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It was a cool crisp spring evening in the valley, the smell of sweet spring flowers wafting in on a breeze, masked beneath the distinctive musk of a large group of unwashed individuals. The sun was low on the horizon, slowly dissapearing behind the treeline, and occasionally obscured by the plumes of smoke rising wantonly from the cooking fires. The sizzle of cooked meats hissed among the chatter of merry conversation, occasionally a loud bellow of a laugh rising above the general chatter. Women zipped this way and that with platters of food and piles of laundry, pinging in and out of tents on their daily chores, nimbly dodging the naked or barely-dressed children who ran and played through the main walkways.

Everywhere, there were tents. Big ones, small ones, all sorts of furs and cloths and mismatched materials, every clan represented. Their placement seemed haphazard, sprawling across the valley with no obvious rhyme or reason to the uneducated eye. For it was a time when humans of this continent gathered in peace as brothers and sisters, celebrating their triumphs, their children and their good fortune. Marriages were made, boys and girls became men and women, treaties were hashed out and offerings were made to the gods and magical creatures in thanks and reverence. It was a time of peace and prosperity, a time to band together, for the world was a dangerous place filled with trials and tribulations for the non-magical human race.

[center] Little did they know harsh times lay ahead... [/center]