Divine Age
A prologue to a story i'm starting to write and post online.
Northkin: A race of arctic fox like creatures native to the mountains of the continent of Jasiiradda.
The tome sat upon the shelf, situated between a copy Ragged Worlds and The Complete Compendium of Creatures of the Southern Continent. It must have been misplaced, for it bore no title along its edge and its binding had fell into a heavy state of disrepair. It was very unusual for the College to let any book go without the tender treatment of their scribes.
Hotaru stepped forward and traced the spine of the book gently. It felt as if it had been bound in silk, his digit smoothly tracing over the fabric.. He reverently slipped it off the shelf. It weighed heavily in his paws, its pages were disgruntled and tan with age. The blue cover bore upon it a intimidating countenance, Hotaru squinted to make out its wore lines. It was some sort of reptile, but its face was too jagged to be either a snake or lizard. Large spines seemed to protrude and plates covered its features. Or perhaps it was just bad workmanship, Hotaru couldn't be sure, it was too worn to make such determinations. He quickly took a scan through the pages, it was written in common in a scrawling hand. The Northkin tucked the book under his arm scanned quickly for any sign of a librarian. He had a suspicion that they would not be happy with him taking such a book. Seeing none, he darted out of the College's main library.
Light streamed through the high windows of Hotaru's small, yet not cramped quarters. He lay lethargically on his soft bed, wearing nothing but his undergarments. Tucking his bushy white tail comfortable between his legs, he leaned back onto his pillows, sighing as he sunk into the feather stuffed bed. He rolled on to his side and took up the tome that lay beside his bed. Taking a moment to admire the caricature etched upon the cover, he rolled onto his back and opened the front cover...
No being can say how long ago the gods gave us the supreme gift of existence. It has be lost in mists, and cutting winds of time. Just as the origins of ourselves fade, so do the stories that accompany them. Many years ago, I found a scripture that had been lost for countless ages under the twisting sands of the Great Desert, sealed in a box. It was in great disrepair, many pages were missing or destroyed. At first I thought nothing of it, another old tome lost of some long dead Almik and his great and usually factitious deeds, but I took a look at some of its pages. It was a history, a masterfully written story where I could read it. The tale of the fall of the dragons was contained within its time worn pages. An age that we have little to known knowledge of, before the time of the rise of the first humanoid empires. The story that I will entail is that of the manuscript, were I could decipher it and were not, my own words. I hope that imparts to you some of the knowledge of the ancients and even if it does not so, it is an intriguing story.
~Ranger Maria Rynt