The Eternal Storm

Prologue: Skye Cabin

The Isle of Skye was located in a place once known as Scotland. It was now referred to as the Exalted Land, the Great North, or the Wild, depending on where you were brought up. In this Isle of Skye, there was absolutely nothing except for the great expanse of hidden grottoes and mystic lakes, a land formed by glaciers millions of years ago. When the Eternal Storm hit, the Isle of Skye was barely populated, yet nonetheless populated. Now, it was truly a wasteland, devoid of any life.

Except for the Skye Cabin.

When one sees the Skye Cabin, they wouldn't be able to believe their eyes. There is no mailbox, no road, no car, no electrical poles, and most certainly no address. Yet, it is well-taken care of, with a grand front porch and a miniature garden tended to by the gentlest of hands. A red-brick chimney peaks from the rear, and every winter you can smell the ashy soot as the smoke emits from it like a factory smokestack.

The owner of this truly remote cabin is Old Arthur Hemwick. Arthur is a kind man who has his familiar quirks. He loves studying constellations, swimming in the nearby springs, and eating his wife Carla's rhubarb pie. He had no children, and didn't particularly care for them, so he was content with life as it was. But there was one thing he did love more than anything else (except for Carla, of course), and it was visitors.

Journeymen, soldiers, traders, criminals, adventurers and sorcerers often visited past Skye Cabin, and since it was the only place of refuge on the Isle of Skye, these sorts of people would pay their visits to Arthur and Carla Hemwick, and were greeted by bundles of kindness and joy.

On this particular winter's night, they had an esteemed visitor. His name was Prince Nebble, son of Nester the Great of Port of Ness, up in the Outer Hebrides. They were desolate Northern islands, but rich in resources such as timber and fish, so they were valued to merchants and settlers. Port of Ness was the largest of the Hebridean Islands, and strange folk were rumored to shift through the city wharves and shadows, including spellbinders and assassins. 

"Do tell me, Prince Nebble, have you ran into these so-called spellbinders?" Arthur asked while sipping cashmere tea in the living room of the warm and lively Skye Cabin. Nebble sat on a worn crimson sofa, his tea scalding his tongue as he drank.

"Yes actually, they're quite common. As any form of magic is banned in the South, many flee to the Outer Hebrides for safety. They're usually kind folk, but some are especially dark."

"I would assume so! Dirty bastards!" Carla shouted from the kitchen, mixing up some steamed vegetables from her garden. "The magic folk are devious and manipulative. We can't have them plaguing the Great North." 

Arthur just shook his head at his wife's foul tongue. "Carla, our dear guest bears an Enchanted Amulet around his neck. He is surely trained in some arts of magic. Don't make him feel unwelcome." 

Nebble just looked down at his silk-woven shoes. "No, no, I have no training in magic, I can assure you. I was just down in Barra, visiting the Wilderness Temple. They gave me some odd trinkets, most of which I discarded of." He held out the orange amulet in his hands and fingered around with it. "But I kept this charm. They said it would glow when a great force of magic affects the world. It hasn't done anything for the few weeks I've been traveling back to Port of Ness, but I found it interesting." 

Arthur stared at the jewel like it was some sort of foreign contraption. "It truly is beautiful, I must say. Can I hold it?" Nebble placed the amulet in Arthur's hand gently, and Arthur just gushed with amazement. 

"It's made of crowamber, and was enchanted from the Great Templeman himself. My father, king of Port of Ness, told me to head down to Barra to discover the mystics and how important they are."