Stormpoint Castle--a great stone edifice that loomed above the city, its spires piercing the very clouds that gave the city its name. Standing as the heart of Stormpoint, the castle served not only a military stronghold, but also a bastion of the city's history and culture.

Upon inquiry, you were surprised, yet pleased to discover that visitors were welcome. Seeing your puzzled expression, the guards explained that the Regent wasn't in residence. Still, you noted, you were carefully watched as you passed through the iron gates and wandered about the ancient halls; and though the thick scarlet carpet that spread throughout the corridors muffled the sounds of your footfalls, you could easily hear the steady chink of the guard's sword hitting against his mail as he followed you on your tour. Danger had come to Stormpoint many times, and in many forms. Its citizens might appear friendly, but they kept a wary and watchful eye on strangers.

Coming the end of a long hall, you found three throne rooms branching off your current path. Newly perplexed, you turned to your guide, a young palidin named Kelton Wolfbane, who explained that the city used to be a protectorate of the three surrounding kingdoms. Now, however, only one regent ruled within the city, and even he rarely stepped foot within the castle. Armed with this knowledge, you could hear rumors of independence whisper through the halls of the monarchial structure, but none fell from the lips of your guide despite your best coaxing. Resigned that the rumors would have to remain just that for now, you continued the rest of your visit in silence, pondering the possibilities existent in the current political landscape even as you marveled at the ancient testimonies of monarchy displayed through centuries of art and architecture.

© Keith Parkinson, "The Gift"

Hailing from northwest land of Ogrekvania, Kelton joined his order at a young age, hoping to stem the tide of darkness he felt descending upon his homeland. Despite his youth, he served and distinguished himself in many campaigns, finding satisfaction, if not answers to life's unspoken questions, in the defeat of his foes. When his homeland was returned to safety and large portions of the militia disbanded, fate dealt him a new opportunity. The monarch of Ogrekvania was seeking soldiers to serve in the newly-constructed guard of a small port city, rich in trade and steeped in shadow. He felt called, and had answered quickly, leaving friends, family, and his order behind as he donned a new uniform, took a new post, and stepped into new challenges. He'd thought that his assignment in Stormpoint would be like any other -- that battle lines would be clearly drawn with friend marked clearly from foe. He hadn't expected kindred to roam the streets unmolested by the law. He hadn't expected fey forests to stand unchallenged. He hadn't expected the curious mingling of light and dark that encompassed the city, and he wasn't sure that he liked it.

Elusive. Enigma. Two simple words and yet one must pause and ponder the complexities they can represent.

Where the lady came from remains unknown, her very existence is shrouded in mystery, and it is highly doubtful this woman will ever gve out such knowledge of her own free will.

It is, at best, difficult to pinpoint her race, despite the obvious physical human traits. It is impossible to determine the origin of her accent, for it is almost non-existent. One could swear Aeron sounds the same as any other native of any other land. And yet, there is that disturbing sensation, that feeling of being in the presence of something so ancient, it is as if history took on a physical form and a persona.

© M.C.K. @ Dreamweaver Visions Design "Immortal Beloved"

True enough, like many women, she is not unpleasant to look upon. But even in her appearance, there is something old, some remnant of civilizations past, a haunting vision that lingers at the back of one’s mind. Hers is a beauty from another time, when the world was far younger and the elder races moved about freely, mingled with the race of men. And there is fire in her eyes, a quiet fury, the calm that exists before the raging storm. Many a foe has fallen back before the intensity of that gaze, and the swift, precise accuracy of her blade. Only she knows why she is here, and she exists as a shadow on the edges of dreams and reality. A ghost that walks the lands bound to an immortal coil and bereft of purpose and peace. Perhaps that is all she seeks, a reason and peace. Time may yet reveal her secrets.