You stare disbelieving at Master Brownhand, and before you can launch a spell at him, he uses your hesitation to weave a quick strand of fire at you.

You barely dodge the small bolt of fire that jumps from his fingers and flies past you.

Seeing he missed you, he curses and prepares another spell. You have to act quick.
> You try to work a dangerous spell against Farhan, trusting your skill to complete it before him.
You close your eyes, concentrating feverishly on a weave that you know will destroy Farhan Brownhand.

Only seconds pass, as you prepare to launch the last patterns at your opponent, but he is faster, and a bright light errupts from the emissary's fingers, and hits you in the chest, just as you are about to complete your spell.

With a searing pain in the chest, Farhan's spell throws you backward from the coach you were standing upon, and you hit the ground below head first, just as you hear a bellow of rage coming from the remaining guards...
> You continue...
You are not dead, and you are quite sure of it, because you always heared of death being somewhat of a peaceful slumber. Instead, your head feels like it is going to explode every second now, the world appears to be one of those carroussels you have visited once on a fair near the Academy, and if your stomach wasn't empty already, it would soon be.

With a groan you open one of your eyes, only to find that the world not only spins like a carroussel, but the flashing lights that dance before your vision also appear to be like the fireworks that often accompany the fairs.

You have no idea how long you were left there lieing, but when you open your eyes again, you stare into a horrific face, swollen and blurred like a nightmare come true.

You gasp and wrench from the hands that suddenly grasp your shoulders, only to find that the sudden movement brings an explosion of pain so far unknown to you into your head, and you cannot help but twist to one side, assisted by the hands, and empty your stomach for good, even though all that comes from it is blood and bile, each spasm calling forth another explosion of pain that makes you wish you were, in fact, dead.

A voice calls something you do not understand, and something cold splashes your face.

When the spasms stop and the pain subside to barely above tolerable levels again, someone holds a wineskin to your mouth, and greedily you take a gulp, only to choke at the brandy that is now in your mouth.

Coughing, and wincing, you try to sit up, and are assisted once again by the strong hands. You look at who is holding you, and finally, through the tears of pain, your vision clears and you recognize the scarred and bearded face of one of the soldiers who looks at you with some concern.

"Some concussion y'got there, lad", he greets you.

An hour later, when you feel well enough to stand up again, though somewhat shaky - the brandy helped greatly to settle your stomach, there must have been something in it - you take in the scenery.

Only three guards - and yourself - survived, but the goblins were nearly decimated, and the few survivors fled.

Lucius Tarchild and J'Arel Whitefang are both dead, J'Arel obviously the luckier of the two.

Both were apparently killed by Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, the scarred guard that woke you reports with a scowl. He interrupts his talking, and turns to spit on the ground.

Master Whitefang was slain by a bolt of lightning summoned by Master Brownhand, and Master Tarchild was slain by a darkly enchanted sword the emissary wielded when he attacked the magus.

For some reason, the emissary obviously was in league with the goblin horde, and wanted the trek to be exterminated. However, the guards managed to overcome the goblins in time, and faced by the remaining guards, Farhan slew most of them with his magic and then turned to flee.

Why he did this, the scarred man, who is named Kor, the guards never knew, but they suspect some dark treachery.

You have been unconcious for more than three hours, and it is high time to break the camp, in case Farhan, rested, returns to finish the work the goblins began.

The animals that drew the coaches are either dead or fled during the ambush, and you have little choice but to leave the place by foot in the twilight that announces nightfall.

Kor, obviously a seasoned veteran, is about to order the remaining guards to pack, when he hesitates a moment to look at you.
> You as a Magus, it is on you to lead the group.
You explain that the duty of leadership is on you, as a Magus.

Kor's eyes show quite clearly what he thinks of this, seeing that you're in no shape, but then nods in agreement.

He grunts something, then hands you some of the evilsmelling brew you were forced to drink earlier, but remembering its healing powers, you eagerly take another swallow.

Feeling the soothing warmth running down your throat, you already feel a lot better, though by no way yourself again.

Kor is ready with advice on how to proceed, and you gladly take it.

You agree that you have to break camp as soon as possible, before Farhan - undoubtedly in a better shape than you - returns to finish his work.

Basically, you only have two choices. You either return to the Academy of Alzur, reporting of Farhan's strange betrayal, or attempt to follow him into the hills, where he likely has fled - Kor reports that he teleported away when the guards charged him, and you know that teleport weaves are hard to pull off and very exhausting, and not even a master Magus could travel very far. And since there is not even a small village or a forest in the near vincinity, it is only sensible to assume Farhan must have fled into the hills.

Kor suggests going back to the Academy, reporting the emissary's betrayal and counsel then what to do about it. A sideglance towards you either means that he is concerned about your weakened state and too polite to say so, or that he thinks you too young and inexperienced to even stand the smallest chance against Farhan Brownhand.

But you are the leader, as you made quite clear, and so the decision is upon you.


