There was the crazy wizard, Taliman, the kind wizard, Admin and the angry wizard, Josen who led one clan.

Taliman, better known as Tali, was truly a little crazy, but he was crazy in strange way. No matter how outnumbered they were, he’d lead a battle, his sharp blue eyes glowing white and his mouth pulled up in a grin.

Admin matched his name…to a certain extent. He was kind to those whom he loved, but if someone crossed him or those he loved, he turned in a deceptively calm cyclone.

Josen was the youngest of the Evelas clan, and he was impatient, ready to jump into fight, whether there was a reason or not.

They were the leaders of the Evelas clan, a group well known throughout the lands as fearless and protective of those they cared for.

Not four days away from the Evelas clan lived another clan known as the Parphian clan.

The Parphian clan had only two leaders.

Ziphis was the oldest, having claim to no less than fourteen grandchildren at the time this story begins. His People were his pride and joy, and when his wife, Attilyn, had been killed by the Evelas clan in a freak accident during a tournament, he had declared war on them in his overwhelming grief. Thus, for five years the war had raged.

Grithol was married, but his oldest child was only five years old when he became a leader not long after the death of Ziphis’s wife.

On the seventh day of the third month in the year one thousand and fifty three in the country of Barcklyon, a new menace spread over the land, the menace of Peitlor, the giant. Peitlor was not only over 9 feet tall, he also had very powerful magic. His favorite enjoyment was to cast a spell on a person, making them become his slave for life, that life usually lasting about a week after the spell was cast. For without mercy, he did not feed them or give the water, and they soon weakened and died.

He reached the city, Utolip first, very close to the Parphian clan. Desperate, and realizing they could not defeat Peitlor themselves, Ziphis and Grithol sent a magical wave to the Evelas clan, telling them the situation.

After many such messages, a treaty as agreed on, and the two clans joined together, and using all their combined powers, were able to shrink Peitlor to the size of a strawberry and change his power so that when he attempted to cast a spell on someone, his head would sprout a turtle out of it. The last they saw if Peitlor, he was running from two turtles, he realizing what was happening, had stopped trying to cast spells.

The clans repaired their broken promises and offered mutual explanations, and the treaties the rewrote were much more solid.

Never again was there a breach between the clans, and they soon became more renowned than ever in all the lands.