Once there was a mighty forest.  An ancient woodland full of aged trees and all manner of life that teems within such an old wood.  This forest was home to a happy little village, full of happy little villagers.  They lived at one with the forest.  The wood provided all they needed, from game to hunt to wood to burn and build their homes from.  They respected the wood and paid it great homage.

  These people lived at peace for many deochs, until the coming of that mage.  A Srad mage, master of fire chose to make this village miserable.  He bullied and threatened the villagers into granting his every desire, under threat of immolation.  The people had little choice, their lives depended on the flammable wood.

  One day, when the mage came to town from to extort some goods, he found the small flames he juggled as show of force suddenly extinguished, followed by his own drenching.  Looking up, the mage saw a small child with a bucket, still dripping water, in the tree above him.  This humiliation did not sit well with the mage.  The child, being young but not dumb, jumped from the tree and ran from the wizard.

  The mage gave chase, following the child deep into the oldest parts of the forest.  In his haste, the mage was tripping over many roots, giving the child some small advantage.  However, the child eventually tripped in his haste.  The small boy flew threw the air  and landed at the feet of a monk, who was quietly meditating at the base of a tree in the serene forest.  The mage arrived at the heels of the child, fists once more aflame.

  The monk sized up the situation quickly, and rose to challenge the wizard.  The Srad mage let loose his fire magics, not taking kindly to interlopers.  The monk calmly stepped aside of the fires as they shot towards him, and began to advance upon the mage.  The mage tried again and again to hit the monk, but the monk quietly avoided all the attacks, which fizzled when the failed to connect with their target.

  Before long the monk would be upon him, and mages are not equipped to deal with physical combat.  In a panic, the srad mage decided to change tactics.  The whole area was inflammable, being a forest.  The monk could not possibly dodge a conflagration of the entire area.

  The mage snickered, rose his arms and let loose his fires upon the trees that surrounded them.  The mad cackle of  the mage faded quickly.  The trees of the ancient wood stood as tall and proud as ever.  They did not catch fire.  The mage was stupefied bye this.

  The monk finished his calm walk towards the mage and knocked him down with a single blow.  The monk smiled as the mage laid on the forest floor, defeated.  He instructed the mage in a valuable lesson of balance, the way of monks.  As there is wood that burns, this truly ancient wood does not, for it had long since turned to stone.

  The mage fled for parts unknown after his encounter with the monk, who took the small boy back to his village.  The village welcomed the monk as their hero.  The monk lived out his days as protector of the wood and this village, as they were one and the same.