In an unknown era, in an unknown dimension, the Ancients were locked in an endless, infinite and seemingly pointless struggle. Thousands were dying for no solid reason, and only one Ancients thoughts are focused...
Spruce trees loomed over a tall figure morosely. In the background, the sound of steel clashing could be heard. Ancient steel. The battle sounded so far away, and yet so near.
The figure was built like a pure warrior. Muscles tensed underneath his armour and lines creased his face. Despite the age, the warrior moved like a youth. Strapped to his back was an intricate sword. Long grey hair descended to his shoulders. His armour was predominantly silver with black decor, gleaming in the strange hue of the light. He stopped in front of the altar, and gazed into the cold water within.
All of the existing Clans had named him the Wise One from a very young age, due to the fact he was extremely apt at strategy-making. He was also a physically skilled warrior, even more so than his counterparts. His narrow eyes were dark brown, sign he was part of the Na'uki Clan: the people of the forests.
The Wise One looked at the reflection of the sky in the icy water before him. The heavens were unchanging grey: night fell when the grey darkened, but in these days there was no sleep, only waiting. Waiting for an inevitable attack. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to shut out the sounds of fighting. This war had gone on for too long, it needed to end. But there was no clear way to end it.
The war took place across the entire continent of Greater Unukiit. The continent, like the entire planet, was a world of eternal Autumn and Winter. Sometimes the atmosphere was orange before the clouds darkened. The continent was dotted with towering rocky mountains, deep revitalising lakes, spruce forests and lakes. The different Clans lived in temples or camps depending on where they decided to reside.
The Wise One stood over the stone altar, looking at his reflection with mixed thoughts. He could hear steel on steel in the valley behind him. Part of him shut out the emotions, like every other Ancient. But another part of him let these emotions flood in and make him see through the cold machine he and his race were.
The wind blew through the spruce trees, shifting their black branches, and making a hollow sound. As The Wise One slowly stared into the water before him and fell into a trance, a shadow appeared in his peripheral vision.
He blinked and saw the shadow of a hammer coming down on his head. Within a minute he pushed himself away, rolling backwards, and watched the altar disintegrate into shards.
The Ancient wielding the hammer was Siqiniq: his eyes were striking orange and narrow. The Siqininq's face was impassive as he threw the hammer aside and went into a full blown assault on the Wise One, deciding to take him on in hand to hand.
He managed to counterattack as the Wise One dropkicked and they were both brought down to the floor hard. The Siqiniq Ancient was up before he was, and he grabbed an axe, charging the Wise One.
The Wise One stood calm and impassive, arms folded, watching the Siqiniq approach. At the last moment, he feinted a fall and the Siqiniq brought his axe down. The axe flew out of his hands and buried itself in the trunk of a spruce tree. The Spirit Catcher loomed over them in the background.
The Siqiniq was tripped up and he hit the floor hard. The Wise One was onto him, firing several punches into his back. The Ancient recovered suprisingly quickly with a backhand that put the Wise One off guard. The Siqiniq, in a last attempt to kill him, drew out a knife, but the Wise One brought his fist up into the Siqiniq's jaw, breaking it.
He dropped his attacker, who tried to punch. His knuckles broke against the Wise One's armour and he gasped in pain. The Wise One sweeped his attacker's legs from under him, before bringing his elbow down on the Siqiniq's windpipe, crushing it.
A minutes silence passed, the Wise One looking down on the dead body of his attacker.