The Windfallen Village

As the robed mage issued his command, the eagle soared aloft into the heavens, where it vanished from sight. The bird knew instinctively that this mage was of a higher existence, one who could manipulate the law of nature itself. Through this interaction, the eagle was endowed with a newfound intelligence, enabling it to comprehend and respond to human speech.

Such a fortuitous occurrence was not mere happenstance, for in times long past it had been foretold that mystical creatures could forge contracts with human mages, imbuing them with specific attributes and blessings such as flight, control over the elements, and much more.

Merely minutes after receiving the command from the robed mage, the eagle had already traversed a staggering 1500 miles, a testament to the unparalleled speed and agility of these magnificent creatures in flight. The eagle soared through the vast expanse of the heavens, its majestic wings propelling it forward with breathtaking velocity.

Despite being 1500 miles away, the explosion caused by the robed man, shook the creature to its very core. The overwhelming force of an energy wave coursed through its being, leaving the proud bird helpless and disoriented in its wake. Despite its valiant efforts to regain control of its body, the eagle found itself at the mercy of some inscrutable force, its once-steady flight now at the mercy of an unseen hand. With mounting trepidation, the eagle struggled to regain its bearings, its very being trembling with a fear that threatened to overwhelm it completely.

The eagle desperately struggled to regain its bearings, and could not help but curse the fickle nature of mystical beings after regaining control. It also vowed never again to heed the call of such entities in the future.

"I will not be used as a pawn in their schemes," the eagle thought with fierce determination.

"My loyalty lies only with those who show true honor and respect towards my kind."

This would mark the final act of goodwill the eagle would perform for mankind. The request had come from a superior being with dominion over the very laws of nature, and the eagle was bound by its sense of honor to see it through.

With the infant safely cradled in its talons, the eagle continued to soared in search of a human settlement where the child might be left unscathed. Hours has passed and the eagle eventually broke free from the vast Misty Forest. Now, it flew at an even higher altitude, poised to venture into the rugged terrain of the Ten Thousand Mountain Ranges.

The temperature had noticeably dropped, leaving the infant's face tinged with a rosy hue. Despite the chill and unfamiliar surroundings, the child remained curious, gazing about with wide-eyed wonder. Yet, after enduring hours of being cradled in the eagle's talons, the infant was beginning to show signs of discomfort, struggling to suppress its cries.

The Ten Thousand Mountain Ranges [1] stretched out before them, the ancient trees towering towards the heavens with leaves ablaze in fiery reds and burnished yellows. These awe-inspiring trees remained untouched by human hands, a testament to the enduring power of nature.

Among the myriad peaks that pierced the clouds, some were so high that they remained shrouded in mist. The sunlight struggled to filter through, casting a frigid chill over the area. And yet, as they soared on, the eagle caught sight of a small village nestled among the peaks, its location a well-kept secret in the northwest reaches of the ranges. From above, one could see the artificial pathways woven by the locals of the area, connecting the peaks to the Misty Forest beyond.

Though the village seemed to provide some semblance of security, it was apparent that the community teetered on the brink of destitution. With fewer than thirty households calling the area home, sustenance and dependency from other towns or villages were scarce.

Farming, pastures and the bounty of the forest provided the main source of food, and the men of the village ventured into the Misty Forest in pursuit of wild game. The wear and tear on the village's structures bore witness to the hardships the people had endured. Establishments, once sturdy and strong, now sagged under the weight of time and weather, their tattered thatch roofs and crumbling walls a testament to the daily struggle to survive.

The village layout resembled a diamond with five sides with the chief's residence perched at the very center. The village stood perpendicular to a towering mountain peak, whose winds are cascaded down bringing a cool, refreshing breeze every now and then.

The locals called it Windfallen, a fitting name for a village blessed by the wind gods themselves.

The marketplace bustled with activity as traders bartered their goods, and the tavern hummed with the chatter of locals and travelers alike. At the village's heart stood a well, its water source vital to the survival of the community.

Southward of the village, the guild branch stood, a hub for adventurers seeking quests to hunt wild game or gather herbs from the perilous peaks beyond.

The houses of the village were fashioned in the style of quaint cottages, built from logs of wood and nailed together with a rustic charm. The roofs were fashioned from a patchwork of logs and leaves, harvested from the towering trees that surrounded the village. A ten-foot wooden wall encircled the community, with a sturdy gate offering entry and exit for all who passed through.

The westward reaches of the village played host to the blacksmith's forge, a fiery workshop where an elderly artisan in his sixties poured heart and soul into his work. Day after grueling day, he pounded away at his anvil, wielding his hammer with a grace honed by decades of practice. His hands moved with the precision of a surgeon, coaxing spears, arrowheads, and blades into being with unwavering dedication and masterful skill.

