Deep in an ancient forest, a spring-fed stream emerges at the foot of an immense oak tree and winds its way through the tangled roots and rocks in search of the Great Sea. The tree is older than legend and it has a name given to it by the Nephalim, a name forgotten long before mortals roamed the world.
With the changing of the seasons, icy north winds are bringing down the clouds from the Archmont, the massive range of mountains bordering the Northlands. The clouds dip low into the forest canopy and fill them with a dense fog, burdening each leaf and limb with dew.
Amid the fog a tiny figure rides upon a billowing pillow cloud no bigger than an ox, and comes to land beside the spring. With a simple gesture the cloud is dismissed and the fog parts just enough for the newcomer to view the spring and the tree in one glance. After pausing for a moment to think, the figure sits down beside the spring and dangles his legs in the small pool that formed at the mouth of the spring.
Then, with a hiccup, he vanishes!
