Dazzling Girdle

Before the clans of the North had come together, before the land of Nivemus had given birth to new life in the East Continent, a man traveled the lands of Old Rancagua. His name was Ares Firehammer, a young noble who had turned to the ways of an infiltrator.

He set sail away from the East Continent when Old Rancagua fell in the Great war, he had no destination in mind. He cooked in the blistering heat of the sun, right above the cool ocean waves, eventually, the hallucinations set in. He had given up hope of returning to his homeland and starting his life anew... His country gone, his brother dead, his pride lost. He was ready to let go of everything. He closed his eyes and said goodbye to the world.

As Ares' last glimmer of light faded from his eyes he felt a thud from his clipper's hull running aground. He slowly lifted himself up with what little strength he had left to see where he had landed... It was a small island surrounded in an impenetrable shroud of trees. He gazed into their clutches and felt his adventurous soul pull him towards one final expedition. He stood, legs shaking, and began to approach the treeline. He hopped out of his boat and stumbled towards the treeline, his trusty dagger in hand.

As he walked closer to the treeline he felt his legs regaining strength, his entire body pumping with a renewed strength. Something had changed inside him from the day before. He no longer felt as if all hope was lost, all cares and burdens from the world had been lifted... A strange voice spoje inside his head. It whispered, Come to me. He pushed through the first line of trees with more strength than he'd ever had in his life. And trekked towards the center of the island through the never thinning lines of trees. He pressed on for what seemed like hours, cutting through vines and gliding past trees, when he suddenly felt an intense heat through the next line of trees. He hesitated to take it in then pushed through.

As he pushed through the leaves, he reach a circular clearing, it was the middle of the island. There was a ring of fire surrounding the clearing, right inside the ring, the earth dropped into a giant chasm filled with lava. In the very center of the circular chasm, there was a forge suspended in midair, filled with the embers of a hallowed phoenix. A man in a dark hood stood at the forge hammering away with the precise strokes of a master blacksmith. A single stone pathway led to the floating ground where the forge was. Yes... You have come

Ares passed through the flames unburned and began to walk out on the pathway. Somehow he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. He walked towards the hooded blacksmith without a doubt in his mind that this was his life's purpose.

The blacksmith turned to Ares and said with an insidious voice, "You are not the first to come to the Atronach Forge in search of it."

Ares was taken aback by the voice, He is not of this world... The Atronach forge? Where am I? thought Ares. "I did not come here in search of anything, I didn't mean to come here at all." The first questioning thought that Ares had since he set foot on the island.

"You search for the ring of power, but I tell you, no man that searches for it will find it. For no man can take it from me." He turned back to the forge and pulled a glowing ring out of the embers of the phoenix. Here I am...

Ares approached the blacksmith, no fear came into his heart even when the blacksmith was suddenly two feet from Ares face, looking down on him. The blacksmith was at least ten feet tall and wore a black executioner's hood, the eyes cut out. His gray eyes stared through the holes into Ares' red ones.

"Although you say you're not in search for it, you continue towards it. If you are here for it, I am always ready for a slaughtering of you petty humans."

Ares stared back into the Blacksmith's eyes and the strange voice whispered, I can't be touched. "You take the first swing" said Ares.

The Blacksmith let out a low roar and swung his giant-sized hammer down on Ares' head. Ares stood unphased and the hammer passed straight through his body. Cracking the stone pathway below. The Blacksmith looked up with a smokey glow in his eyes, "You are the one... After centuries of waiting at the Atronach forge, the ring has finally found the one IT was searching for, you truly weren't searching for it... Come with me, chosen one."

The Blacksmith lifted his hammer and walked back towards the forge. "This ring has been crafted in the embers of the mother phoenix, the very first phoenix that ever lived. From the beginning of time, the ring has chosen one bloodline to live through, and that was fated to be yours. It will guide you in battle and give you the strength of the atronach's. It is an honor that none have had before." Ares could sense a hint of excitement in the Blacksmith's voice.

The Blacksmith lifted the ring from the forge and placed it in Ares hands, the heat dissipating from the ring instantly. Ares put the ring on his finger and heard the Blacksmith's voice, "Good luck." Everything went black and Ares felt his heart stop beating.

He opened his eyes and felt the rock of his clipper under him. He sat up quickly and saw that his boat was tied up at the ravaged port of Oroya. He hopped out of the boat, God, I was so drunk that I didn't even leave the port after the last battle... Guess it was all a crazy dream He started to untie his boat and be off for good when he saw an unfamiliar ring on his finger. The sign of the Phoenix... It was real...