To the northern edge of the village lay the modest home of Mary and Joseph Anaheim, a young couple who are married for five years. From the fruits of their love sprang two young children - Margaret, aged five, and Devon, just two years old.

Amidst the idyllic village of Windfallen, stood a man named Joseph Anaheim, whose stature measured 5 ft 9 inches, his sturdy built being a testament to his years of toiling on treacherous cliff sides. His once dark hair has partially turned gray, a mark of his long journey in life, while his piercing blue eyes seem to hold the weight of the ocean. His wife, Mary Anaheim, who stands at 5 ft 5 inches, with hair as blue as the sky and eyes as warm as amber, is still widely considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the village, despite having two children.

Joseph, a man of rugged determination, earned his keep as an herb collector for the local guild. Day in and out, he braved the most treacherous terrain - scaling sheer cliffs and delving into bear-infested caves - all in pursuit of the rarest and most valuable herbs. This was the highest paying labor work in the village, and Joseph had to endure to make a living for his family.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, darkness crept in and shrouded the village. It was then that the eagle made its descent, gliding gracefully towards the cluster of cottages below. With the cloak of night concealing its movements, the eagle alighted on the rooftop of Joseph Anaheim's home, its talons gripping tightly to the wooden beams.

Since the construction of the cottage's roof is a little bit shoddy, it was enough to muffle the sound of the eagle's landing. However, Joseph's keen ears picked up the faint rustling noise. At first, he assumed it was a common house pest scurrying about, but as the sound grew louder, he began to suspect otherwise.

Joseph couldn't shake off his worry about snakes slithering into their humble abode through the roof. The village had seen multiple instances of infants falling prey to these venomous reptiles. With his own children still at a tender age, Joseph knew he had to act fast.

He fetched a torch and a ladder, determined to verify if the suspicious noise was indeed a snake. The frigid air bit at his skin, and the gusts of wind only added to his discomfort.

"Curse this weather," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth against the biting cold.

Ascending the ladder, Joseph was met with the concerned gaze of his wife as she emerged from the house.

"Dear," she called out, "what brings you up to the roof at this late hour? Is everything alright?"

Her voice was laced with worry and curiosity, as she peered up at him through the darkness of the night.

Joseph responded, "Don't worry dear, I'll keep safe. I heard a noise and I suspect it might be a serpent. Please bring the children into the storage room."

With due acknowledgement, Mary promptly ushered the children into the storage room. She was well aware of her husband's adeptness in tackling perilous situations owing to the demands of his labor.

With trepidation, Joseph ascended the ladder, clutching his torch in front of him, his every movement calculated so as not to startle the lurking reptile. As he finally arrived at the apex, a sight met his eyes so strangely, so fantastical, that he could not believe his senses.

Overwhelmed, he cried out to his wife, "Dear! Come over here. You need to see this!!"

With great haste, his wife returned with Devon and Margaret in tow. Joseph carefully took the infant swathed in a blue linen cloth and cradled it against his chest, immediately noticing the child's burning fever. The rosy-red chicks of the infant were parched, their lips chapped from the ordeal.

As the baby realized it was in the arms of a human, a piercing cry escaped its lips. The frigid hours of flight with the eagle had taken their toll, causing the infant's fever to take hold.

Mary arrived on the scene, her frantic plea could be heard, "Quickly, bring the child to me, dear!"

The infant, barely over 8 months to 1 year, sported a head of grey hair and eyes sparkling like the constellations above. Swaddled in a blue linen cloth, the child wore a curious necklace of unknown materials, which appeared to be more of charm than ostentation.

At first sight, Mary was smitten with the boy, and declared to her husband, while cradling the infant,

"Dear, I wish to raise this child as our own. Surely, this is a divine blessing, and we shall cherish it accordingly."

Though Joseph was unsure, given the state of their already precarious finances, he relented to his wife's heartfelt plea.

"Poor child," he lamented, "Abandoned by your own kin. Do not fear, although we may not have the wealth of the kingdom's nobles, we shall love you as our own and raise you to become a fine man."

With the frigid night encroaching, Joseph urged his family to retire and seek repose. The infant was brought in and a fire was kindled to stave off the bitter chill. Mary started nursing Grey. She had ample milk to spare having also fed little Devon.

With thoughts swirling in her mind, she posed a question to her husband, "Dear, what name shall we give this little one?"

Joseph, fixed his eyes upon the child, and responded, "Grey...Grey Anaheim."

After a grueling day, the Anaheim family retired to their slumber with a sigh of relief. The enveloping night granted them the repose necessary to face the day that lay ahead with renewed vigor.