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Foreword:
Years ago the world of Kryzuhna stood in glory and all of its diverse races lived in harmony. The Elves of the Eastern Forests with their keen eyes and skills in magic, the Dwarves of the mountains with their fiery hearts, and the mortal men of the plains and deserts with their strong wills, all lived together and shared their cultures. However, peace lasts only so long among such different people.
The years of Chaos were upon Kryzuhna. The men were overtaken by their greedy need for power, and waged war on their Elvin brothers. Hedrin, the king of the mortal race lead his people to believe that the Elves were plotting to overtake their kingdom, which made the people wary of all other races. The men of the desert, being of darker complexion, were viewed as outsiders, and the men fought amongst themselves, leaving them vulnerable for a well executed Elvin attack.
The Dwarven people, viewing themselves as the higher race for not getting involved in petty squabbles amongst the other races, shut themselves out from the rest of the world and resided in their mountain dwellings.
The deities worshipped by the Kryzuhnites were displeased by the act of war cast by the people. The punishment for this act, and the only thing that would stop it would be total isolation of the races. So they sent their wrath in the form of a meteor, to strike the world and isolate the races. This would later be known as the Great Isolation.
The effect of the Great Isolation left what remained of the mortal kingdom on the western side of the world, which would come to be known as Krylaar, and the Elves on the eastern side, later to be known as Zuhlaar. The Dwarves were left unharmed by the Gods and remained in there volcanic stronghold, still thriving.
The remains of the great meteor were cast into the ocean in between the two continents. The meteor caused most of the animals that lived in the ocean to become mutant creatures. These creatures resembled the sea creatures they once were, but have features of beings native to land, also. This made the creatures a hideous sight, and struck fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes on them. This land, meaning death to anyone who approached it, remained uncharted for years. It came to be called the Desolate Unknown.
Years passed and the races of Kryzuhna forgot about each other. The world passed into the next era, the Years of Peace. They would remain excommunicated and separate until they are needed to ban together and face a new threat to their world…
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Chapter I
Azeron looked around his tiny keeping cell and frowned to himself. Day three, he thought. The tall man was none over twenty years of age with coal black eyes and hair the same shade of onyx that stood in great contrast to his fair skin. He sat in the corner of the small jail cell now, in nothing but a pair of tattered under shorts and a worn shirt. He had grown accustomed to the hard cold ground and it didn't bother him at all. He moved his head just enough to see the jailor use a rusty key to open the iron door.
"Its time," the man said, holding the door open for the immense prisoner. Azeron sat there, unmoving for a moment before he stood, which was a difficult task for a man in shackles. The iron braces were around both wrists and both ankles. They were connected by long chains with links as thick as a man's thumb.
Azeron followed the guard, armed with a short sword at his left hip out of the cell and down a long corridor. The hall was lined with neighboring cells on either side. The corridor led to a set of giant wooden doors guarded by an archer on either side. Azeron saw the arrowheads gleam in the dim light of the torches that were hung on the walls on either side of the doors. The two men heaved the doors open and Azeron and his escort stepped through..........................
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