Chronicles of Neo: Prologue
In an unimportant village, in an equally unimportant tavern, all is well. Peace reigns throughout the lands around it, ruled by a just leader.
The land is called Jorangor, named after the person who founded it. Jorangor was an adventurer who escaped from the harsh tyranny of his island, explored the land that his name now honors, and died with a smile on his face. Or at least that is how the story goes. Nowadays, the stories of Jorangor are myths and legends, but all adventurers honor him as a deity and wear his insignia, a circle with an eagle curled up within it, an egg in its claws. The symbolism is that life goes on, the egg hatching, the bird laying another egg, and the cycle continues.
Anyhow, generations have past and any harm throughout the land was eradicated, peace ruling out again and again. Back to the tavern, there is a man with a white beard and weariness on his face. He is sitting by a desk with parchment on it, quill in his hand, and an ink bottle nearby. He looks outside through the open window at the sunny day for a moment. A small breeze blows in, stirring up the parchment. Heeding it no mind temporarily, the man closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and exhales slowly. He looks a bit more refreshed as he opens his eyes again.
Turning back to the desk, he straightens the paper and dips his quill in the ink bottle. He pauses for a moment, thinking. Memories flash through his mind, seeing himself again, when he was younger. He recalls the pain and the joy from those days and sighs, missing those days yet again.
A smile comes to his face, widening as one would when content with oneself, or as one gets a spark of inspiration that continues to grow within seconds, or perhaps both. The ink on his quill dried out, he dips the quill in the bottle again and begins to write,
Chronicles of Neo, the Magic SwordsmanIt all begins when…