The winter storms had been plentiful along the coastal lands of the old empire.
High water swallowed large pieces of land; some land high enough not to be effected by the water became solitaire islands.
Hail driven by fierce winds pelted down on man and beast.
The rivers taking everything with them in their raging currents.
A scream of horror, downstream got lost in howling of the wind as a ferry broke loose as rope gave away and timber gave away to the fury of the water.
With nothing but water around him stood the only heir of a once powerful family.
A boy of only 14 years facing enemies, both human and arcane.
Forces that he not could overcome, unless he made it to the other side of this wild running river. Far to the west stood the remains of his father's army, with them he hoped to make a last stand. But even that was not too happen, as he watched, his only hope to make it across being destroyed by the boiling waters of the river.
Athelbrund cried softly in frustration, as he mounted his restless horse once more.
A gift from his father, the best of a long line horses of endurances.
He had it named Odovacar for its valiant nature.
Odovacar moved restless around, his eyes white in fear, Athelbund had a hard time keeping him steady.
As the horse settled down for a moment, Athelbund rested his head on its neck, feeling
Athelbund almost fallen asleep and as than in a dream before materialized several riders, there faces hidden in the shadows cloaks. In the whirlwind spraying water, they thundered down on Athelbrund. Onwards through the turmoil of the river, onwards
with their blades high above them. Onwards till their blades would sink into the body
Athelbrund lifted weary his father's too heavy sword to meet his foe.