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Most stories don’t have a true beginning. You could begin with the birth of a prince…yet then you ignore the deeds of the prince’s family line, or their enemies, or the birth and deeds of the companions in his life.

You could begin with the death of an elven maiden before the eyes of her true love, but then do you ignore the years of them running happily through the trees together?

You could begin with the meeting of a half orc and a gnome – but what destiny brought them to that meeting?

And what about the catfolk that makes her way across the hills…where do you decide her story begins…?

You could go back further…much further….so far back that even the elves have forgotten what they did, to a time of blood and war and magic so powerful it filled the universe.

Most stories don’t have an exact beginning, in fact most beginning start somewhere in the middle….

It was a warm night on all hallows eve in the city of Himesh….

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