1st Century

Prologue: Earth and her Children

Earth at the creation

Nature at its purest and most colourful. Every pollen, flower and tree growing and alive with colour and wondrous beauty. At the dawn of time the Sons of the Earth lived peacefully, as one with the Earth, physically and spiritually connected to every fibre and fabric of nature. Forest and sea gods roamed the lush green and sapphire blue oceans and vast network of woodlands while elementals, giant creatures of rock and earth walked the landscape, their presence a powerful addition to the forces of nature. Among many of the children of the earth the elves looked most like the natural wonders around them. With pure, willowy skin, bark like chips dappling their faces, pointed ears the most prominent feature of their species. The elves of Earth had a connection to nature that sometimes even the most intellectual of fey failed to understand. Trolls, Ogres, Fairies, Imps and other fey lived in harmony together, the children of the Earth living purely on the natural resources of the Earth and their connection to one another. Their society was peaceful, and nothing would break the bond these creatures shared with Mother Nature. All fey were at peace, whether it was in the trees, in the seas, in the air or on the ground, through the roots and soil that was their life blood. The Earth around them their essence, their way of life. It was a blessed time to be alive: When life on Earth was at its most spectacular.

Bamba Arealia, one of the children of the Earth was taking a gentle stroll through the forests to the north. These woodlands, large and expansive, forests lush and every shade of green covering a large surface of the Earth. She was one the youngest elves in the clan and considered her life a blessing to be made of the Earth. Life was in abundant here, with knolls of twisted wood and roots spreading through the cool mossy and grass covered ground. Flowers of every shade of blue, red, pink and yellow bloomed in a myriad of colours and silken petals around the vast woodland while butterflies and birds of every species fluttered and flew from flowers and the tops of trees. Being a young elven woman Bamba's beauty had turned the head of many an elven male as she passed by, tree like markings etched into her willowy skin, the Bethmoora clan birthmark a long-curved line running across her cheeks and nose. Beautiful, full golden eyes sparkled with mirth as her long white blonde hair ran down her back, tips of her pointed ears showing beneath. She wore a long blue and gold dress, the hem of which trailed along the mossy ground, the fresh and cool scent of the woodland enticing to her senses as she basked in the riches of the summer season. A high wasted golden belt wrapped around her middle. Pollen particles hummed in the air as the brilliant morning sun shone in dappled patches through the towering, twisting trees. Gnarls and knolls of wood twisted and weaved through the forest, with creepers, vines and mossy strands hanging down from the branches. This was her favourite time of year as a beautiful blue and black butterfly, wings rimmed with gold fluttered onto her finger as she cupped the lovely creature in her hands as she examined him before releasing him back to the air with a gentle upward motion of her hands. She spied the largest tree of the northern woods towering before her like a rugged yet protective giant, the majesty and power it radiated, large plume of leaves sheltering the forest from the heat of the day. Bamba strode up to the tree, placing a silken hand on its rough yet pleasant bark as she felt the connection form between her and another beautiful natural being on Earth. It was a bond that was only understood but creatures of the Earth, not humanity. They could never understand. A powerful connection existed between all the creatures and nature on Earth and it would be that bond that would bring them everlasting peace against the greed and destruction man would reign down upon the Earth.

