Chapter 1 - intro

Introduction:





The gleaming sun rose up over the beautiful island that was called bird's point. It was aptly named, for the island was inhabited entirely by Kargarocs, large, ugly-faced birds with beautiful lorange and green tails. The birds had inhabited the island for centuries, and they took pride in holding it as their homeland. Everything was green and beautiful, even though they were not. The mountains rose high into the air, and the trees jutted out of the ground like spears, reaching eternally to the deep blue sky.

But the trees were something more. They were a monument… a long standing tribute to the hundereds that had died, and would continue to die.

It was true that they loved the island, but it was not safe. There was nowhere to hide, and often, sailors would come, with their bows, and their arrows, and they would bring with them the death, for they could not pass the island without stopping and shooting at least one of the Kargarocs.

This is why, once a month, there would be a mass funeral. The birds would bring their dead down to the bottom of the point, and they would start a fire.

Next, they would, one by one, throw the bodies into the flame, and would say a few good things about each of them.

Yes, it was true, under the happy disguise that the birds wore, there was pain. Why did there have to be so much violence in the world? Why so much death? They understood that sometimes you had to kill to survive, but that wasn't what was happening, for the people never came to retrieve the corpse. They just left it there to rot.

And the night had descended, day after day it descended, with nothing getting better, but nothing getting worse either.

That was why they had not simply declared war… viciously attacked the people that had so drasticly wronged them… they did not want things to get worse, for if they attacked the humans, the humans would have reason to destroy them, and, with their mighty weapons, it would be possible. There was no reason to fight a war that could not be won.

They would find a way, whether it was days, weeks, millenia, they would find a way. They could not continue to live this way. If only one brave human could save them… they could have peace forever.

But deep in their souls they knew… no one would come, for there were none brave enough, and even if one did come, they would be able to do nothing, for they could not understand the native tongue of the birds. Yes… the Kargarocs were forever going to be slain, and eventually the darkness would take over, and the Kargarocs would fade out of existence, never to be remembered. It was not like some of the other populations that had faded out, whose stories are still told today. No, they would have nothing left, for the humans thought they were just a nuisance. They did not realize how intelligent the birds were, nor did they realize how much of their modern technology had its roots in Kargarokian science.

The discovery of the planets, for one, had been, in fact, partly their responsibility, for they had known about them far longer then the humans. It happened one night, a Kargarock had decided to be generous, and so what he did was to dive down, close to a farmer who was observing the sky, and zoomed off in the direction of the nearest planet. The farmer had been watching the bird and, in result, saw the planet. This led the farmer to tell the astronomers, about the planet he had seen, which, in turn, had led them to look for more, and that was how the planets were discovered.

They were behind other supposedly “human” inventions as well. Knives, for instance, were a Kargarokian invention, for they needed something to carve with, for they were an artistic society from the beginning, but they needed something that was a little more precise, so they had created the first knives. Their knives were, in fact, better then ours, for they had many different kinds, for many different purposes.

Yes, the Kargaroks had always been an inventive race, but lately the ideas had been fizzling, for it has always been hard to create when you are being attacked ruthlessly every day of your life.

But far across the world, in the sacred forbidden forest, another race of creatures were having problems of theier own…

The Mothulas were peaceful forest-dwelling mothfolk. They had beautiful multi-colored wings, and the powder that was carried on them would heal whatever it touched, but they had never really had a chance to use it… at least, not while they were alive.

You see, the Mothulas weren't exactly the highest up on the food chain. Lots of things would kill them, just because they needed to. It was survival, and for the most part, the mothulas were not upset about it. It was the humans that they were upset with, for the humans killed them, but ate not. The only reason the humans killed them was for the magical powder on their wings. What that the humans didn't know was that the mothula's wings were shed once a month, and that they would gladly give them over if the humans would just ask, but they wouldn't. They would rather just kill the mothulas, and take what they wanted by force, as they had done for thousands of years.

But, aside from the attacks by humans, the mothulas lived happy lives. They loved their home, for the Great Deku Tree shed his mighty light across the sky, and all the creatures that lived there rejoiced and were glad in it.

The mothulas also had had a colorful history, but it was not, as the Kargaroks, an artistic one. Their history was a much more mysterious one. The mothulas were the first creatures to observe the phases of the moon, but rather then using that to look for more scientific phenomena, they began using it to discover things that had not happened yet. They developed the first horroscopes, using the moon's phases as a guideline. They then moved on to even stranger things, began to develop ways of communicating with each other that were much more effective then the earlier civilizations, which would communicate by dances and gestures, or the later generations that would communicate verbally. They developed the first means of telepathic communication. That is why they were constently seen in groups. If one was attacked, he could telepathicallly send a message of how to defeat the opponent, but there were still some opponents that could not be defeated, and some that they would rather not try and fight.

But somewhere, deep inside, they had more civilized feelings, feelings deeper then just the pain that they had been dealt for years upon end; there was a love, and a desperate yearning, for with their astrological mysticism, and humanity's scientific approach, mixed with a little logical reasoning from both, there would be no boundaries to what could be done. They were hopeful that one day, it would happen… one day… somehow.

But the humans were not the mothulas only enemy. They had an enemy that was much worse, and whom they hated above all things… the dreaded Kargaroc.

The Kargarocs were, in the mothula's opinion, the most evil creatures to ever roam the face of the planet. If it weren't for them, man would not have weapons, and if he had no weapons, he could not destroy the mothulas as cruelly and unusually, and in such massive numbers as they did. They could not cause that harm. Neither could they cause harm to themselves, for if they had no weapons, they would be forced to make peace with each other, for the means of killing each other would not be present.

Yes, the mothulas hated the Kargaroks with all of their hearts, for even though they knew that it was wrong to hate, the Kargaroks were an exception. They had no feelings, no heart, only a mind that hungered for bloodshed every second of every day.

Not only had they shown the humans weapons, but the birds had also had the audacity to show the humans the planets, which soon led to the humans' distorted form of fortune telling. They misread everything. Every new sight was a prophecy of doom, every newborn star an enemy. Every fault the human had was given to them by the Kargaroks. What good could they possibly bring?

At this point, I must say that although the mothulas hated the kargaroks bitterly, the kargaroks did not feel the same way towards the mothulas. Though mothulas were a delicassy in kargarokian society, they were not hated. In all awould, on occasion, make a home deep in the soil, where they could lay their eggs. The eggs would hatch, and the young mothula, hungry at birth, would ruin the crops that the earth yielded, but there was one special boy who did not agree with the others. Little did he know… he was destined to save all three.

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