*A human stumbles from a dark cave. He falls to the ground, and peers up to the night sky. Smiling, and almost cackling out loud, he realizes for the first time in a long time, he can once again sense the mana of the Lunar Power flowing around him. He raises his tortured body, cramped from long periods of being imprisoned in a small box. Visions of the past months flash before his eyes, more vivid then any fateful visions he had, had before. Being tortured, imprisoned, threatened, and then left for dead. They under estimated, him. They underestimated his Oaths. To his King. To his Tribe. But the last and most recent Oath, he has uttered. They will come to to never underestimate, nor forget.*

*He closes his eyes and prepares a almost forgotten spell, moving the almost unbearable pain aside. Casts it, and then another, and then another. Then with next to no strength left, he casts the final spell, and is pulls through a well placed moonbeam, collapsing at the foot of not only his front door, but also, his younger brother, Driword.*

Driword says, "Gods, Jappal what have they done you you?"

You say weakly, "They've sealed their fate, and condemned themselves to waiting embraces of whatever Gods they worship, or curse them."

Driword carries Jappal inside his home and begins to help him on his road back.


'Ye may judge and scorn the Outcasts if ye wish. Hate them for their pride, honor and power. But know this well, they are here to stay, and will never be forgotten again.' -King Raenilar-