She cocked her head slightly to hear a clash of elven steel and decided to investigate, walking further into the glen and her heart leapt as she saw the elven prince and his father sparring. She knew they were just training, and this was a friendly contest, but then remembered her lord's competitive nature. He won all contests on the battlefield even if today was supposed to be a friendly training session. The young elven woman wrapped in blue and gold just stood and watched in awe at their speed of their movements, fends, parries, feints and offenses too fast for the normal human eye or reflex to keep up with. But she was a creature of the Earth, not an ordinary being like man. She hoped they wouldn't spy her watching but she'd always wanted to see the prince fight since she was a little girl, her father telling her stories about his legendary prowess in combat and how someday a threat would come to destroy them and their world, spreading over the land like a plague and he would be the only one strong enough to quell it. Watching with an intense fascination, Bamba stood behind a tree, golden eyes shimmering within the fair onset of her face. Then she heard them speak, father and son a combination on the battle so formidable that she knew not of any Earth force that could ever defeat them. The elven king, King Balor was in his prime, his skill as a warrior having been honed from birth trained by his own father and the kings before as his head bore the small tips of antlers which were beginning to show: A mere sign of his aging but a symbol that showed his connection to the Earth, the very forest they were standing in, every bud and bloom of life around him. His face was stern yet kind, baring the bark like chips in his face however these were more defined, deeper, as the elves became more Earth like as they aged. Grey strands were beginning to mingle with his long white hair as he wore a sleek red fighting garment, the royal seal of Bethmoora, an intricate golden tree of life emblazoned on his chest. Brown boots of the softest material, muffled his tread, never stirring the life sprouting and taking shape beneath him as the elven king was always wary of the life around him, having a more profound connection than most. He knew how every seed grew, what colour each flower would become, how each animal lived, the daily cycle of a forest god. The prince honed as a warrior from birth, picking up his first blade of elven steel at the age of five. Since then his father had been training him, honing his body and mind for combat until he could stand on his own two feet. Then suddenly his voice snapped, harsh, almost brutal as it pained Bamba watching on to see her prince bested again by the king in battle, his black armoured back hitting the ground as again his latest efforts were seen off by the king of the Earth. Bamba almost willing him to succeed. She knew this was a friendly contest but that's not how Nuada saw it. Furious at being defeated again the young prince glowered at his father from the ground, golden eyes burning with a fierce determination that his father could not fault him for, however he was going to have to hone his skills if he was to match him and stand by his side in battle. Soil from the forest floor flecked his skin and long white hair as his weapon, a beautiful crafted elven spear was kicked out of his reach by his father's foot across the leaf strewn ground as he pointed one of his twin blades at his armoured chest. Furious at being defeated the prince seethed in fury, glaring up at the looming crimson and gold figure of his father above him.

"No, my son! I thought I trained you to fight better than that. Now again!" Balor commanded fiercely as with an acrobatic flick of his legs the prince squirmed out from underneath his father's blade and in an elegant hue of black and red as he soared over the tips of his father's antler's landing the other side of him, retrieving his spear from the ground. He spun the weapon over and over his black gloved hand waiting for his father's next attack. He closed his dark rimmed eyes, listening to the tranquil sounds of nature around him and lost himself in them for a moment, his father's words from a previous battle being recalled to mind. Rage will serve you no purpose in battle my son. It is temporary fuel but can burn out quickly. When you become calm, at one with your abilities and your surroundings you can destroy any opponent. Remember young Nuada if you anger you will never defeat me. Feeling the rage disperse at the memory of his father's words he was ready. "Most impressive my son. You remember your rage will not serve you. Now I'm going to attack again" Balor stated his intentions clearly, possibly to lay a trap for the fleet footed elven warrior, but he was not baited.

"I'm ready father" Nuada stood his ground, Balor spinning his own blades in his hands waiting for his son to make the first attack. In the end Balor struck, the blade in his right hand aiming straight for his chest but it sliced harmlessly through thin air as the prince almost sensed his father's movements and acted accordingly. The prince wore a sleek light black garment which wouldn't impede his movements, while a light armoured black battle tunic covered his chest. A crimson belt wrapped around his waist with the Bethmoora crest also displayed centre. His black patterned boots not stirring the forest floor beneath him as he too was aware of the many buds and seeds of life under the soil and sought not to disturb them. The tree like bark etchings were sketched into the handsome onset of his face, entrancing ochre coloured eyes shimmering in the sun, dark rimmed eyes and lips heightening the attractiveness of his face. His pointed ears pointing through his long white blonde hair.

