Crrrrrack.....The zen-like stillness of dawn was cruelly broken by the sound of blood soaked whip against rough horse skin. Aged old eyes weary from many years of bearing the weight of man pleaded against all odds, looking to the red broken clay soil below for some shred of pity. Yet, he was strong, the strongest among his five brothers. Sometimes, he felt that had lead to his present predicament. Even now, straddled by an unforgiving master, he still stood tall and hefty, his pride untouched. For he carried no ordinary man, this was a time to be reckoned, his master had a purpose and he knew there would be no stopping him. The gods, the winds, kings and kins had tried. All had been slain, left to rot behind for the vultures. On top, the rider looked rocking with his eye piercing, tatooed arms, tapered jacket, faded blue jeans and the biggest, meanest electric guitar with Humbucker twin pickups slung across his shoulder. A simple yet elegant neck, crafted to perfection by the best in the world, Mr.Gibson himself. The odd thing though was that the place where you'd expect a cord to plugin was missing, instead stood the longest pole attached to the base of the guitar. It made the jousting lances look like mere toys. For 14 hours straight he rode over the clay roads, never hesitating, never faltering, steady in his whipping, ensuring the steed would never let down its rhythm. Suddenly, he pulled on the reins, stopping to look up into the sky. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the reason he had slain all those men that had dared seek his purpose in their lands. This was the only place it was possible, night had fallen, it was dark and still, yet in the distance one could make out a storm approaching, as if jusytifying his presence. When lightning struck there was a huge noise, masking the thunder and all sound around the planet. He began playing knowing he was on the path to ascension, to the world where only the worthiest and hardiest of strummers would be allowed passage, "The Rockers Abyss".