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The epic of Saylos Part 1

Saylos: The Jewel of the Demacian country side

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Like many villages of the Demacian empire, Saylos was peaceful. The Eldranaiche (a bird much like a heron with flecks of black and glossy vibrant feathers lining the edge of the wings) took to the air with wings of graceful zeal. The farmers sowed and harvested their crop with weary content, the children played at the stream of water so crystal clear that it was almost like wading through liquid diamonds. The hills rolled and swelled like a green sea of merry and the forest... oh the forest, it was like walking though the fae grove it was. Bio-luminescent plants and animals would glow with joy and rhythm as the forest to serinaded you with with orchetral sounds of toads and insects playing their songs in tune. Finally the town, the people were kind and hearty and though the buildings were clearly aged, the stone work slowly crumbling, it seemes to greet you with a kind of weary creak as you passed by. But as with all good things...they must end. For you see again like many of the villages of the demacian empire Saylos was a village that bordered the treatcherous edge of Noxus and as such was one of the first to fall and the one that suffered most.


Invasion

The once rich forests turned sour and burned in
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agony. It's inhabitants mercilessly hunted and devoured, The town withered as the people were forced out of their homes to accomodate it's new Noxian inhabitants. Forced to labour and farm under the thumb of noxian troops, the people starved, many died and as such so did the land. Soil that had once been fertile and fruitful turned baron and twisted and it became saturated with the blood of it's farmers. Once all life had been drained from the soil and environment all but one thing ramained. Try as the people did to remain good kind people, their kindness drained and withered, the people growing bitter with each passing day as they were mocked by their new leaders and worked to exhaustion. The air was full of loathing and as such the the air became thick and suffocating killing what was left of the crops in which the hateful farmers had sown. Without compassion the crops failed and blight struck the fields.


Arrival

One particular night however that occured something queer. A pair of hooded strangers from the east had arrived... weak and weary they begged for shelter and food only to be met with bitterness and rejection. Finally after being turned away by so many farmer and noxian a like a young man greeted them, mustering the last rasps of his kindness, he offered them shelter with him in a small tent in which he now lived on the bank side of the now bloody, thick and muddy water, now thick with the blood and decomposing corpses of his fellow villages.

With a sigh he turned and wearily spoke "I hope you two don't mind the smell and sight out side, this was the only place I could pitch without being mocked by those unruley Noxians".

The smaller of the duo replied "We don't mind, we've worked beside death for many years the smell doesn't bother us" the larger of the two let out a small gravely chuckle, what was funny to him was unbeknownst to the farmer and neither did he care. With a sigh he grabbed the last of his food and drink as the smaller thanked him saying "We thank you a great deal for your kindness and generosity. It is uncommon for us to find one who willingly invites people like us into their accomodations".

In reflective reminiscence the young man replied "The people here weren't always so bitter you know". Holding a few old cups and forest herbs the man brewed what he could trying to make a soup of kinds. "There were better times, Saylos used to be beautiful, the stream was clear like dimonds". Deciding to end his reflection he focused on the task at hand and askes "So, my name's Mestalphos, what did you say your names were again"
Index

With a polite and curt response the small figure responded "Kindred".

Three cups crashed onto the floor spilling hot soup every where. Mestalphos stood motionless... unaffected by the searing hot liquid he had just spilled on himself, the chill down his spine kept him cold enough. Taking a deep breath and comming to terms with what he had just heard he asked "Would you still like your cup of soup before you kill me?"

(Writers note: Just because I put the words part 1 doesn't mean I'm making a part 2.... I'm just very inconsistent with writing fan stories and i rarely login on to wiki... especially after I got restrictions on my computer preventing me from playing league.)

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