Post by skinwalker on Nov 15, 2012 11:48:42 GMT 10
CHAPTER ONE
At the heart of every good war story, lies a critical enterprise for those willing to conquer it. The protagonist; a force to be reckoned with, a villain confirming his loyalty to the coat of arms. Nothing but a shell awaiting relinquish from it’s tiresome duties, held up to an ear in the hope that someone may hear it’s pleas. Destined to become the name that is rung out as battle cries, across vast landscapes all over the country, that stretch not only the distance but also throughout history.
Our story begins within the deep reaches of time. The year reading 1484, a period when the great Richard III of England was to lead into his second year as King. The villagers only a few miles down from the magnificent castle live in perpetual solitude when it is compared to the ravage and heinous activities that go on at King Richard’s locks every single night. There would be cattle roaming the free fields just to graze, and in no less than a second were they feared off by the roaring ramblings of him and his “assistants”, and the bright candle light that would follow. Of all the English, and of all the Welsh, and of all the Scottish, there was no man more noble and dangerous than Richard. Except, for one small boy, who had inside him the secrets to an unforgiving power which, unbeknownst to his fellow committees, would become the break in which separated the rich from the poor.
There is a mechanism, that bounds itself to the roots of our entire planet. This machine is not only an ode to the many that have attempted to revive it from it’s cryptic strains, but also a reminder that with fewer words spoken, actions shall be the first sign of hope amongst men. With every step this young boy took, his tattered leather and rope-laced boots imprinted themselves on what is now to become our quest, for the unforgiving power that lies beneath.
The only question now is… Where has our boy, his trustful wolf companion and his need for this desired sound been treading?