You are not dead, and you are quite sure of it, because you always heared of death being somewhat of a peaceful slumber. Instead, your head feels like it is going to explode every second now, the world appears to be one of those carroussels you have visited once on a fair near the Academy, and if your stomach wasn't empty already, it would soon be.

With a groan you open one of your eyes, only to find that the world not only spins like a carroussel, but the flashing lights that dance before your vision also appear to be like the fireworks that often accompany the fairs.

You have no idea how long you were left there lieing, but when you open your eyes again, you stare into a horrific face, swollen and blurred like a nightmare come true.

You gasp and wrench from the hands that suddenly grasp your shoulders, only to find that the sudden movement brings an explosion of pain so far unknown to you into your head, and you cannot help but twist to one side, assisted by the hands, and empty your stomach for good, even though all that comes from it is blood and bile, each spasm calling forth another explosion of pain that makes you wish you were, in fact, dead.

A voice calls something you do not understand, and something cold splashes your face.

When the spasms stop and the pain subside to barely above tolerable levels again, someone holds a wineskin to your mouth, and greedily you take a gulp, only to choke at the brandy that is now in your mouth.

Coughing, and wincing, you try to sit up, and are assisted once again by the strong hands. You look at who is holding you, and finally, through the tears of pain, your vision clears and you recognize the scarred and bearded face of one of the soldiers who looks at you with some concern.

"Some concussion y'got there, lad", he greets you.

An hour later, when you feel well enough to stand up again, though somewhat shaky - the brandy helped greatly to settle your stomach, there must have been something in it - you take in the scenery.

Only three guards - and yourself - survived, but the goblins were nearly decimated, and the few survivors fled.

Lucius Tarchild and J'Arel Whitefang are both dead, J'Arel obviously the luckier of the two.

Both were apparently killed by Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, the scarred guard that woke you reports with a scowl. He interrupts his talking, and turns to spit on the ground.

Master Whitefang was slain by a bolt of lightning summoned by Master Brownhand, and Master Tarchild was slain by a darkly enchanted sword the emissary wielded when he attacked the magus.

For some reason, the emissary obviously was in league with the goblin horde, and wanted the trek to be exterminated. However, the guards managed to overcome the goblins in time, and faced by the remaining guards, Farhan slew most of them with his magic and then turned to flee.

Why he did this, the scarred man, who is named Kor, the guards never knew, but they suspect some dark treachery.

You have been unconcious for more than three hours, and it is high time to break the camp, in case Farhan, rested, returns to finish the work the goblins began.

The animals that drew the coaches are either dead or fled during the ambush, and you have little choice but to leave the place by foot in the twilight that announces nightfall.

Kor, obviously a seasoned veteran, is about to order the remaining guards to pack, when he hesitates a moment to look at you.
> You kor is a seasoned veteran, and you follow his lead.
As Kor looks at you with the question of leadership in his eyes, you only nod your head to him, and wince at the burst of pain this small movement causes.

Noting it with some concern, one of the other two guards hands you a flask with the same evilsmelling stuff you were forced to drink earlier. Remembering its healing powers, though, you eagerly take a swallow, and the pain clears away nearly immediatley - although the taste remains, and you still not feel yourself.

Seeing you recovered somewhat, Kor speaks to you: "We'll be headin' back to Alzur, the Academy needs ta know 'bout what happen' here."

You cannot but agree, and although the thought of leaving Farhan behind makes you uncomfortable, you know that you at least are in no position to weave powerful spells at the moment.

Within the hour, you are packed and prepared for the long journey back to Alzur.


The flame of the Spark is strong within you today, and your fingers itch with the desire to channel your magic.

This is it... this is how it feels to have an adventure! If not for the seriousness of the situation, you would laugh with delight.
> You will single out the most powerful looking enemies and turn them into cinder.
You quickly climb upon the coach, to get a better view of the battle.

Decisively, you summon the powers of Fire to channel thin strands of elemental flame into the bodies of the three goblin shamans, which turn immediatley into cinder.

One goblin has not dropped his bow, and fires an arrow at you, but another thin strand of fire takes care of both the arrow and the archer.

Another goblin is about to plunge his wicked looking knife into the neck of a soldier, but yelps in pain and drops it as its hilt suddenly glows bright red, which gives the soldier time to dispatch the goblin with a backhand stroke.

With their shamans dead, the goblins offer little resistance, and their morale is close to breaking point when you notice that Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, is sneaking up behind Lucius, making strange gestures as if invoking a spell.

You do not know exactly what to think of this, but then again, you are not a pesky Ice adept who needs to think through everything before reaching a decision.

Invoking the Fire again, you settle for a warning shot, and the earth in front of Master Brownhand explodes into flame.

Lucius turns around in surprise, but before you can react, Farhan has a slender, evil looking sword out and runs it through the Air adept, who's look turns from surprise to pain.

Farhan lets go off his sword and turns towards you.


The flame of the Spark is strong within you today, and your fingers itch with the desire to channel your magic.

