On Sturma, unaware of the future, its people struggled to hold back the tide of invasion from neighbouring Draymar. On Sturma, too far within its borders, forces of a more material nature clashed. The remaining Thanes battled the Draymar to a standstill, but without a rallying figure the war would not last long. The Thanes were too fat, too full of self-importance, to rally anything but instead sat back and watched their men die from afar, defending only what was their own and not the whole of the country.
Slowly, the land was falling apart.
Without a figurehead to lead them, the Sturman would fall, and with it, a once proud country.
Should that happen, Renir would have no country to call his own.
Untouched by the war, Pulhuth sat abutting the ocean, its waves gently lapping the shores in the east while waves of a more immediate nature broke against the surviving Sturman forces holding the tide at bay in the west.
Within its walls, untroubled by rising war, Renir and his two friends waited, and prepared.
The waiting was soon to end. Time moves on.