Colorful rays of light speared outward, piercing the dusty air as he raised the glowing weapon. Finding it, he grabbed the Sword’s jeweled hilt with both hands and slowly drew the blade. Thus inspired, he rode to the temple and entered the darkness to reach for the Sword. With the Beast vanquished, my name would pass into the legends of the land. When wielded against an evil hand, the enemy is surely defeated.Īs the old man’s plea reached Gedwyn’s ears, he began to think: I would only have to draw the Sword from the temple and confront this dragon. Kept sheathed in the massive stone floor of a temple in the center of Ferrin, the Sword protected the Great Forest from evil for countless years. The Protectorate Sword was forged, it is told, in the fires of the gods. “You must use the Sword! The Sword is the only way to kill the vile creature!” “I will gather our best fighting men and ride to this place at once!” Gedwyn poised to spur on his horse. Images of thatched houses aflame and people fleeing in terror passed through his mind as the old man spoke. The Beast, Gedwyn knew, was a fiery dragon that lived amongst the craggy peaks of the mountains in the west. My village, which lies a day’s ride to the west, is being ravaged by the Beast of the Mountains … My family is in danger!” “Young sir,” he cried in a rattling voice. A young fighter named Gedwyn was riding on his steed through his village square when an old man approached him from the shadows of a sidestreet. It began one dreary day now thirty years passed. Good magics have vanished, and no longer are there brave warriors who wield weapons of steel against the land’s enemies. Evil spells wisp about like fog, draining courage and trust from the hearts of men. The misty powers of magic have settled over the Great Forest lands, twisting, swirling into every nook of the village of Ferrin.
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