Prologue
"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." - G.K. Chesterton
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Legends are said to have been born out of human history and human experience; kernels of versimilitude carried through the years, blending into the shadows and whispers of the generations who pass them along, until their sharp, truthful edges have been softened past the bounds of reality, and their origins have become uncertain, lost in the mists of time.
Myaengaer is a land of legend. A place, not unlike King Arthur's Camelot, where history, fairytale and fable have intermingled over the centuries to obscure its own, real claim on the fabric of Britain's past.
Stories have persisted about the small kingdom lost to historians, on the edge of medieval Devonshire, bordered by the larger Briton holdings of Dumnonia to the south, and the powerful, wild Kingdom of Cornwall, to the west. Whispers and murmurs of a place where England's fairytales found their origin, and magic and enchantment were not merely pieces of fiction intended to amuse the children of the nursery.
Central to these stories are those of a great battle, known to historians only as between the forces of the mighty Wessex, most powerful of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, and a kingdom of Devonshire. Posterity has officially recorded only its existence, leaving out its outcome, its causes or the suggestions of a time when a great shadow of evil threatened again to consume not only one kingdom, but all, in its suffocating, cloying darkness.
This, is the story behind the legend.
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