As they crested the hill, the first thing that anyone noticed were thier pikes. On the top of each was the head of one of the men of our village. Then the Lizard-men themselves came into view, and in that moment, we knew all was lost. Some of the women tried to fight the invaders, and this made them even more blood-thirsty than before. Being the oldest of the children, I felt it was my responsibility to protect the rest. I coerced them all into the nearest hut and told them to be silent, that all would be right shortly. As I peered out a crack in the wall, I could see all the women, even those who had not fought back, being hearded into the center of the vilage. There, they were killed. Shot with bows, or crossbows, or simply cut down. Not a single one was spared. The bodies were then piled high, and and torches lit. Earthen jars were broken one the pile and when the torches touched the liquid that was in them, the flames leaped up and over all the bodies. The Lizard-men then spread out through the village, searching. I knew what they looked for, we had all heard stories the adults told children to make them behave. ("...if you don't do what your supposed to, we'll leave you out for the Lizard-men, they like to eat little children!") I told all the children we were going to play a new game, and that they should all lie face down on the floor. When they had, I fetched a knife from near the hearth, and starting with the youngest, killed them one-by-one. I knew it was a kinder fate then what awaited them if the lizard-men found us. I was almost finished with this gruesome task that I had set myself, when the door burst open, and hands grabbed at me. I thrashed about with my knife and felt it sink into flesh. An in-human howl erupted from the Lizard-man that held me and before any others could stop him he engulfed my head in his mouth and bit it clean off. That night, the Lizard-men returned to their swamp, with several of our villages children to feast on.

The next day dawned as always. This time there was no movement in the Village of Eastridge, none save that of scavengers brought out of the swamp by the smell of blood. They found nothing to eat, for all the bodies, including those of the dead children, had been burned in the village square. A wandering Tribe of the Nomadic peoples had seen the smoke and came to investigate late in the day. As they believed all who had passed deserved rest, they began the task of burying the remains of the dead.

As the Sun touched the horizon that evening, there was a different movement. It startled the Nomad that was holding a vigil over the site of the great pyre, and he called others. They watched, as in the center of this scorched area, where the fire had been so hot that the ground had turned black as far down as they could dig, that this movement began. It was a mere swirling of dust and ash. But the thing that startled all those that watched, was that the dust an ash were swirling when there was not even so much as a light breeze. As the Sun sunk further to the horizon the swirling intensified, and bits from further out came in to swirl in the center. Just as the Sun finally disappeared from view, an enormous clap of Thunder was heard, and a lightning bolt came straight out of the clear sky to the swirling debris. When the Nomads had recoverd from their shock at such a great sound, they saw the ashes had formed into the shape of a man. The man moved.

I opened my eyes, and started brushing the ashes and dirt from my body. Around me the Nomads were muttering in astonishment at what they had just witnessed. I could feel something tugging at my thoughts. It was something in the ground at my feet. Reaching down, I was astonished to find a spot where my hand seemed to pass into the earth without disturbing it. I felt something hard, and took hold of it and pulled. The Sword slid as easily from the earth as from a scabard. I held it up and the Nomads took to their heels in fear. The Sword, glowed with black and purple Flames which slowly died. I felt another tugging then, and again I knew I must follow it. I sprinted out of the Village, never looking back, and never to return.

The Lizard-men that had raided our village lived deep in the swamp near our lands. I had never been more than a few hours walk into the swamp before, but at this time I knew exactly where my feet would fall, and which paths to take. As I approached their nesting area, I came upon a sentry. I left the fishes and other beasts to ponder the surprised look on the dis-embodied head suddenly floating in their waters. As I approached my sword once again began to burn with the dark flames, and as I wished to be unseen, they encased me in darkness. I was able to walk directly into the center of their feast before they even knew I was there.

I was standing in front of the one who had killed me earlier when I willed the flames back into the sword. The expression on his face was one of surprise, then horror as he reckognized me. That same look of horror was on his face as his head flew into the middle of a group of warriors. After that, total chaos reigned. I was lightning fast, and my sword seemed to thirst for the blood of these monsters. None were spared, as they had done in my village. Afterwards, I found the remains of those children they had taken, and gave them proper burial.

As I left the Swamp, I was approached by one of the Nomads. He simply looked at the ichor splattered on my body and face, and nodded. I followed him back to the Nomad camp where I was bathed and what few wounds I had sustained while running the swamp where tended. I was bid sleep but could not. When morning came I made ready to leave the tent I had been so graciously lent for the night, and the Nomads who had cared for me. Yet, when I stepped out of the tent, into the full light of day, I burst into flames and collapsed into a heap of ashes again.

I stood before a man. Yet, He was not a man. I knew He was my ancestor. "Anos, my son," his voice sounded hollow and far off, like that of a powerful man in a cave, "You have done well. You have had your Childhood, and your Adolescence. Now when you return to the land of life, you will be a Man." "Father, what is your name, that I may know who I truly am?" I asked with more confience than I felt.

"I am Belanos. I see from your reaction that your mother did her duty in teaching you of the gods. That is Well. You shall be called B�lanos, son of B�lanox, and Guardian of that which sleeps. For this is the purpose of your existence." And he began to tell me of that which I must do.

Many years later, a single man sits by a fire, deep in thought. He thinks back to the day, he saw a Great Magic take place, how he called others and they too saw it. How those others have slowly died, and now he is the only one left to remember. He sits near the place the Man of ash burned to the nothingness from which he apparently came. So many years have passed, yet each year, on the same day, the man is here. He waits.

Once again I was re-born to the mortal realm as a grown man. This time from a fire. As I stepped away from it and my eyes fell on a solitary figure, laying with his back to the fire for warmth as he slept. I walk around to the far side of the man so that he is between me and the fire and I wait. Eventually he woke with a start, and saw me. By this time I had recognized him as the Nomad that met me outside the Swamp so many ages ago. He is old now, and moves with difficulty as he stands. I stand as well, drawing the Sword as I do. He looks at the flames licking along it's surface, this time a deep green, and nods understanding. He faces me with his head held high, and says, "Guardian, it is for this Purpose I have kept my vigil these many years. Make your strike true."

My strike is true as can be. In a moment there is nothing left of the man except his robes. His knowledge also remains, as a part of me now. His name was Arlon. He was a great warrior, he was called a Berserker. I am now B�lanos, Barbarian, grandson of Belanos, Guardian of that which sleeps.