Tales of Tomorrow

'There it is! Don't you dare move now, you stupid bird!' A young boy thought to himself, filled with a mix of excitement, glee at his success and worry at the difficult task at hand. Bending his knees the lad took a knee in the cold snow that crunched softly underneath him while he brought his bow to his front after which he uncovered his quiver that was draped in some fur in order to keep the arrows from harm through the softly falling snow and the moisture of the fresh morning air.

Pulling one arrow carefully out of the quiver at his hip the boy laid it softly on its left side after which he pulled it backwards to hook it into its bowstring. Afterwards with another exhale the boy released all the pent up tension that had built up inside of him while he was preparing to take the shot at the bird in front of him that he had decided would be his prey.

Carefully he moved the bow upwards and stuck the arrowhead through the foliage that was covering his position and concealing him well enough from his prey and while doing so tried to calm his racing heart just like he had learned from one of his teachers that was no doubt watching him from somewhere, that old fox!

While he was breathing his breath formed milky white clouds before his face until they drifted towards the slowly greying sky which was preparing for the sun's ascent. Inhaling, exhaling. Inhaling and as soon as he did he knew it was the right time. With the next exhale the lad, covered in wool, leather and thick fur to shield him from the freezing cold of the Shiverpeak mountains, pulled back the string of the wooden bow in his hands and while never letting his eyes wander from his prey took aim and released the arrow. Not a second later and he heard a sound from his prey's position. Though not the one he was hoping to hear. With a gawking sound of horror the bird swiftly flapped its wings and took off into the sky.

"Damn it!" The lad cursed while letting himself fall onto his butt in frustration and disappointment at his failure.

"Hahahaha! Good show, good show, but you still suck at shooting with a bow, hahaha!" A deep voice said in between bouts of amused laughter as the man belonging to it stepped out of the foliage and walked over towards the arrow that had, instead of the bird, hit the stone beneath its feet and with it eliminated any chance the boy had with shooting his prey.

"Stop laughing you jerk! You'll see. One day I'll leave you in the dust and take your spot as the best hunter in the great hall!" The boy said, nearly shouted, towards the man in clear frustration after which he stood up with a huff, walked over to the man, who had by now raised an eyebrow in clear amusement at the shrimp with delusions of grandeur before him, and grabbed the arrow angrily out of the hunter's hand.

"Can we go back now? I'm cold and hungry…" the lad asked while the cold seemed to drain away any anger or frustration that had seemingly still been there a few seconds ago.

"And pray tell what shall we eat? If I remember correctly you missed your prey by around 50 miles if my eyes weren't betraying me." The hunter asked the bundle of fur that was standing shivering before him which glared at him something fierce at his nerve to remind said bundle of his missed shot. The hunter though kept a straight face even if his eyes danced in amusement at the boy before him that was mumbling something into his furs which was barely audible.

"Speak up boy! I'm not able to read lips!" The hunter remarked to which the boys voice only barely went up.

"I thought that, you know, I could maybe erm eat with you?" The boy asked after which he tightened the furs around himself even more until only a ball of furs remained, clearly embarrassed at his words.

"Hahahahaha! You are one hell of a cheeky brat, you know that? Luckily for you I'm not heartless, hehehe" The hunter replied after which he began tracking back towards the great hall of Hoelbrak where the both of them lived alongside most of the other Norn.

The pairs path lead through deep wades of snow, here and there footprints of a wild animal pressed into the snow possibly on its quest to hunt or find a place to sleep at, seemingly disappearing in the endless white of the Shiverpeak mountains, the tallest and coldest place in Tyria.

After tracking through the deep snow surrounded by trees, both standing or fallen over from either strong currents of wind of smitten to bits by a stray bolt of lightning, the two soon reached a clearing that presented a vast view of the lands below them, Hoelbrak the capital of the Norn embedded in a ring of mountains.

Small plumes of smoke drifted upwards from the huge gathering place originating from the grand bonfires lit in its midst over which the results of the various hunts were being grilled until they took on a sheen of gold brown while oil began to slowly drip into the fire below it, bathing the surroundings in an aroma only grilled meat could produce.

Standing there on the clearing at the brink of the absolute wilderness both boy and man took in the glorious sight before them, all the while being with their minds in Hoelbrak already where they would be sitting near one of the bonfires and listen to stories of the old women that told of lives long past while sinking their teeth in the glorious results of the gathered bounties.

