This is a work of Fantasy, as such it is also uncomplete. All rights reserved to the author, and the authour may change this work to suite their intrests.

Note: Do not take this synopsis seriously, this work is unfinished and a true synopsis will be written if and when the authour deems that this work is complete.

"Look around now child, see those statues over younder," I said to my son pointing at those frightened forms. "Aye papa," my son said with wonder in his eyes, "Papa? Why do they look so scared? Was the sculpter trying to show fear in the stone?" I poundered for a moment, the true nature is that, for him to know that at one point these were breathing people. It maybe too frighting to such a young naive boy, "the sculper may have been trying to invoke fear, of what I do not know. But... now we must move, night is aproaching and I do not to be caught off gaurd by men or fowl beasts." He noded his head, my son still contemplating the meaning by, who he assumded was an artist, followed closely behind me. It is best he not now, that the gods have abanded us mere men, and those of heros and casters are long dead or turned to those statues seen before us. My brother, his uncle, frought by grief of his wife and stricken with yellowing maddness, let his blade convince him. We right now face the parless need for day to day survival, I am uncertain if we will ever see a monistary, muchless a town, through these back mountain roads. I am no user of enchantments, my club is the only line of defense between what manner of monster lurks through these paths, I pray that Truwellin that she may see us through the night.

"Whooowooo!"

"Quickly son! We must move!" I said with fear in my voice.