<span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #0080FF"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">The cool morning dew spilled over the hills, swirling about their ankles languidly, as they marched onward trying to cover as much ground as possible as the sun just began to light up the darkened skies. The ground was soft beneath their feet and more than one man or woman cursed in the still dark as they lost their footing in quickening muck. The squelch of leather, the soft tread of boots put down one after the other, the heavy labored breathing, and the wailing of children too tired to continue on echoed off behind them. As the sun made its steady rise into the sky a few of the caravan looked back with torn faces. Stopping momentarily to observe the thick black plumes of smoke rise from the North East. Their homes lay in ruins, friends and loved ones in ashes, and every hope and dream they shared shattered to pieces in a single night.<br/><br/>“Don't bother looking back!”<br/><br/>The deep graveled voice echoed from further up the line. The man the voice belonged to twisted back into his saddle after calling back and bade his horse to pick up her loping gait. The weathered lines around his steely eyes deepening their creases as he fought back tears of his own. Everyone had lost something or someone in the attack. Onward they marched, the remnants of a once great kingdom now lost.</span></div></span><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40"><br/><div style="text-align: center;">So fell the kingdom of Aerelaith. Her people scattered to the four corners of the continent living as nomads and refugees for years to come. One man though, made a camp on the far southern borders, and as time passes word of his new army spread. A city was erected and those who took their kingdom before began to take notice. This man was no ordinary citizen of Aerelaith. He was the one who led her people away in its final hours. The former kings most trusted servant. The King's Guard Captain Myrac Ravensborne.</div></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #000000"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold">Twenty Years Later</span></div></span><br/><br/>The craggy rocks beneath her threatened to twist the young woman's ankle as she fought valiantly. Her blades clashing into the broadsword crashing towards her head. She held back a cry as her arms began to burn from the struggle of holding off the heavy blows raining upon her. Knowing she was almost at her limit she tossed aside her left blade and tightened both hands firmly upon the grip of her main hand. She turned keeping pace with her opponent, her steely blue eyes studying the older mans every move, awaiting her moment to finally strike. He remained composed, untouched by her blades, in stark contrast to her current state.<br/><br/>Her breath was becoming haggard, sweat and blood mingling to stain her once white riding shirt, and try as she might thick strands of her dark unruly hair kept slipping from her tie into her face. She kept light on her feet though and expertly danced her way through his advances. It was breaking through his guard she was unable to execute. Each sharp cut made into her skin was from the blades lining his arm bracers. The man seemed slow and languid on his feet when swinging the large broadsword. but whenever she got too close he was much more dangerous. <br/><br/>“Come on Lass. Surely you can do better than that!” He taunted parrying a blow from her and delivering a quick uppercut into her unguarded left side that caught her unawares.<br/><br/>Coughing the young woman stumbled back out of range. Pain pinched her brow as she tried to ignore the stabbing pain that now seared through her with every uneven breath. Under her shirt both new and old bruises transformed her once fair skin into a motley of new colors. <br/><br/>“You are not strong enough yet to parry a blow alone with your offhand so disregarding it was a wise move. Though...”<br/><br/>The broadside of his massive blade came cleaving towards her exposed back as the man had maneuvered around her as she tried to recover. His hard eyes watching as she dived forward and rolled under the blade's wide arc. As he expected she took up the disregarded blade as she came to a knee and awaited his next attack.<br/><br/>“Training you so early with both blades means you rely entirely upon that second blade to be your guard and primary defense. I may have to break your left wrist so that you are forced to learn the proper way.”<br/><br/>He advanced as she cursed and scattered away. Her feet kicking up a plume of dust on the dry packed dirt of the arena. She could hear the sound of the immense blade making its way through the air behind her. The blade just missing her back as she darted forward trying to devise a final plan. The last thing she wanted was to have him break her wrist just to prove a long argued point to her.<br/><br/>“I don't think breaking my wrist will help me strengthen it in the long term!” She cried out as she pirouetted about to face him. <br/><br/>A momentary cry of surprise met her lips as she found he was already back within striking range and his blade swinging up high to deliver a cleaving strike down upon her. Her body shifted into attack mode and without regard to his massive blade about to split her in half she lunged forward with enough power to drive her blade completely through his chest.<br/><br/>“Camyra!” A hoarse cry went up from somewhere to her right.<br/><br/>The massive broadsword was barely checked by her instructor as he leaped back to avoid her lunge. Off balance though, his own wrist snapped as he twisted the blade at the last moment. The flat of the blade still coming to crash down upon her skull as the blaze of triumph in her eyes still flared. Then there was only darkness for the woman.</span>