(This was scheduled for a rewrite that would cause it to fit better with the current HC. There are some consistency errors in fact and character, and these needed be fixed along with the writing quality. This rewrite is now complete—read it instead of this!!)
Ream- slow, dreamy, sea-side, little Ream. Ream, the small coastal village on the westernmost shores of Verga. Ream’s population, even at the peak of its growth, never grew beyond a couple hundred, and was a tightly-knit and close community of caring, kind people. In that extreme of the world, the curse of the conflicts of other countries seemed so far away, the frightening prophecies were forgotten, many barriers that are a part of hostility never formed. Ream was a utopia, an independent world in its own, untouched by the Vergan tax-collectors, untouched by the raids of bandits and marauders, untouched by the evil fires of the Inferno.
Everyone there knew everyone, everyone cared for everyone’s old relatives, everyone mentored everyone’s young ones. The people of Ream were such a wonderful lot, their history lacking crime of any kind. Ream had no hall of lore, and this was all very well- why remind a happy people of how unhappy their world truly is? After generations of isolation, happiness, and ignorance, the people eventually forgot the meaning of shadow, evil, chaos. They didn’t know they lacked a hall, they merely didn’t know what a hall was. They didn’t wonder about the lands past the coastal hills. They supported themselves on the ocean and the land. But, in such a torn world, how could a tiny care-free hamlet stay so happy?
It was not destined to be so. Whether Ream’s inhabitants knew of fate or not, its power held their lives on line as well, and though Ream wouldn’t be touched by Inferno or Marauder, its own center of happiness could be thrown off balance. Now, fate isn’t a malicious thing, but it had chosen Ream’s destiny and that destiny had to be followed. And so a young boy was born. His name was Fred Duncan, and he was the first child in Ream to ever have bad dreams. He would wake at night, screaming Maha’s Truename, muttering about demons, crying for his mother. Ream’s peace was ended…
Or was it? Things went alright, or at least, until Duncan was seventeen…
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