Millennia aft the great divide, the result of the nonamoon prophecy did spawn the arrival of one of minor significance, and yet enormous potential. Awesome conflicts were beheld, and not so many did this one conquer as by which were subdued.
As an unassuming infant, the trauma and struggles of life in the steppes would prove to batter and bruise the spirit, physically and emotionally deteriorating the mystical barriers so often employed by great and brave forefathers -- his lineal kin. And in consequent generations would he again repeatedly vault into battle and return, yet scathed and ever sundered. As with the inhabitants of the sibling fragments of that once glorious continent, the peoples of this vast land would endure constant struggle simply to avert their demise. And the one bearing the legendary appellation of a once mighty viking lord heralding from the northern Skedenig was mournfully no exception.
As the ages unfolded, his notoriety and countenance did follow; war became no stranger in his weary sight. Would that he had been borne of less auspicious circumstance, contentment would be fully guaranteed. Alas, this bane permitted no lamentation and the gates of his kingdom were ever defiled by the rage of bloodshed and violence. It was in fact determined that of these conflicts -- more often than would his generals deign to admit -- the majority were propounded from within! Imagine the mortification!
It was near the culmination of the third age of his reign when this treason was uprooted and harmony within was once again reinstated. Naturally, vexation would never abate in the form of the besiegement by rival legions, as well as that of the weathers of nature. The improved overall aura of harmony would, however, give strength to the spirit of the people, directly supporting the faculty to repel the advances of potential oppressors. Better days lay ahead. Now is that promising epoch...
July 2nd, 2010