"Let's move quickly. My stomach yearns for some mead and meat. I feel like every ounce of warmth has been sucked out of my very bones by this biting cold. I swear Jormag has cursed our trip in some way!" The hunter uncle said after which he spit into the snow pile to his side while the boy next to him only nodded his agreement as everything bad in this world that had happened to the Norn had to do with Jormag, one of the ancient dragons.

The ancient dragons had awoken 250 years ago. Jormag was one of them, reigning supreme over ice, snow and the cold of the north. Alongside Jormag its five brethren had each taken a domain for their own, with nobody so far being able to withstand their might. Each on its own brought a different scourge to Tyria and from then on made it their sole purpose to purge Tyria from all humanoid races.

To survive all the humanoid races had to adapt and so they did, each race finding their own means and ways to do so. While the Norn had been forced to abandon their original home, the once dispersed people of the Norn had come together as all shared the same fate under the yoke of Jormag and thus built themselves a new home further south, namely Hoelbrak, their capital.

Venturing further south the duo passed by lakes that were partly frozen over until the first batches of green grass sprang through the snow, giving the landscape an appearance of mixed white and green colours as spring had decided to finally show itself, even though it never did get warm in Hoelbrak and the snow remained pretty much all year long. Though in the winter the snow got deeper and deeper while Jormags powers seemingly grew and with it its reach. After 250 years it had gotten to the point that even as far down in the south as the Norn had ventured for safety and seclusion their safe haven became less and less safe as not only the weather grew fiercer but also the numbers of Jormags army, namely the sons of Jormag, consisting of male Norn that had taken up Jormags banner and joined him under his command.

Soon the duo had reached a huge gate made of carved and sculpted trees that were transformed and bent into the ideal entrance for a gathering place such as Hoelbrak, depicting the patron saints of the Norn, the great bear, the wolf, the snow leopard and the raven that had assisted the Norn since time immemorial and were revered by all Norn in one way or another.

"Come on now, Alvar. I don't want to freeze my feet off only because you couldn't stop gawking at our folks art, as glorious as it may be." The hunter grunted out, likely because his patience had reached its limit as the temptation of some warm food and drink was precariously close and yet so far away.

Alvar had always been awed at the sight that met his eyes once he made his first steps into the grand city of Hoelbrak. Its huge wooden halls, frescoes carved into ice, stone and wood all together enchanted to hold for eternity depicting battle scenes against Jormags armies, scenes out of legends of the past from long ago or other things like the sacred spirits of bear, wolf, raven and snow leopard.

Trotting behind his uncle Olaf, Alvar couldn't help himself but be mesmerized by the glory of the Norn culture that carried a scent of wildness and nature along with it. Alvar had sometimes come briefly into contact with a merchant caravan of the Humans and every time he did he found them oddly lacking in some way. Though why that was he never could tell. Maybe it was because of their size as the Norn were rather big in comparison to the humans, even though the Norn could be considered human themselves. They often times liked to think of themselves as a different species though since the stories of old told of a different origin when it came to the Humans and Norn.

When it came to height only the Charr could hold a candle to the Norn, at least that is what Alvar had heard from the hunters and warriors he had listened to when they talked about their ventures south of the Shiverpeak mountains. From their tales the Charr seemed to be some kind of feline beast, known for their ferociousness in battle and huge armies that served under their high command.

The complete opposite to the Norn were the Asura. A tiny race in comparison, born with various grey skin colours and large floppy ears, short legs and arms. A race not build for physical combat but what they lacked in the physical aspects they outperformed in the intellectual faculties as the Azura were by far the most intelligent species on Tyria, being able to build portals, floating cities and all kinds of technological wonders.

Last but not least there were the Sylvari. A young race in comparison to the Humans, Norn, Azura and Charr as the Sylvari had only come into being 250 years ago, approximately around the same time as the ancient dragons showed their faces to Tyria, which often had lead Alvar to formulate various ideas on the Sylvari's origins but he was no scholar and probably never would be and so only sometimes thought about such matters when his thoughts started to drift into the pleasant nothingness when he had nothing better to do.

So deep was Alvar in his thoughts that he didn't realise the two had arrived at a relatively small longhouse at one side of Hoelbrak, designated for various families of simple backgrounds, belonging to his grandparents.

With a small smile Alvar followed his uncle inside and was greeted by a warm and pleasant aroma that seemed to seep deeply into his bones which elicited a small groan from both him and his uncle who had seemingly experienced the same thing as Alvar. Grinning upwards to his uncle Alvar went forwards to engulf his grandparents in a fierce hug as he had missed them. He was finally home again.