This tale is told from the point of view of one character to another, so dialogue between them is present.
Bluewind perked her stubby ears in curiosity. "Normally I don't find history by itself too interesting in some of those textbooks you carry, but you tell it so good."
Shade lifted her brows and smiled. "Why, thank you. A good friend of mine used to tell tales in such a way that he would weave the worlds of fantasy around you and you'd never want to leave. I suppose some of his eloquence has rubbed off on me."
"I like stories. Maybe you could tell me one?"
Shade blinked. "Shouldn't we be heading out? It's nearly mid-morning."
Bluewind looked around her. "Unless this fog clears... Anyway, we did cover a lot of ground the past couple of days by foot, didn't we?"I don't mind flying in the fog, but to be truthful, the shadows scare me. What it there's a Vat hiding somewhere out there? This thick-branched tree should protect us from view...
"True. One story then. And if the fog clears, we leave."
Bluewind continued to play with her dagger as she and Turk listened to Shade's tale.
"Many years ago my dear minstrel spun a tale of mischief, of woe, and of hope. I was just a chick, barely growing out my black feathers and enjoying my mother's company. Many days went by when my father would have many important duties to attend to, as he was busy with me and my sister. We would normally play together as out mother kept our home clean from all the messes we'd make from our games. Sometimes a friendly bard would come by and entertain us and our tired mother for a small price. We were enthralled by the tales of the past, both me and my sister.
"My sister was one who delighted in torturing me as the stronger of us, and also reflected this trait in the stories of war that would spark her eyes with intrest. She did love me with all her heart, yet I knew that I did annoy her at times. It wasn't my fault, we simply did what all sisters do.
"I myself longed for the tales of the underdog hero that would come to the rescue as the bard would strum excited notes from his guitar. I sadly cannot recall some of them but, I can recall one in particular that has always been with me and led me to the desire to train in the way of the bow."
Bluewind listened intently. Shade certainly had acquired a talent for storytelling, even if she wasn't at the story yet.
"I might trip up, just to let you know. I'm not the greatest at this."
Bluewind gritted her teeth in anticipation. "Just tell the story!"
"Alright, alright." She cleared her throat.
"There was a time when all of Rantis was at peace. The Vat had not yet taken form, and both the Skreeks and the Aquila could roam each other's land without suspicion. This was before the time that the Skreeks became less welcoming to visitors, but still retained their competitive nature.
"It was during the summer solstice that a competition was held in... I believe it was the Ancient City of Stones or just the Ancient City. Anyway, there the Aquila, who called themselves the Warriors of Night back then, would compete against the Skreeks, called Warriors of the Sun. We were like night and day. Even our deities were different. Yet somehow, through some great miracle, peace was managed. Now, there are times where terror can strike at the worst times. And some of those times are when things are at their best.
"This competition was one that judged an individual's strengths as a meniscus user. The Warriors of Night proudly weld their creations and thought they would win, like they had in previous years. But those years of winning did not appeal to some of the Warriors of the Sun. One of these was a character by the name of Acer, who had a gaze so sharp, no one talked back to him. Many looked up to him as their last hope in besting the Warriors of Night and proving their worth as strong and fitful warriors.
"Ahem, well, the competition was always held on Scarlet Hill, where the sun shone over the grassy hills in the morning. Acer thought that if he could get his prime competition tipsy before the match, he'd have a great chance of winning. Of course, the players were smarter than that. So he snuck wine into their drinks in such a way that they couldn't tell what they had drunk until they played their matches only hours later. Of course Acer won, winning the respect of all of Rantis and giving his people a better hope for their youth. But young Acer had a weakness: arrogance. He failed to note the sharp eyes of his adversaires and the bartender reported his odd actions in his celler the night before.
"He was arrested and tried three days later. Back then to sabotage such a holy sport was treason in the eyes of the god of the Warriors of Night. He was executed, drowned in a pond by a lead weight. Or so they thought.
"Acer was no fool either. He possessed great cunning and managed to untie himself before the waters chocked him of his life. After this attempt by his life by his enemy, he sought to destroy the very thing that had given his life meaning, the meniscus. The sport no longer appealed to him, as each arrow on it's unimaginable mechanism brought the memory of his near-death and his shattered honor.
"The Warrios of the Sun were also appalled by the execution of their hero. They refused to accept the idea that Acer cheated his way to the top, and fueled by Acer's rage, waged the first battle in the history of our world. The Warriors of Night didn't stand a chance, as Acer had led a secret party to burn the main store of menisucses in their chief's massive underground weapon stronghold.
"This attack by Acer's allies enraged the more pacifist and honorable of the Sun Warriors. This caused civil war and they split into four tribes. Unrest also existed in the land of the Night Warriors as Acer had suceded in his goal, killing the best of the menisucus welders, the chief himself. The destruction of the peace and their king sorrowed the people, and they swore to put down the weapon forever, as a testimony of laying down their pride.
"The Warriors of Night live on in the Aquila, and we now wield bows, but never again take up the menisucus. In this way the Skreeks in their land of Yanara in the north hold to their pride and assertive ways while we Aquila of Virgultis are more humbled and peaceful than they are, even if we have begun to mingle over the centuries.
"It might not have said anything pertaining to my favorite rouge hero, but it inspired me to take up the bow of silver, one that reflects a glimmer from my ancestors, the Warriors of Night."
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I'm sure it has something to do with the Aquila being literally nocturnal. Yay for literal meanings! xD But they have decent daylight vision too. 
Forgot about that.