In a land of strife and tribes exists one who would conquer all. Once upon a time. The land that is known as Stag was full of tribes all coexisting. They farmed for food and magic was plentiful. But from the north came one who knew only war.
The northern tribe called themselves the Golden Ones. Their deity the Sun. Where there was little of in the North. As the Golden Ones came down they slaughtered all with weapons of the night that seemed to absorb the light. As they slaughtered they eventually set up in the South. It was warmer and had more food.
As they seemed to settle more tribes seemed to disappear becoming nothing but smoldering piles of ashes. The smoke could be seen for miles and miles.
The Leader of the tribe of Golden Ones was given the title Verick's Chosen (Verick being the God of Death), or Verick's Herald. His blade was said to take the souls of all he killed and he was said to be eight feet tall with arms and legs as big as a tree trunk capable of pulling men limb from limb if he chose to.
He led with a woman who reeked of roses and slit throats of those who dared surrender to her wiles and charms. She wore a necklace of belladonna and a headdress of fingers of those who touched her. A fearsome tribe that had conquered all.
The land they conquered used to be full of life. Tree's and animals blossomed and seemed to coexist with the other tribes. None were harmed and few cared to harm. It was harmonious.
This story is one that shall tell the ending of that tribe. The Golden One's being undone from one of their own. Listen close and miss nothing.
