There I sat in this dilapidated run down shack. It's in the middle of the night and I had to light a fire in the hearth so that I could see better. Now I'm sitting on a wobbly stool. In front of me is a low laying bed with a small figure in it. It was covered all the way to its chin. I watched as my shadow danced on the wall and splayed across the bed and the lonely figure. I can't believe that I came all this way in the pursuit of knowledge. I sat there waiting and finally the person in front of me sat up and was instantly cloaked in the darkness that was my shadow. It was kind of discomforting when his small voice spoke. "Now come closer sonny you need to hear this. I, Brentwin Forrester, the last of the great story tellers, am about to tell you a tale. It is about an extraordinary man with an extraordinary life. I shall begin with his rise to power. If I do not last through the night, the journals on the dresser shall tell you the rest of his story." I leaned closer and watched as Brentwin began his tale of a man that was both myth and legend.