finely crafted blade with ease.
With a sigh, the woman hefted the heavy blade over her shoulder and into its leather scabbard on her back, so the hilt rested within reach over her right shoulder. She was the first off the boat, quick to walk up to the guarding line of vikings. With a bit of a nervous twitch on her part, she reached up and pushed the hood back, revealing the jagged scars on her jawline, and the burn mark that covered most of the left side of her neck. The leather of her gloves creaked as she worriedly returned her hands to a folded position in front of her, to show the men that she meant no harm.
Her brother had followed close behind her, likewise removing the hood from his head, and tying the black band to his wrist. His weapon of choice, the bronze mace he cherished so much, rested under his cloak, fastened to his belt. It made its apearance when he strode down the dock, his cloak billowing backwards away from himself. He came to a halt in front of the men, spared his sister a sympathetic glance, then returned to looking at the men.
The one at the head of the group, who seemed to be the leader, spoke heavily, "Welcome to our village, strangers. Before you are allowed to step any further, however, you have to tell us who you are, and where it is that you've sailed from," he boomed with authority, crossing his beefy arms with a small frown.
The brother bowed lowly, his sister following suit before straightening, "I appologize for the suddeness of our apearance, kind warrior. But we are from a land far to the South of here. I am Heron, and this is my sister, Nereus. We mean you no harm, but we wish to stay here for a period of time," he said, gesturing to his sister in an introduction at her name. He glanced around the village before continuing, "Due to some...events, which I'd rather not get into... We seek solace in your village."
"An honor, I am Chief Ice-Bear. I admit, this is...most unusual. We have not met many people from the South. But we will respect your privacy on the matter, if that is what you wish. My only concearn is if you will contribute to our village's development and safety, in your period of solace here. We can't just go about handing out land to anyone who so happens to wander into our ports, now can we?" the chief voiced his concearns, echoing the faces of the men and women behind him. They were more uncomfortable with new things then the two Greek hunters were.
The siblings shared a glance and a small nod before they turned back to the chief, "We will most certainly contribute to your village, most honorable chief. Not only are we trained warriors, but we are also capable of hunting for food in the wilderness, and have had experience building things. You will not need to grant us any land, if you don't wish. We can easily live in the wilderness around your village, and still grant you our skills," Heron mused before he gestured blatantly to the boat they arrived in, "We will also grant you our boat, if you allow us to live here. We will have no further use for it."
"So, a brother and a sister sail to our shores, with the experience of trained warriors, and are willing to give such charity to people they have only just met." The chief laughed heartily, followed by his villagers behind him, "Well this will certainly be an interesting tale to tell! If you are willing to go to such lengths to stay here, then who am I to turn you away? Welcome to Icebreaker Cove, my friends, welcome!" the chief boomed happily before he closed the distance and clapped Heron on the shoulder with a massive palm, a gesture of his newfound friendship. The other vikings behind him were quick to agree, and follow his lead by lowering their weapons and putting on friendly faces. The prospect of a new boat and two handy helpers was certainly enough to put them in a good mood.
If only they knew just how much help the two siblings would prove to be in the future.