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Prologue: The Hunted In the Golden Age of SpiralHorns, feats of greatness were commonplace. Glory was always within the grasp of the Legion. But those days are over now. The Golden Age has ended, and the SpiralHorns now enter a darker age of onslaught and loss. The Legion are no longer hunters, they are the hunted. These words stabbed at the hearts of the Clan's Council like sharpened daggers. "Who could have written such a dire proclamation?" Texrameas queried, expressing the thoughts of many in the Great Hall. "Surely these are the words of a propagandist… an agent of an enemy seeking to plant the seeds of fear among us." Ferteros offered, "perhaps the work of your brother, AvengerRam?"
"No," AvengerRam replied, "my brother, the AvengerEagle prefers to attack directly. This is not his manner of waging battle." The Council resigned themselves to the fact that this mystery would not be solved within their ranks. And so they went out among the Legion, to determine whether these written words had dampened the spirits of the SpiralHorns.
What they found did not please them.
"Surely, we cannot go into battle with so many soldiers wounded already!" some would exclaim. Others lamented, "too many of our greatest Champions are no longer among us. The new guard is not ready for the challenges that lie ahead."
These words concerned the Council, but far more disturbing was the response to the suggestion that the Clan had been influenced by an enemy: these words did not come from outside the Clan. Rather, the proclamation came from within the Legion itself… a contingent of doomsayers calling themselves the Brotherhood of Separatists. Could mutiny and treason be in the air even now, in the waning moments of the Summer and before the battles begin again?
"No!!!!" a familiar voice cried out. "Hear me now my fellow SpiralHorns! Many tasks lie before us, and we must meet them together. We cannot grieve for that which has been lost! Our enemies will not allow this. They may think us to be the hunted, but we are the Legion Eternal! From this day forward I ask you to put aside the fears of the Separatists, and join the battle once more. If we are together, they cannot destroy us… death itself cannot stop us!" And so the Legion prepared for battle, heeding the words of JRamnon who… forever from that day, would be known as the RamWraith.
The Separatists, however, were undaunted.
Chapter 1: The Two Fields of Battle Within the walls of the Homeland Fortress, the debates raged on. From the shadows emerged Ramtimeus, and the leader of Sepratists was no longer a mystery. Eloquently he spoke of the dangers of an unbroken path and blind faith. “Do not question my loyalty to the Legion!” Ramtimeus exclaimed “for my purpose is not to prophesize doom but merely to caution. The Great General has erred in the past, and our warriors are not infallible. We must prepare for a Dark Age that could soon be upon us.”
The RamWraith would not hear of this. “We must not subscribe to such philosophies. There is still greatness within this Legion, and it will be the future deeds of the SpiralHorns, not its past, that will determine our fate.”
“You speak the truth, my friend” replied the Separatist leader, “but I fear you are fostering false hope. This, I cannot allow.”
The debate was interrupted by a message from the outer ramparts. The Desert Warriors were marching upon the Homeland, hoping to lay siege upon a Legion that was thought to be decimated by past battles. It was at this time that the SpiralHorn Chieftain, recently silent, finally spoke:
“Enough!” Dez Urbanos cried, “now is not the time for philosophy. We must prepare for battle, as the enemy will soon be upon us!”
And so the SpiralHorns prepared for the onslaught, and as the enemy approached, a feeling of joy rushed over the Legion. The day had finally arrived when the Legion could quench its desire to exorcise the demons of past defeats.
“Let them come!” shouted the warriors of the Legion. For outside the walls of the fortress the battle would be joined, and debates would be put aside. The time of the calm had ended. War had returned.
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