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Know, O prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars – Kal-Zinan, Ikath, Rime, Katagia, with its arenas and fighters, Lomar of the legions of bronze, Marg the Crimson, full of slave markets and brutality, Thran and its dark circle of mages, Quodeth of the perilous alleys.

Icy death was even then bearing down on the peoples of Thule, but the barbaric tribes and only slightly more civilized cities were still producing epic champions, forged in the hearths of primitive combat and quenched in blood.

Let me tell you, my prince, of some who still strived in mighty Thule’s twilight, legends who are still remembered by the wise even today.

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