"Hey Grampa, tell us a story"
"Yea gramps please tell us a good one. I love your stories"
"Very well what kind of story would you like tonight? A short one or a long one? Maybe a scary one?"
"NO!!! Tell us a long one please, mom and dad wont be back for hours, and we aren't suppose to go outside this late."
"I know! Tell us about the hero king!!"
"Yes please I love that story! Its just so cool, full of fighting and adventure!"
"The Hero king, hmmm no not that one. Its to over told. Instead I think I have a better one." The old man got up and walked over to an old bookshelf, pulling down a few leather bound books and dusting them off. He turned back to his chair beside his brick fire place and the four young ones siting or laying down around his old battered leather chair. "I think your all old enough now to learn about one of the true heroes of the Tribe. It wasn't the Hero king for all that he is more well known. These old books are some of his journals. There are also a few others that, all together, form the History of the Tribe. I think this is the story that I should tell you tonight." He slowly walked back to his chair and sat down. The old battered books he put on the side table next to it. Picking out the oldest book, he smiled and stroked it lovingly. They had kept him compony for a long time now, and this was a story that needed to be shared. "It all started long ago....