Lafayente Castle, Northern Ireland; 6903 B.C

The ferocious thunder streaked across the sky, the haunting wind howled and wrapped itself around the ancient, massive castle. In the dim candlelight, a small figure, magnificently dressed, was holding a scroll in his trembling hands. Nearby, a gnome inquired timidly, " But, sir, it is said that we will never mix with," he paused a moment before adding disdainfully, "with mud men." The King sighed wearily, " We will, someday. When that happens, we're going to need this prophecy. This prophecy, and the help of two young people. One foul by nature and Fowl by name, and the other whose name I cannot name, although I strain to hear it from the raging wind. We're going to need this, in another time and place." With that, he swiftly threw the scroll down and down into the darkness…