| You have all heard the Legends. The stories told of old, about dragons and magic, centaurs and beasts of old. You have heard of the Lycian and vampires, ogres, goblins and other creatures of the night: tales of bravery and justice, and cowardice and oppression. You have cried as our heroes lay stricken and dying, as lovers are ripped apart, and the innocent are forsaken. We have cheered as the oppressed have risen up against their oppressors and said “no more”, as those of humble origins have become great. These tales have been told and retold, yet never lose their attraction. This shall be no different. Many have told of the heroes, the men and women who are pure, but the truth my friends is that no one is pure. For we were all born in iniquity as the great psalmist wrote. No my friend’s, the truth is darkness resides in all of us. It is an ever present evil that threatens to consume us. Our own darkness is more dangerous than any tyrant we every face down, every dark lord we ever send to the pits of Hell. Though we face many evils, our own fears, lusts, passions and hatreds will be our downfall. Who am I? Well, that we will have to see. 
 My name is Farel Cazador; I was born to parents of high rank among the Wolven tribe Escuridade. When I was very young my parents died in the war of the humans. They sought us out, and slaughtered us in droves, scattering our pups to the ends of the earth. Pups you say? Yes I said pups. You see on Gante de Estrelas, there exist a number of creatures considered myths on other worlds of Jeová; vampires, goblins, ogres, centaurs, dwarfs, and the Fáe, as well as a number of other creatures. In all fairness the Lycian are largely to blame for the human’s hatred and fear of us, though their own extreme arrogance and pride contribute as well. You see we share a trait with the Lycian in that we are shape shifters, and can take on almost human form, though it is more elven than human. And we can take the shape of wolves. However our similarity with the Lycian stops there. We are not limited by cycles of the moon, nor are we a cursed people. We are a tribal people, with laws and courts just like any human civilization. But I digress.
 
 My story is long and complicated, and I make no claim to be a hero. I have seen my share of darkness, and it is only by the guidance of the All Knowing, that I am as I am today. In the following pages I will try to lay out my story as best I can, alas however my memory continues to fail, and I cannot promise that all will be as clear and as I would like. But try I will. I must begin with a chapter of my life I do not remember fondly, but if you are to know my story then it must be told.
 
 
 
 
 A figure, dressed in long dark robes, slowly pulls the heavy doors open. The building to which he enters is beautiful and ornate. Scholars from many lands come here, to pursue knowledge, and to learn from one another. The stained glass windows depicting figures of myth and legend splay beams of colored sunlight across the floor. The vaulted ceiling above adds both beauty and presence to the large main hall. The figure slowly approaches the dais, as he is carefully observed on all sides by the elders and members of this place. The man, for that is what he is, begins with deep rolling tones, “Elders, members, and people of the HW, I beg entrance into your membership. I have come with recommendation of NotThatShort Mimetes, and I have other friends among you. My name is Vincent Hill. I aspire, like the esteemed members of this place, to share and grow my talents, and bring honor to the Holy One. My talents, though not great, may yet be of help and use to this membership. Presented to you is a sample of my abilities. I hope greatly to take my seat among you within the walls of the Hall of HW. May your judgment be clear and your prayers answered.”
 
 Stepping away from the dais, the young man (for indeed he was a young man, barely in his twentieth year) retreated to the gardens of HW to await the decision of the council. His bright brown eyes, consumed everything around him, observing it’s every detail. His tall muscular figure was imposing, yet his touch gentle. His dark locks, fell messily against the top of his smooth shaven face. He moved with a heavy, steady trod. He seated himself on a stone bench in the courtyard of the HW, and played with a stray lamb. This man was no stranger to baby animals, his firm but gentle touch told that. Here we leave him, waiting for the council to come to a determination.
 
 About me,
 Name: Vincent Hill (as far as you’re concerned)
 Age: 20
 Stature: 6’2”
 Descent: Scotch-German, with some Native American (and a stew of other things)
 Likes: Too many to list
 Dislikes: Going to the Dentist and peas.
 Occupation: Sorted
 Experiences: Lots
 Religious Views: Conservative Christian
 Political Views: Constitution Party (party motto is “To Honor God, Protect the constitution, and Restore the family.”)
 
 I have raised lambs, goats, cows, chickens, and a mishmash of other things. I enjoy a large variety of genres in both literature and music.
 
 Hey all, I just joined, above is a sample of one of my MANY story ideas. I am good with ideas, but struggle to build the world in which a story is set, and to write flowing action. I envision my stories as movies in my head, but have a hard time adequately transferring them to paper. I also write songs, and play a little guitar and piano. Hopefully you can help me improve my abilities. I am open to reviewing and critiquing stories for people, as I am much better at working within an already built structure, and simply adding to the existing fabric. Hope to get to know you all better in the following months.
 
 
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