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The tree of Magic

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Once upon a time, a very long time ago - There was a land called Armagh.

It was a beautiful, thriving and luxuriant land. People once flocked from all corners of the globe to live and work there.

The country had a great variety of wildlife and mystical beings. As a matter of fact, many of those native born were blessed with unusual abilities. They were trained to use these powers to help their fellow countrymen make the land prosperous and free. Those residents of Armagh were considered national treasures and held in high regard.

Unfortunately, some of them were not content with their lot in life and began believing that they were worth more because of their powers. They sought the advantages of dark magic. Forming a guild and forcing some of the magical creatures of the land to help them do their bidding. Others were forced or enchanted to join them, bound to their task by the forces of darkness; who planned a coup to gain control of the land, seeking to eliminate or enslave everyone who could not resist their magic.

Luckily, the forces of evil were pushed back thanks to the brave King and his greatest knights. But, the war left many casualties in it wake. People were left scarred and disillusioned, as widespread fear took hold of the populace. They began to openly despise everything magical as the citizens of Armagh came to feel that it was indeed magic that had corrupted the guild.

Suddenly, Armagh was not happy or thriving any longer. Everybody who was the least bit different was met with indifference, fear, or unbridled hatred. Soon, no one wanted to move to Armagh any longer and many foreigners fled for more tolerant countries.

The magical beings went into hiding after being hunted down and openly slaughtered. Magic had all but disappeared from the land.

Since then Armagh had become a fearful desolate place. It had slowly turned barren - its people poor and hungry. Some whispered that is was because the magic had been driven away, though no one dared give voice to that point of view.

Sometimes in the evening around the fire or in the alehouses stories were told. Tales were spun of a happy, prosperous land and occasionally whispers could be heard that perhaps what the land needed was for magic to make a comeback. Make no mistake - magic was still feared, hated and misunderstood, but anyone with magic in them or any belief at all kept it a closely held secret.

"A prophesy ? About what ? Tell me it". Princess Talia of Armagh looks at her old teacher Mr Adler.

He closes his eye and speak in a whispering voice:

Six scions of peace will come
Traveling from near and far
To heal the breach, and save the land

One will be forever lost
One will show his colours true
And yet another will never be the same

A soul of fire will come to lead them all
And a gentle spirit to bind them

A fighter strong to shield them
And magic hands to guide them
A heart so true to break the curse

And a darkness there to find them

"I am not sure I understand". Talia say feeling confused.

The old man grabs her hand. "A quest.. you have to gather five others and go on a quest to save the tree".