When the peace and safety of Dameran is threatened by the vicious rampage of the Nuruk wolf, the kingdom calls on the aid of its greatest warrior to save it. But fate would have it that the call of duty for one hero would lead to the birth of anothe...
From the deepest parts of hell itself, come forth malevolent beings with power to commit unspeakable acts of evil. Filled with the greatest of animosity for all that blood goes through, if given the chance these beings roam the lands destroying all who are unfortunate to cross them.
These beings are known as Nuruk Demons.
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The dull glow of the moon could hardly penetrate the darkness of the night. A slight chill in the air and the pitter patter of rain formed a calm harmony that meant most people were in their homes seeking warmth. But a few movements began to disturb the calm as a group of people gathered. Their footsteps the only sound mixed with the ones of the rain drops, as they filed into a mysterious building under the cover of darkness. They were greeted in by the early comers who were already making themselves comfortable as they waited for the others. The building had a low ceiling and a wide-open space in the center, surrounded by four walls all covered in faded paintings of rivers, clouds and bright colored figures. At the foot of three of these walls rested the golden statue of a winged bird, seated majestically as though it was being paid a homage. There was something ancient about the building, yet it appeared time was no challenge to the strength that held these solid walls up.
Although the building offered shelter from the rain, the eerie atmosphere within was more chilling than the cold outside. The flow of people gathering in seemed to have stopped, and the crowd inside appeared to be complete. There was incessant muttering, and a mixture of fear and anxiety swept across the whole building. Sitting at a distance opposite the entrance, laid a fountain beneath an arc shaped hole at the wall free of a statue unlike the others. The fountain had apparently run dry years ago judging by the dead vines and dry leaves that ran across it. A member of the crowd dressed in a long blue silk robe that barely exposed his sandals strode forward towards the fountain and stood at the mouth of its arc. He was a tall slender man with bright lustrous blonde hair. His sunken cheeks complimented his dull blue eyes and pointy chin with golden locks of interwoven hair that came out of the tip of it. He rose his hands in the air to try and get the attention of the small audience before him and spoke in a unique and native language that few of them could understand.
Almost instantly all the chatter stopped. He took the sharp silence as a sign for him to continue. Folding his arms behind his back, he began speaking to his audience, this time in a language they could all understand;
"The time has come to fulfil our clan's purpose. Brothers and sisters, I come with good tidings today." His firm voice could hardly contain a trace of excitement as he spread his hands wide as he wore on a gleeful smile, "The blessed one has been born!! And it could not be in better timing."
He looked to the right and gestured to a woman who was standing by a tent, she bowed to him in response and peered into the tent. A minute later, a beautiful woman dressed in a simple white garment walked out in a gracious manner. Her golden blonde hair waived gloriously behind her as she sauntered towards the man. The people however had their attention on what she carried in her arms, a nursing baby, no more than a month old perhaps. She stepped up to the man showing nothing but concern in her eyes for the child she held in her arms.
In a futile attempt, she tried to hold back the tears that left her watery eyes as she handed the baby to the speaker while barely looking him in his eyes. Before taking the child however, almost as if another person entirely, he caressed her cheek making guiding her eyes to his. His smile was different now, a much more sincere and mild one. After cautiously taking the infant from her hands, he began to chant an eccentric language barely louder than a whisper as if he was talking to the child in his arms. He then pulled out a small vial and emptied its contents into the baby's mouth. Not long after, the baby began to display a sign displeasure on its face and soon started to cry. Its pulse slowed down as its skin got pale, even as it grew weaker, the baby bawled as loudly as it could and then just as it once was, the room once filled with the cries of a child was as quiet as a graveyard. Its once watery eyes closed slowly as the infant drifted away.
The man tried to calm himself as his hands began to tremble, he looked at the baby's mother who was crying beyond herself now and gave a faint smile before lifting the corpse to his mouth and whispering into its ear;
"My last gift to you." He removed the thin robe he wore around him with one hand and spread it across the ground before placing the baby's corpse on it. The silence was so powerful now you could hear every creaking branch beyond the walls of the gathering. With a solemn expression and tears in his eyes, he placed his hands on the baby's chest and chanted in almost a whisper,
"Chivala caldhora."
His hands glowed in a magnificent tone of yellow that lit up the baby's entire skin as its little heartbeat returned, the man closed his eyes slowly and laid by the baby. With a smile, his last breath escaped his lips. Reunited once more, the mother picked up her child and held it up to the people who watched as the infant gloriously began to cry once more.
The crowd started to chant a prayer in unison, all except the mother who had her gaze on the man, her gaze narrowed at him as tears rolled down her cheeks, who could blame her though, before her laid her deceased lover.
