The Prologue.
It was late afternoon, one day on the summit of Mount Mjolnir. All was quiet. The only sound audible was the wind rustling through the tall grasses, and the horns and mantises making their chirping, buzzing noises. The sun was nearing the horizon of this serene setting when a blue portal materialized out of the ground, and a young priest stepped out of the swirling blue energy.

The man was a traveling priest, given permission to roam the entire world by King Tristam III, Ruler of Rune Midgarts. The priest wore his vestments in a slightly disheveled manor, with his collar up instead of pressed flat out. He wore a magician's hat, partly because it was magically enchanted, partly because he thought it made him look rather fetching, and it pulled his outfit together. His pant legs were slightly too long. He had light brown hair, not quite long, not quite short, and parted in an oddly peculiar way. The priest seemed to shamble along, wistfully, and void of any goal or reason.

He made his way to the top of Mount Mjolnir and sat down, not in a normal way though, unlike a priest, he sat in a sort of lackadaisical, laid back, posture. The priest doffed his magician's hat, and laid it on the ground next to him, then stared off into the distance as the sun faded ever further down towards the ground. The skies opened up oddly, and rain began to poor down, that day on Mount Mjolnir. The priest wasn’t dismayed at the sudden onset of the rains, he was caught in a daze, at the splendor of what he was beholding, a sun shower at dusk. The drops of rain caught the atmosphere within them, and looked to be tinged red. On the ground, the puddles of rain reflected the crimson-orange skies. The priest slicked his wet hair straight back, and thought to himself, "Well Othnieus, isn’t this just perfect? Isn’t it just perfect, Mr. Martel? A fine sight like this.... and you’re all alone, by yourself watching such an amazing thing..."

Othnieus sighed and stared straight up into the heavens, letting the rain roll off his face. He thought to himself about how he could just wander the world, devoid of meaning, while such utter chaos went on. Ever since the pope of Arunfeltz was assassinated and their temple desecrated and ransacked, and Arunfeltz went to War with the Rune Midgarts-Shwartzvald republic alliance, thoughts like these came to Othnieus more, and more often.

Othnieus decided it was time to leave his favorite spot of solitude atop Mount Mjolnir and head to Al DeBaran, The only other city besides Yuno, capitol of the Shwartzvald Republic left standing, since the El Mes Plato became embroiled in conflict. He believed that he had spent enough time thinking, and any more time spent thinking about what he had no control over would just dampen his mood, and at that particular time, he didn’t feel much like being sad.

By the time the priest arrived in Al DeBaran, it had stopped raining again, he was slightly dismayed by this, because he thought it was a rather odd spectacle, and thought Nature was finally going to be original again. The first early stars were now coming out, and it had begun to get dark. Othnieus said aloud to himself, "Hmm. I believe I should be turning in now, you know what they say, Othnieus, early to bed, early to rise!" And with that, Othnieus hurriedly stepped- well, still shambled to a nice looking quaint little inn, and turned in for the night. "Well Othnieus, tomorrow will be a better day... And maybe after a few weeks here in Al DeBaran, I can find my next town of interest!" And with that, Othnieus closed the door to his room, changed into his sleeping-wear, turned off the light, and went to bed.