I live on this island... Basically on my own. My parents never cared for what I did all day. They only formed me, grew me until I was seven, and helped me when I was sick or hurt. I fed myself. Trained myself. Taught myself. And lived by myself.
"You did a better job at that then they would ever dream of."
"Quiet! You arn't in charge here!"
Sorry. Where was I? Oh right, Caring for myself. I didn't get an education until I was nine, and even then, nobody helped. I was a loner, so I moved out. I would describe my old home, that it, if I could remember it. All I remember from my childhood - however small it was - is the forest that surrounded my old family. I can still navigate those trees better than I can tell you how find some berries in the storage room. The trees are tall, and thick. The island I live on, Anora, is so old that the youngest tree is over 30 years old. Branches on these trees are as high from the ground is as my roof is to my floor. It took me 30 days to get onto the lowest branch of a tree, and almost from sunset to sundown to get back down. Since I was seven, I learned how to live from the forest. I followed birds to find the safe berries. I followed my parents to learn how to build. I followed the vines to learn how to travel. I followed the wind to learn how to disappear. I now have my own home. A training room, a library, a storage room, and a bedroom. It's north of the village that I supposedly belong to, which is east of the land form Meta, which is almost in the middle of the island. The village's wooden buildings are encircling the stone House of Ancestors. And while you cannot view the sea from the village or my abode, you can just barely catch a whiff of salt in the air.
"Yeah okay. Surprisingly they did less to help you then your 'loving parents'."
"That was mean. Say you're sorry."
"For stating the truth?"
"For stating the truth bluntly."
Moving on... There is more than just trees on that island. There are the three Dragon Mountains: Karni, Magika, and Meta - for which I have been named. The sun shines dazzlingly on the island almost all year. The rest of the time is filled with grey fog rolling in from the south, creeping up to weep at the mountains' feet. Ancient lore says that, before our ancestors came, the mountains used to be the great Grey Dragons.
These Dragons boasted and fought for everything. They fought for gold, weapons, armor, castles, and for one maiden. This maiden was named Fegilli, and she is said to be the most delicate girl ever formed. All three Grey Dragons became in love with Fegilli, much to the girls dismay, and started to fight. The fought, and fought, and fought for her. The churned the ocean and broke Anora away from the earth it used to touch. Pushing the now-island further into the sea. Upon seeing the destruction, the three Dragons found Fegilli on the south side of the island. Fegilli floated down upon their feet and wept at the chaos raging around her. She summoned forth all the magic she could out of herself and the Dragons. She summoned a wall of water which crashed upon the dragons and turned them into mountains, stuck in the middle of the island they made. Fegilli was turned into a puff of mist, as she didn't have the strength to continue. That mist has be called 'Grey Fog' in honor of Fegilli, and rumors say that sometimes - when grey fog rolls onto the island and stops at the feet of the mountains - you can hear Fegilli weeping at the foot of Meta, the youngest of the three.
"Wow. Nice story, Meta. Can we get to the good stuff now?"
"I thought Meta's telling of 'The Grey Dragons' was beautiful. Be more respectful."
"You know I hate Myths, and Legends, and Lore. So can we skip to some action?"
"No. Meta is writing the story. She gets to choose what she writes about next. You'll just have to be patient."
"You're no fun Monica."
"It's not like you're a doe in the forest either, Theta."
Let me tell you about those two.
