Prologue
The sun rose high over the clear blue skies of Avalon. A cool spring breeze filled the fields and skies. From one of the tower balconys of the castle, Yeramo stepped out resting his elbows on the ledge of the balcony overlooking the sight that laid before him. From the tower balcony, he could feel the spring sun's warmth mixed with the cool breeze. His long black hair, pale skin, and signature long black coat blew gently in the passing breeze. Looking down, he could see the castle market row filled with vendor carts and people all going about their usual day. He let out a small sigh of relief , since he couldn't recall the last time him, and the rest of the kingdom were able to take it easy. Without the fear of being attacked or any present danger.
As he was taking in this brief scene of serenity, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind him. He turned around as he saw a young woman with similar black hair and pale skin. She was rather petite. She wore black leather armor that , by looking at it, one could tell that it was custom made to fit her body and her body alone. She carried both a bow and quiver on her back, both which looked like Drowish design. On each side of her hips, were two small swords. So small in fact that at first glance, one may have mistaken them for daggers. Yes, there were all trademarks signs of a ranger of Avalon. Her face showed that of a very youthful young lady. Her hazel green eyes locked with his as she emerged from the tower onto the balcony. She looked at Yeramo giving a slight bow to the head. "Father there you are. Queen Leshana has been looking for you. She sent me here to have you report to her in the war room."
Yeramo responded by nodding his head and gave her a slight smile. "Thank you Dimarii. Tell the queen that I shall meet her there shortly." Yeramo then turned back around looking out past the castle walls and across the open field to the thick green forest that lay beyond, his mind drifting back to events and faces of the past.
Yeramo began to recall images and events that took place back in his home nation of Taron. There, along the shores of the continent Valikorlia, Yeramo recalled his old life, back before he became the warrior he was today. He recalled his old life and how simple it used to be. Yeramo, like his father, grew up in the nation of Taron. Spending his childhood days pretending to be off on some wild adventure. Like his father, Yeramo grew up with hopes of one day joining the ranks of the Thorian Rangers. His father, Yagukai, was the currenty commander of the Thorian rangers. Yeramo had always dreamt of one day joining his father and his uncle Desoto on their adventures of going off and saving the nation.
Yeramo slightly shrugged his head as a slight smirk appeared on his face as these thoughts rushed through his mind. How young and naïve he was back then. If only he could go back and tell his childhood self about being careful what you wish for. Flashing back to his memory of the day that he became of age and joined the Rangers. He recalled how nervous and excited he was to be standing in that line of recruits, when his uncle Desoto, the instructor of the rangers, and one of the best known hand to hand combat fighters known in all of Valikorlia was slowly walking past their line inspecting each one of them. When he came to Yeramo, he stopped. Yeramo looked up at his uncle. Desoto's long white hair, fair pale skin, long elfish ears and dressed from head to toe in the signature Thorian Rangers uniform. He called the months of training that followed his first day in that first formation.
He recalled all the long hours of training and study. He recalled all the sleepless nights and endless training exercises that took place in the forest of Taron. He thought back to the days to where he wanted nothing more than to give up. But sure enough, every time he came close to giving up, he was reminded of upholding his father's honor. Then he recalled the day that he, and his fellow recruits became fully fledged Rangers. That was the day that he would never forget.
Upon graduation day, he recalled bits and pieces of the ceremony. He recalled the long winded speeches of his commanders and generals. But one moment stood out in his memory more than any other that day. It was the moment that he was standing in the line formation along with his fellow rangers when his uncle approached him. Now both of them wore the uniform of the rangers and Yeramo was able to stand proud. Desoto stepped in front of Yeramo and placed and hand on his left shoulder. He looked Yeramo dead in the eye and gave him a slight smile as he said, "Yeramo…your father would've been proud of you." That small statement, to this day, still fills Yeramo with pride. Sadly, Yeramo's father was killed while embarking on a mission to the outskirts of Taron along the Dalmarian boarder.
He had recalled the tale that Desoto had told him as a child about how they were ambushed while escorting the king's personal scribe on a negotiation mission to King Draven of Dalmar.