An eerie hush fell over the bewildered throng, as the golden light shown down onto the rough cobblestone streets of this unknowing village. Many flocked to the center of town, pushing and shoving, trying to get a glimpse of the mystifying spectacle standing before them. There bathed in Godly light stood a scraggly old man. A long, ragged beard covered his seemingly bare chest, and his sunken eyes and exposed ribs indicated that he was malnourished and in need of rest. He raised a single bony finger at the sky, and started to limp closer to the now awed crowd. The thump of his walking stick echoed a deep CHUUMP through the silent village. People began to part the crowd for him, pushing back against the sides of buildings. Everyone cleared a path almost dazed, all except a small child. His mother tried to pull him back but he wouldn’t budge. Then a smile began to form across the tired mans face. It was a simple smile but it seemed to speak more than 1,000 words. “The prophecy has been passed from me to you young one, carry it well and wisely,” stated the man with a grin of relief.  The old man held out his bony hands to the young child and in them lay a golden sword glowing a deep purple. Diamonds speckled its handle and engraved over the hilt was the word "Fortis" or brave one.