THE TIES THAT BIND ||| THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA

Prologue

The Kingdom of Oldegård, A small frigid island nation, inhabited by four warring clans. Renowned for its peoples iron wills and unwillingness to bend the knee, even when faced with the most overwhelming of odds.

It's isolated nature forced her inhabitants to master the waves allowing them to navigate toward the previously unexplored mainland Northeast of their home. However, when they landed on the sandy shores of Tal'Dorei, assuming the land not to be uninhabited. Instead they discovered an already prosperous nation, containing human and non-human alike. All living side by side in what seemed like a comfortable peace.

The Tal'Dorei heads of state, the Council led by their disgraceful leader the Sovereign, startled at the Oldegårdians sudden arrival, unleashed the barbaric Mercenary band known as The Knights of the Midnight Sun to run down the perceived invaders and drive them back into the ocean.

In the ensuing carnage, both sides barely managed to slink away, taking horrendous losses on both sides. Yet all was too clear to the Oldegårdians that they were not welcome nor considered an equal to their more 'civilised' neighbour.

Thus, a single moment of mistrust between the two peoples devolved into a feud that spanned generations. Luckily, with an ocean separating the Kingdoms both sides were reduced to raiding and small scale engagements, pecking away at each other's morale, hoping that one would collapse before the other did.

But nothing ever came of the menial bloodshed. All it served to do was fuel the hatred amongst those who could have lived peacefully side by side yet were guided instead by their fear of the unknown.

That was until Utrhed, War chief of clan Hellström united the four clans in the hope that it may revitalise his dying homeland. Little did he know however, this act would reawaken his peoples sworn enemies and bring them to the shores of Oldegård in a bloody bout that would spell the end for his clan and the thievery of an artefact his clan were entrusted to protect.

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The cold evening breeze drifted gently through the towering, leafless branches of the tall oaken trees stretching their way across the grass covered flatlands and rose up the steep, snow covered slopes of the mountainous peaks far in the distance. Nestled at it's foot sat a large yet modest village bustling with life as its inhabitants went about their daily lives.

To most, it would appear as if the village was primitive, only inhabited by a gaggle of women and young children dressed in woven clothes crafted from the furs and leathers from trapped and hunted animals. The women's dresses had all been embroiled with their own tasteful patterns and decorations while the children wore a myriad heavy tunics and trousers to protect them from the harsh colds of their homeland.

Most of the able bodied men, not defending the village were off searching further and further from their territory for food with every passing day. Desperately trying to stock their stores houses to the brim for the coming winter, which they all knew would be more brutal than the last. Even now, at the precipice of Fall the snow from the winter last had yet to melt.

Cutting right through the village was a dirt path laid with wooden planks leading up the beginnings of the slope towards a much grander lodge compared to the much more modest abodes below. The lodge itself stood tall, leering over its underlings,, yet was similar in construction and architecture with its hard wooden walls reinforced by a sturdy stone block foundation, along with the curved, patched hide and straw roofing protecting its owners from the harsh elements.