DRUID OF THE EIGHT ORDER

Standing watch at the sacrificial altar in Britain, the lone Druid priest watched the storm build up around him. It was the summer Equinox, and the fullest full moon he had ever seen. He'd been waiting for what seemed hours within the ring of monolithic rocks, feeling the power of the storm grow. With each bolt of lightning, the force of energy contained inside the altar seemed to double in strength. The young Druid could see the flow of blue fire, as it passed from upright column to the next. A ring of horrendous force beyond anything he has ever seen. Being an Eight level master but only twenty-five years old, he hadn't had much time to do anything. He'd been tutored by the last of the great masters, all Level twelve's, as well as being well past the hundred-year mark! They stood facing him now, their backs to each of the tall support posts. One for each of the twelve massive blocks of granite, which made up the druidical circle they now, stood in.