Legend of Red Eagle

Untitled Part 1

 Legend of Red Eagle

The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them to or not... but we can remember. That which is lost can live on in memories. What you're about to hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it would not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us.          -Christopher Paolini

Long ago, a child was born to a small tribe. They named him Faolan, which means 'Red Eagle' in their tongue, for the screeching bird-call that greeted his birth, and the crimson sun that stained the hills like blood as it gave way to the night.

The tribe shaman foretold at Faolan's birth that he would become the most fiercem chief in the land, and as he came of age it became clear the prophecy would come true. With each passing season the tribe grew more prosperous. But that peace would only be remembered as the calm before the storm.

Then came a great tribe from the south, led by a beast of a man, named Akecheta. One by one, the chieftains of surrounding tribes bent knee to him or were slaughtered in battle. When envoys were sent to Red Eagle's tribe, demanding their surrender, he refused to yield the freedom of his people, but the elders were fearful. They cast him out, and accepted Akecheta's reins.

The forgein invaders had taken everything Faolan held dear; his land, his people, his very name. In the years that followed, Red Eagle became known as the untamed spirit of his land, unbowed, unbroken, and fearful. Wherever he trod, the ground was wetted by the blood of his foes. He gathered loyal tribesmen to himself, those who clung to the old ways, who yearned for freedom, and forged a new nation. Together, they fell upon the occupiers and the traitors by night, disappearing into the cliffs and caves each morn. But even their greatest efforts were not enough. For every one of Akecheta's warriors they wiped out, yet more seemed to march from the green south to replace them.

One night, hunting in the woods, the spirit of a raven came to Faolan offering power, for a price, and a pact was made.

Thus was the price of power; his heart, his will, and his very humanity. From that day forth, his was a spirit of vengeance, pitiless and beyond remorse. The rebels grew in strength and numbers, and none could stand against them. Faolan's eyes burned coldly in those days, black opals reflecting a mind not entirely his own. Two years passed, and the foreigners were all but driven from his land.

Such peace could not last, however, and a great host fell upon them, a swift army of invaders unlike any before. For days, Akecheta's soldiers drove forward into Red Eagle's territory, till he himself came forth for battle, alone, save for his most loyal warriors. A thousand of Akecheta's men fell before his flaming spear, and the enemy was routed. Yet, when night fell, so too did he. The warriors who came with him said Faolan's eyes were clear again on that final night.

He was taken to the place prepared for him, a tomb hidden deep within the rock. With his remaining strength he presented his spear to his people, and swore an oath: Fight on, and when at last the land is free, his weapon should be returned to him, that he might rise and lead them again.

Thus was given for his people: his life, his dream, his spear. But when every debt is repaid in blood, these he shall reclaim once more.

Based off of The Legend of Red Eagle, from Skyrim.