lightly with its powerful beak. Will looked frightened and took a step back, confused. The mysterious voice laughed, and the griffin before Will clicked its beak, amused. Here, I am the one talking to you. I assume you have never conversed through the mental link. Will shook his head in disbelief. It was the griffin speaking to him!
You have much to learn, but there is great potential inside you, anyone can sense that. The power at your disposal is unlike any I have felt in all my years at this school. It is strange and unfamiliar to me, and yet I feel as though you have already become accustomed to it. You and your people are unique, Furialist, in that you do not need to access a foreign source to summon your magic. Your power is inherent, flooding throughout you, though you may not notice as that is how you are always.
“But, how? Good Lord of Griffins, if you know anything of my inner strength, please explain that at which you hint. What is this power? My father would not tell me,” Will asked aloud.
The link between him and the griffin grew uncomfortable as the creature picked through his memories, learning everything about him. Several recruits looked around to stare at Will. He must have looked very strange talking to a beast about his father.
Ah, now I see, the griffin sighed in Will’s head. You are the Brightflame, yet you are confused and ill informed. Bless you, for you are as innocent as you are brave. I may as well start from the beginning. You wish me to lift the veil and lay all bare? Very well, this courtesy I will do you. It is safer now to know what you are than it is to live blind to the knowledge.
You are one of the last of your kind, a remnant of a once proud and powerful people. Natural magicians of sorts, they could manipulate fire and speak to beasts. They excelled in many professions but felt most at home hunting and fighting for their lives on the battlefields of Gammalgard. Skills in this area made them valuable mercenaries, and quickly they became the wealthy and uncontested rulers of a large nation in the far north. These great warriors were called the Furialists. This is the story of their beginnings.
Once a long time ago, the elves, dwarves, dragons, and other sentient creatures of this land lived in relative peace. For a thousand years this peace flourished and with it, arts and architectures such of such wonder the world has not seen since. When a previously obscure tribe of nomadic men came to this land from the Southern Shores, this age of peace was broken.
The nomads carved out a territory of their own, slaying many elves and forcing more from their homes. In reaction, the elves took revenge. After winning a decisive victory over the Dinadun, as the tribe called themselves, the elves attempted to forge peaceful relations with them, believing their enemy defeated, but the fierce tribes refused their offers of amity. Dinadun tribesmen rallied the dwarves to their side with deceit and propaganda, leading a conquest to drive the elves away from the newly conquered Dinadun lands. The quick-breeding men of the Southern Shores and their dwarven contingents heavily outnumbered the resisting forces. The Dinadun won battle after battle, slaughtering every elf man they could. Sustaining such heavy losses, the e lven army was soon decimated, and the few male elves that survived were hunted down without mercy. Without mates, the elven nation toppled, and the remainder of that long-lived people retreated into the depths of Mor Forest.
The Dinadun had won, creating an oppressive dictatorship they called the Empire. The Empire expanded in every direction, thriving for centuries. Thriving that is until a Furialist army marched against them.
I am not certain as to how the Furialists came to be, but their army, wielding fire and flame, emerged from Mor Forest laying waste to any Imperial
You have much to learn, but there is great potential inside you, anyone can sense that. The power at your disposal is unlike any I have felt in all my years at this school. It is strange and unfamiliar to me, and yet I feel as though you have already become accustomed to it. You and your people are unique, Furialist, in that you do not need to access a foreign source to summon your magic. Your power is inherent, flooding throughout you, though you may not notice as that is how you are always.
“But, how? Good Lord of Griffins, if you know anything of my inner strength, please explain that at which you hint. What is this power? My father would not tell me,” Will asked aloud.
The link between him and the griffin grew uncomfortable as the creature picked through his memories, learning everything about him. Several recruits looked around to stare at Will. He must have looked very strange talking to a beast about his father.
Ah, now I see, the griffin sighed in Will’s head. You are the Brightflame, yet you are confused and ill informed. Bless you, for you are as innocent as you are brave. I may as well start from the beginning. You wish me to lift the veil and lay all bare? Very well, this courtesy I will do you. It is safer now to know what you are than it is to live blind to the knowledge.
You are one of the last of your kind, a remnant of a once proud and powerful people. Natural magicians of sorts, they could manipulate fire and speak to beasts. They excelled in many professions but felt most at home hunting and fighting for their lives on the battlefields of Gammalgard. Skills in this area made them valuable mercenaries, and quickly they became the wealthy and uncontested rulers of a large nation in the far north. These great warriors were called the Furialists. This is the story of their beginnings.
Once a long time ago, the elves, dwarves, dragons, and other sentient creatures of this land lived in relative peace. For a thousand years this peace flourished and with it, arts and architectures such of such wonder the world has not seen since. When a previously obscure tribe of nomadic men came to this land from the Southern Shores, this age of peace was broken.
The nomads carved out a territory of their own, slaying many elves and forcing more from their homes. In reaction, the elves took revenge. After winning a decisive victory over the Dinadun, as the tribe called themselves, the elves attempted to forge peaceful relations with them, believing their enemy defeated, but the fierce tribes refused their offers of amity. Dinadun tribesmen rallied the dwarves to their side with deceit and propaganda, leading a conquest to drive the elves away from the newly conquered Dinadun lands. The quick-breeding men of the Southern Shores and their dwarven contingents heavily outnumbered the resisting forces. The Dinadun won battle after battle, slaughtering every elf man they could. Sustaining such heavy losses, the e lven army was soon decimated, and the few male elves that survived were hunted down without mercy. Without mates, the elven nation toppled, and the remainder of that long-lived people retreated into the depths of Mor Forest.
The Dinadun had won, creating an oppressive dictatorship they called the Empire. The Empire expanded in every direction, thriving for centuries. Thriving that is until a Furialist army marched against them.
I am not certain as to how the Furialists came to be, but their army, wielding fire and flame, emerged from Mor Forest laying waste to any Imperial
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