Know, O Scholar, that in the years between the cataclysm of the destruction of Atlantis, and the rise of the people of the High Mountains, there was an age undreamt of, an age where the kingdoms of the world lay upon the world as glittering as the field of stars on the black velvet of the sky. Hither came the clan of the Demokles, sword in hand, pirates, rovers, swordsmen, with great virility and greater prowess, to break the rules and to make their mark on the world.
- The Numenorian Chronicles.
*
Damien journeyed on the path from the scene of the border raid. Behind him lay the bodies of the raiders that had so foolishly intruded upon the peace of the fair country, and the body of the satiated woman who had been fortunate enough to escape with her life. The way to the kingdom of Eritronia(check) was through either if the two ways. One was through the trade routes that five days through the Scendona desert, and the other was through the Misty mountains, the true name of which was Magnutin. The pass through the mountains was reputed to be held by the bellicose Janhvar tribes, led by their shaman. There was also the rumour of a vast treasure within the mountain, the secret to which was guarded by the tribe.
Damien stood at the crossroads and contemplated the choices. The trade wagons rumbled past him on their way to Eritronia through the desert. He looked up at the Misty mountains and the familiar thrill of adventure and recklessness come over him.
"What's life without a few challenges?" he said to his trusty steed.
The pass was dark and foreboding. Impossibly high walls reached upon one side, as if trying to capture the Sun itself and the other side looked into a gaping abyss, the bottom of which was lost in shadow.
"Brrrr... I certainly don't want fall in there." thought Damien as he rode on. It was bitterly cold on the mountain and he wished he had brought some warm clothing with him form the bodies of the brigands he had slain.
So absorbed was he with the thoughts of the border raid and the wanton pleasure thereafter that he did not notice that pairs of eyes were watching him from the ledges above. Being supremely confident of his martial abilities, it is hard to be sure of whether he would have cared if he had noticed them. He camped on a ledge for the night, wrapping himself up the best he could against the cold.
The morning brought hope to Damien's heart. One more day, and he would be in Eritronia. He laughed aloud at the thought, and jerked his reins. The pass widened into a valley, and the vegetation soon changed from sparse moss to stunted trees to a coniferous forest. Riding on through the forest, Damien was surprised to notice a strange form of vegetation protruding from a bush. It was a female posterior, and of such perfect shape and size as to set his manhood to attention immediately. He alighted from his horse in one swift movement, and just as swiftly drew his sword without a sound. Proceeding silently to the bush he shot a hand into the bush and drew out, accompanied by an indigent squawk, a young and nubile woman who was dressed in the most outlandish clothes -- a headdress of feathers, a mans shirt, and a tattered skirt that hung to her ankles in the back and was cut to her thigh on the front.
"Release me, you fool!" the woman shrieked. Suddenly the forest around filed with the creak of arrows being nocked and drawn. Damien reacted instinctively, securing his back against the nearest tree, and bringing the woman in front as a human shield.
"Go ahead, shoot." He snarled, holding his sword to the throat of the woman.
