your heart gives you life . . . But your soul defines who you are. A terrible evil threatens the world of Elimnia as a treacherous sorceress plans to resurrect her dark lord, The Black Dragon. With her horde army she searches the lands of Morlose to find an ancient suit of armor that contains but one half of her lords soul. With it she will give to her dark lord a new king and together they will bring destruction to the world of man, elf, dwarves and myth. Now with the guidance of the dragon council six worthy warriors must embark on the long and dangerous journey to seeking out the lost armor of the dragon warriors and learn to wield the power of the dragon souls in order to stop the sorceress from completing her diabolical scheme. Will the dragons be able to find the six warriors and unlock the secrets to a forgotten ancient power? Or will the world fall into the shadow of the Black Dragon.
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Eyes look down at hands made sturdy and strong, quick with a sword and steady with a bow. Hands carved of calluses from hard labor, fingers stained brown from the digging of forest floors. Today those hands feel not so strong. Curled around Salamay's fingers sticking, to sweaty palms is a rolled up scroll delivered at his doorstep earlier this morning. The elf stands before the gates of his elders awaiting his meeting as he has been summoned.
On each side, he finds giant elf statues, each wielding in their hand a sword pointing to the stars. Tucked under their left arm is a stack of scrolls and books. The sword represents power and the books knowledge. "Without wisdom, one cannot obtain victory," a saying Salamay's people live and die by.
Finally, after waiting nearly an hour, he hears the gates come to life with sounds of grunts and squeaks. Many would consider this an honor to speak to the high elders but Salamay cannot help but feel a sense of discomfort.
Salamay calmly made his way through the courtyard of lush green plants and ripen trees. This is the only plant life growing in his home of Vonqway. Beautiful flowers bloom and twist around small statues of Elven children; vines crawl up and down the sides of vases and pots. The sound of fountain water trickles in his sensitive pointy ears. The over exuberant smell of the green life reminds Salamay of the forest sitting around the city right behind the Wall Of Melmeze.
The dirt path soon ended leading Salamay to a large round stone on the ground. Four pillars surround the circle; each wrapped and twisted with purple vines protected by sharp black thorns. As he approached, the stone symbols on the pillars came to life illuminating in bright blue energy, none of which he could understand. As he stepped onto the stone, the ground groaned with clunking sounds of shifting. Twisting plates rotated and unwound underneath his feet slowly lowering the stone into the ground.
Salamay fed his hand to the darkness trying to feel a wall or the ground. His hand felt nothing solid only causing little ripples of magic screaming in bright purples and blues.
Finally, after being lost in his train of thought, the glowing stone came to a stop. The only light that was glowing was from under his feet. After several seconds of waiting in the lonesome dark, a blue energy started to leak off the stone and quickly crept through the darkness. Twisting and crackling, the streams grew brighter, and brighter all coming together now to form a small blue ball of crackling energy. Suddenly a giant flash of light erupted across the dark. Salamay covered his face from the flash. When he opened his eyes, he found an enormous diamond crystal the size of a small house pulsating with blue energy.
One by one torches shot alive flickering with orange fire. The darkness soon vanished, leaving Salamay finding himself in a giant room molded of crystal and rock. Shelves and tables stood piled and over stuffed with scrolls and colorful potions and brews. On each corner of the crystal arose massive pillars four in all, sculpted out of the same crystal rock as the room. Looking at the ceiling he can see sharp jagged crystals growing like icicles.
"Welcome Salamay, loyal son of Vonqway and great warrior of the Mahorah." A raspy voice spoke from atop the pillar to his right. The pillars are much too tall, forcing Salamay to strain his neck just to glimpse the top. In the center an elderly elf sat Indian style with his hands in praying position. Eyes looked down upon the welcomed Mahorah.
The Mahorah are unlike their common cousins, who have hair dark as the night and eyes the color of the morning sky. The Mahorah's hair is grey as ash and eyes to match. Salamay wore his hair tight in a ponytail, traditional style of the Mahorah males. Falling loosely to the right side of his face is a good chunk of hair braided tightly in leathery straps with a small blue feather hanging from the bottom. The Mahorah are not people of fancy armor or charming jewelry, and the common wear is more robe and loose fabrics. Salamay wears a simple vest revealing his well-toned arms and chest. Revealed for all to see, is the scar that scratches deep across his left peck, all the way down to his belly button. An over sized black sash covers his waist that's holding up his baggy, grey robe like pants. Laced to his feet are soft black leather boots that are stained grey of soot from the volcanic dust scattered throughout the city.
Another trademark of the Mahorah is the love of tattoos, worn mostly by the warriors and the wise. Salamay is no exception, and wears his markings proudly. Spirals of black ink cover the left side of his face. The ink runs down his left arm spreading onto his chest decorating his peck.
Salamay knelt to one knee, bowing his head in respect to the elder perched on the pillar. "Rise warrior of Vonqway." The voice came echoing from the far left pillar. Staring up Salamay could roughly make out a face of long beard and sagging face.
"I have received your request of my meeting but I stand before you confused. You speak of my son." Salamay's eyes shifted to the elder on the closest right pillar. The elders' face is blank, motionless as if looking threw Salamay.
"Visions have been shown to us, we have spent many moons pondering what these visions could mean, like a puzzle they are, only partially fitted. A path your son must take, this we are sure of."
"Path, is he to become a warrior like myself?" A sense of pride over joyed Salamay's heart yet at the same time it frightened him.
"We have watched over you as you've trained the boy. Showing him the ways of the warrior. The bow and blade lie skilled in such young hands. However the boys' mind must be taught as well, when this is done he must come before us, only then can his path be decided." The final few words slipped from the elders tongue and the questions came swift to Salamay's mind but he knows the elders speak wise and pure.
"Then I will do my best to teach him all that I know."
"When we feel he is ready we will summon you once more. We wish you well, great warrior." The elders nodded their heads in farewell as the light in the room slowly died leaving Salamay alone once more in the dark. A trail of a blue glow led the way back to the stone and up he went. Left to so many unanswered questions he can only hope that in time he can begin to understand what it is the elders truly seek with his son.
........Four Years Later......
A blade falls quickly from Kimkay's left, and the young elf simply slapped the blade away with his own. Taking two steps to the right and on the third he threw a quick jab at his opponent. His blade found nothing more then air and was brought back to block a hard blow to the head.
"Come on you can do better then that old timer_" Kimkay slid the cocky remark half grinning. The feel of the windy breeze drifting through the forest feels good against Kimkay's sweating hands and face. The sound of flowing water drawing near tells him the battle has taken him deeper into the woods then he thought.
Kimkay dodged behind a giant oak just as a blade swung for his face. The sword sank deep into the tree trunk leaving it bleeding of sap. "You'll cut down the entire forest before your blade will ever lay a scratch on me."
"Your...
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