Woken before dawn to the creaks and groans of the structure swaying in the strong wind Sheridan Washburn was certainly not pleased. He'd been up late the evening before - staying too long at the tavern and neglecting the duties of the following day. Now the strong wind shook him out of his straw mattress, completely upending the maple-wood bed frame. Standing to his feet Sheridan dashed for the small window facing the broad western sea.

Below him Sheridan watched the small village of Port Merevalin come alive with activity for such a late hour. The sleepy island village was one of the first ports for returning captains, and served them well with a variety of taverns and modest inns. This was also one of the first lines of defense for Independence.

In the telling of any tale it is important to establish some history. History compels characters to press onward through perilous obstacles. These obstacles forge a future which is nothing less than legendary.

Our tale is one such epic concerning the foundation of a kingdom. A kingdom whose return was hoped for in the prayers of the people, but whose demise was plotted before inception by the sinister forces of this world. As events and adventures unfold they introduce The Adventurers who would finally establish the mighty kingdom one by one.

Fording the wide, but shallow and slow moving river, Blackbird McAllister hauled the final load of thick cedar planks onto the shore.  After nearly a week of chopping towering cedars into long timbers. Blackbird had spent the last few days reducing the trees into roughly hewed planks. Luckily he was rewarded with a pile of useful wood chips which would make fine kindling. There would be a lot of refining ahead if he had his way.

Now on the bank of the river, Blackbird begin stacking planks into the three small carts parked along the shoreline. The babbling river could be crossed here more easily than any other spot for several miles in either direction. But this still wasn’t the best place to harvest wood, or spend time with attention consuming distractions. The area was swarming with Lava Spiders and they had passed by Blackbird’s temporary camp much too closely several times.

Rounding the bend, Blackbird had to stop and catch his breath. He was getting too long in the tooth to scale such high mountains without the aid of a paved path or sturdy mount. The oppressive heat and musty humidity weren't helping. Droplets of water pooled and fell from his brow. His hair matted itself to the sides of his face where it hung down damp with sweat. The journey to find his lost charges had taken him to many corners of this unfamiliar continent, but the brilliance of this tropical place paled them all by any comparison.

Reaching into this backpack to draw out the waterskin, Blackbird was angered but not surprised to find it empty. He would have to seek out water, and soon if he wanted to find a suitable camp before darkness fell. The irony of his situation was not lost on Blackbird. Finding one self halfway to the peak of a mountain when water ran downhill would be a tough position for anyone. Forward to the peak, or back toward the brook he passed hours ago?