He also remembered his father telling him that if you fought the same opponent for long enough you could memorise several patterns in their fighting or signature moves which you could train yourself to remember and counter. Nuada knew what his father had intended and swerved nimbly out of the path of the sharp tipped blade, as becoming victim to his own frustration Balor pressed the attack with both his weapons, but the prince moved with dextrous grace, a fleet footed dance, not putting a step out of place as he parried, dodged and weaved out of harm's way again and again until Balor put a little distance between them and beamed proudly.

"You have grown well my Nuada. You are now the warrior you were destined to be. Your mother would be proud" Balor's voice radiating the same wisdom of the ages that it always carried but Nuada blocked the image of her from his head. It would only distract him. It had always left a hole in his heart that he and his sister had never formed a bond with the woman who had brought them into this world. But reminiscing was for later, the present was here and now. His opponent before him, the elven king, one of the finest warriors of Earth herself and he would defeat him, just as he had done throughout their multiple sparring encounters.

"Are you going to attack me or not?!" Nuada retaliated impatiently, handle of his spear in his hand, staring his father down as he wanted to end this confrontation. To show his father once and for all that he was the better fighter. All royal elven weapons were elaborately crafted, almost Middle Eastern in patterns and origins and the prince's spear was no exception, spiralling and twisted lines etched over the handle.

"As you wish my son" Balor grinned with sport as he leapt into the air, his father surprising the prince sometimes with how acrobatic he could be. Despite his age the elven king was still in his prime and a deadly opponent to anyone on the battlefield. He arched and weaved through the air in a whirl of red and gold as he shot down from the air and aimed his blades straight down but before he could make contact the prince was gone, almost vanished into thin air. Stunned slightly Balor examined the woodland around him, letting his senses take over, attuning him to his surroundings. The trees were almost whispering to him, telling him to keep his guard. He sensed his son was behind him and readied an attack but before he could launch forward a black and red blur shot down from the tree above him like a bullet, as his spear extended on rapid decent, scything his father's legs from underneath him as he pointed the tip of the spear with pinpoint precision to his neck. Feeling the fire spiral in his chest the prince relished in his victory as he swiped a black gauntlet arm across his face marred with soil and perspiration. Balor knew he was defeated. There was no chance of him retrieving his weapons and getting back to his feet, not with the speed and deadly abilities his son possessed. His heartbeat had barely risen five beats above normal at best and his breathing had slightly quickened in his chest but that was nothing. An elven warrior homed in combat had ten times the stamina of any man.

"Surrender!" the prince ordered in their tongue, old Irish Gaelic and the king knew when he was beaten as father and son locked gazed and a mutual understanding was formed; a powerful bond between two of Earth's finest soldiers. After a few moments the king accepted a strong haul from the prince to get to his feet before the pair embraced each other, grinning widely, sharing comradery punches on the shoulder.

"That was most impressive my son. You fought well. You have always listened and taken my words to heart and you stand before me a fully-fledged warrior. You are true to your word my Nuada. I have nothing more to teach you" the king complimented as the prince rapped a hand across his breastbone and bowed low at the waist, knowing to acknowledge praise and a worthy challenge when he was given one.

"Thank you, father. As did you. I was honoured to train under your hand and am the fighter I am today because of you" the prince paid his own compliment in kind as they both brushed the dirt from their fighting garments before the demeanour changed in the prince's body language and he clutched his spear tighter in his elegant gloved grip, holding it at his side as if he felt threatened. He was attuned with every note, every sound on this world made by all creatures and flora and fauna and this sound was out of the ordinary. Bamba had been so fascinated by the spectacle she had just witnessed she wanted to retreat when the fight was over, leaving the father and son to spend time on their own. Her feet however were not as dextrous as she stepped backwards on a loose branch which made an audible snap. With his keen senses she knew he had heard her. She knew they'd find her as the prince instantly snapped his gaze over to the tree she had been hiding behind and knew she had to reveal herself. She only hoped they would forgive her.

"You sense something my son. I sense it as well" Balor spoke calmly, the forest telling him they were not alone as Nuada edged forward, golden eyes blazing with fire.

"Yes father. We're being watched…"