The Legend of Moran

It all happened on a cool day of Autumn, many years before the great fire of Padorn. The mist had invaded the whole country and even though it was still early in the afternoon, a continual darkness was covering the land. The War had now started over a century and a half ago. At this date, The strong forces of Goarhuk had conquered the southern part of Grassland and had wiped away almost all forms of life in Avalon, with his armies of orcs.

His forces were growing stronger everyday while he slowly advanced his way to the south, to invade the city of Padorn. Padorn was then one of few cities left with soldiers still within its walls. Many who had the strength and the good fortune of fleeing from Avalon came seeking refuge within the walls of Padorn. At the head of the remaining soldiers was a man known by the name of Moran Eghiliel. Moran was a strong man who has lead his forces to many victories in the past. Many years had he lived on Xyllomer, but the time never seemed to move fast enough for him as he has strangely kept on a youthful countenance for a man who was, according to many, over 100 years of age. In fact, this remarkable fact got him the name of Eghiliel amoung the elves, which means the Warrior of Time.

Aware of the presence of the forces of Goarhuk to the north and fearing to be put under seige by them, Moran decided it was in their best interest to march toward his ennemy instead of waiting for him. He also thought that by acting in such way, he would benifit of an element of surprise. He also thougth that by moving toward the ennemy, he might have a chance to meet Goarhuk who usually never came near the battlefield when his troups were invading.

So Moran gathered all the men he could find to go fight the armies of Goarhuk, and on this cool day of Autumn, Moran marched out the north gate of Padorn, followed by an army of brave warriors, bandits and merceneries who all had united their forces for a common goal: their lives and their families lives. Among his ranks, were also some wise mages of Avalon who had managed to escape when Goarhuk invaded their land. Almost all the men and even some women were all gathered together on this day. And as tha bards were raising the armie's moral with their songs, they started their journey intoe the northern woods of Padorn, toward their destiny.

A few hours after the sun had passed his climax over the sky of Xyllomer, the two forces finally meet. Then, one of the biggest battles in the history of Xyllomer ensued. Taken by surprise, the armies of Goarhuk were disorganised and lost, at first, a great deal of warriors. But as his armies were more numerous than their opponents, they regained the advantage over Moran's forces. The battle was without mercy. Piles of bodies were covering the ground of the forest and plains. The leaves covering the ground were wearing their red colors of Autumn but this time, their usual coatinwere not the reason for their tarnish red color. The air was filled with screams of agony and pain and the darkness of the forest was occasionaly pierced by flashes of light and fireballs.

But as the sun was slowly hiding himself behind the horizon, the men of Moran were getting lesser and lesser. Then it happened. Moran's gaze meet the one of Goarhuk's himself. Driven by his courage, he ran towards him and as he ran he raised his Warblade into the air and challenged Goarhuk. People fleed from his path terrified by the fire in his eyes and by the rage and determination visible on his face. A furious battle then took place between Moran and Goarhuk. Moran was clearly winning the battle, piercing and slashing the flesh of Goarhuk on many occasions, leaving him wounds that any normal human would've died from. But as he raised his magnificent blade to strike the final blow, a cold feeling entered his body as a blade coming from behind him pierced his armour and his soul, throwing him to his knees.

Seeing the luck turn in his favour, Goarhuk smiled ironically at Moran as he was getting ready to stand up. But then, gathering all the strength left in his soul, Moran grabbed him by the leg and send him back on the floor. Then, rising to his knees and overbearing Goarhuk, Moran screamed and plunged his Warblade deep into the heart of Goarhuk. His scream was so loud, that the Legend says his voice was heard all over Padorn and Razza. After his strike, Moran collapsed on the ground and then as the Legend says all the souls of the dead warriors left their bodies and floated towards Moran's dead body, entering his corpse with flashes of light. His body was then lifted into the air and exploded in a thundering sound, in concert with bolts of lightning cutting across the clear sky of Xyllomer.

Inspired by the courage of Moran and their new faith in him, the few warriors left fought on with more energy than ever, lifted by a new strength, a new power they could feel on the battlefield. The orcs were then driven away into the woods by the fearless warriors. This is how an end was put to the War of Goarhuk, and this is how Moran left the mortal world to enter the Realms of the Gods. It is said that he is now omnipresent on all the battlefields, guiding all Warriors in their battle and standing by their side to face the enemy.