Nocturne Summit Tis a far cry from home for a poor lonely thing

Kojall was a mighty warrior. Mountains stood along his back, and he carried them with pride, confidence, superiority. You see, Kojall knew that he was the strongest of them, the most disciplined.

For Enokhe, though she had a sharp tongue, was not made for the weight of the mountain ranges.

Aellar was too unpredictable, too spirited, too fleeting. She belonged to the skies and to the heavens beyond it.

Ipnos, his brother, was noble and just. Kojall did not see eye to eye with his brother. He had never known courage to go to so much waste before, the Taggerung paused here. His eyes danced like magic. He was filled with joy, energy, and his own story had swept him away.

The Taggerung hoped too that his audience was pleased, for the tale of Kojall was a wonderous one to behold. The bard could not help but to think that this fierce figure before him was a descendant of the mountain’s great line.

Kojall called upon his siblings one night, bidding them to his meeting place. They each came, confused and intrigued by the summons of their brutish brother.

Enokhe washed to the shores and lingered at its edge. Kojall was wise to have chosen the meeting grounds he had. Her eyes were sharp and did betrayed her suspicion. She did not say a word to her brother, but waited.

Aellar fluttered down from the clouded skies, landing with a joyous bark and a burst of wind. She was pleased to see her kin and did not think to question the motive behind such a calling.

Ipnos was the last to arrive. The great wolf prowled from the depths of the trees and emerged near the edge of the ocean water. His brown eyes sought Kojall’s, distrust burning inside of him.

The Taggerung held his breath for a moment, seeking to gauge his audience’s reaction. The bard was alight with the storyteller’s magic. He all but glimmered in gold. It could not be said just how thrilled the Taggerung was by the prospect of so many strangers who could be turned captivated listeners.