Deep in the mountainous valleys of Knollen,
where sun almost never shines, lays a small
and very special village.
The folk have survived by hunting the strange,
cliff-dwelling steepstalkers above their village—killing
them from a distance and collecting their
carcasses where they fell.
They respected the art of shooting above anything
else.
If you were born in such village, your first
toy would not be a wodden horse or sword,
but a small and fully functional rifle.
Kardel Sharpeye was born in such village.
He trained hard since he was a small boy,
becoming one of the best shooters among these
strange folk for whom projectile weapons are
but another appendage, and to shoot is as
natural as to touch.
Sharpeye was respected and adored by his fellow
villagers, but he had yet to wait for a day
of his full glory.
On his day of summoning, when he was to gain
full standing in his village, Sharpeye took
the ancient test: a single shot from the valley
floor to strike a beast down from the cliffs.
To miss was to be dishonored.
He was preparing for this day for his whole
life, so he felt no fear and was sure in his
success.
With his entire village standing vigil, Sharpeye
took his shot...
There was a loud explosion, then a few seconds
later a steepstalker fell.
Kardel felt a strange feeling in his chest,
he could not feel happiness after this great
milestone.This was HIS day.
The crowd was cheering his name and celebrating,
but for some reason he could not rejoice with
them.
Something was wrong.
His feelings proved to be right very soon.
As soon as the carcas was collected, the village
grew silent, for the elders found that the
bullet had pierced its glittering central
eye then fallen to be clenched in the steepstalker's
mandibles.
This ominous sign was the literal opening
of a dark prophecy, foretelling both greatness
and exile for the gunman who made such a shot.
Kardel had to leave his village within a few
hours, a village that was his only home since
he was born.
Friends that were once playing with him for
hours were now unkown people to him.
He did not know where to go and what to do,
only that exile was his single destiny.
While packing his things, he was thinking
about his life and could not shake a feeling
that everything was just an illusion.
A mear introducion to his new life, a real
life outside the village walls.
For some reason, he found a sense in all this
and welcomed his new destiny without any fear,
even after hearing the village doors closing
behind him or seeing the mountains for the
last time.
He walked for days, without a goal.
However, deep in his heart he felt a strange
energy that was keeping him alive and diligent.
He learned to trust his feelings and follow
his heart.
In a certain way, Sharpeye the Sniper was
thus, by his own skill, condemned to make
his way apart from his people and unwelcome
back among them until he has fulfilled the
remainder of the prophecy by attaining legendary
stature on a field of battle.
