Lightning. It fills the distant sky. An intricate dance of purple and silver, an incessant display of power and savagery, an intermittent glimpse into portents and secrecy as it illuminates the mysterious mountains peaks beneath it. The mountains, which the people of the free lands of Kalrouth have feared for so long. The mountains, whose dwellers long ago waged war against the people of Kalrouth and then inexplicably withdrew. The mountains, of whom it is said that only the first children of Kalrouth could pass through without penalty. The mountains, from which no fool brave enough to attempt ascent returned.
It was these mountains, the forbidden peaks of drak'Gotur, that drove the chancellor of the Plains folk to call for an emergency assembly of elders. It was customary for all the chiefs of the lands of Kalrouth to meet every ten years to take pulse of their lands. So rare was a meeting of this nature that in the entire history of Kalrouth, an emergency meeting of the regional Chiefs had been called only once before: twenty years ago. It was then, the Wise One of Vlenova, the frozen wasteland, prophecized that their land would face a test unlike any before. She foretold a war that would rend the fabric of their culture, of their existence. She also foretold of a last hope, a group of youngsters she called the first children of Kalrouth who in a generation would be the only hope for survival.
So much had changed in the last two decades, since the Wise One was mysteriously murdered in her own land. Their world was changing. The old alliances faltering. Tension between the swamps and the tundra were at a boiling point. It seemed the Wise One's words were coming to fruition. And so, the chancellor of the Great Plains of Kalrouth, chief of his people and protector of his realm called forth this emergency meeting, a meeting to discuss their only hope. As he looked around the table, at his fellow chieftains glaring at each other, whispering to one another, plotting against the other he knew he would have to use every ounce of diplomacy he had to navigate this storm.
The lightening draws the chancellor's gaze one last time before he offers his proposal. With that last bolt of purple fury, he offers up a prayer that he will not fail the people of Kalrouth, for mitigation is the role of the Plainsmen, the reason they are always chair of the council of elders. Only this time, instead of boundary or trade disputes, the future
of their world was at stake...