This is it... this is how it feels to have an adventure! If not for the seriousness of the situation, you would laugh with delight.
> You will weave minor protective charms to support the guards.
Earth is not your strongest element, but nevertheless you know of charms that prevent blows and knives to find their target.

You climb up on the coach you rode in to get a better overview, and concentrate on channelling the energies out of the ground, and into the armor and bodies of the soldiers.
A few twicht uncomfortably as you know they must feel a tingling sensation, but those you enchant this way react surprised when the wicked knives of the goblins glance of their armor and skin without leaving a scratch.

The weaving of so many minor enchantments costs you a lot of concentration, and after a minute of holding the spell up, you are about to collapse.

The soldiers, however, have made the best of uses of your spells, and only a few of the goblins are left alive.

Suddenly, Lucius, who has been preventing accidental arrows to break your concentration, screams in pain, breaking your concentration.

Before the whiplash of the dozens of suddenly broken spells wipe out your mind and cause you to fall into a deep blackness, you see Fahan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, standing behind Lucius, spitting him with an evil looking sword...


The flame of the Spark is strong within you today, and your fingers itch with the desire to channel your magic.

This is it... this is how it feels to have an adventure! If not for the seriousness of the situation, you would laugh with delight.
> You will weave a minor charm to slow down the goblins.
Water is not your most powerful element, but nevertheless you know enough about how to manipulate the fluids in a being to slow it down, hoping that this will give the guards enough advantage to slay the wicked creatures.

You close your eyes, concentrating, and hoping that Lucius can keep any stray arrows away from you, and channel the unaccustomed energies of Water through your body.
Gently but unstoppable, like the tide, the powers flow into the bodies of your enemies, burdening them, slowing them, and one by one you feel, through your bondage with Water, how the life form of one after the other is destroyed by the soldiers, who use the turn of events.

So absorbed are you in the unfamiliar enchantment, however, that you do not even hear the warning that Lucius screams to you, and the last memory of living that your soul carries to the netherworld is that of a blinding light and a searing pain, melting your skin and flesh and bones...


The flame of the Spark is strong within you today, and your fingers itch with the desire to channel your magic.

This is it... this is how it feels to have an adventure! If not for the seriousness of the situation, you would laugh with delight.
> You will grab a sword from a fallen soldier and join them into the fray.
Some strange fever grips you, and you grab a heavy looking sword from one of the fallen.

Brandishing it in both hands, you roar out a challenge that comes from the heart, and charge the goblins. Suprised by your fierceness, the goblins shrink back from you, and you cut down two of them before they realize it.

However, your clothings offer little protection against the barbed knives, and you are soon swarmed by the evil beings. One goblin cuts your sinews from behind, bringing you down to the ground with a scream of rage, and it is only a matter of time before one of the wicked, barbed knives finds the way to your throat and to your heart.


Desperately, you attempt to get your bearing.

From the twoscore warriors that accompanied the emissary's treck, only one dozen survived the initial deadly volley of black arrows.
However, the guards are rallied and charge the enemy, apparently a group of about half a hundredship ragged looking beings you immediatley recognize as large goblins, led by a couple of their shamans. While a single goblin is no match for a human warrior, the shamans double the goblins' threat, and they make up in numbers what they lack in size.

Lucius is using his powers over the wind to make arrows useless, and most goblins have thrown their bows away and now wield evil looking barbed knives.

One guard, trying to charge through the goblins to strike down a shaman, is dragged from his horse, and both the guard and the poor beast soon disappear und the goblin's small twisted bodies.
> You are a magus of Air.
The torrents of Air flow freely through your spirit, and you are determined to use them.

Strangely, you are rather excited than frightened by the prospect of fighting your very first battle. So this is what adventure feels like!
> You will combine your powers with Lucius, creating gusts of wind to knock down the goblins.
You step beside Lucius, and begin to channel the energies of Air through your body.

Lucius looks at you, and you nod when he takes control of the flows of magic through your body, adding them to his own.

With no more archers shooting, Lucius forms a giant fist of air from the winds, and pummeling the group of goblins mercilessly.
Where the two of you strike with your combined magic, the goblins do not stand up again.

A shaman attempts to cast a counterspell, wrenching the control of the Air around you from Lucius, but he is swatted like a fly, for combined, your magic is too strong to be redirected that easily.

Lucius is drawing more and more power through you, and you feel the strain of it.

Suddenly, the bond snaps, and you stare in horror at Lucius' chest, from where an evil looking slender sword is protruding.

Then, something hits your head, and, added by the strain of working powerful magic, you slip into a thoughtless darkness...


The torrents of Air flow freely through your spirit, and you are determined to use them.

Strangely, you are rather excited than frightened by the prospect of fighting your very first battle. So this is what adventure feels like!
> You will attempt to use your knowledge of illusion to confuse the goblins, so that they turn upon each other.
Swiftly you climb up the coach, to get a better view of the battle.

Trusting your fellow Air magus Lucius to protect you from the archers, you begin to delve into the minds of the goblins, twisting the images they see until they appear to each other as their enemies.

Great is the sudden confusion as the goblins, suddenly panicked by the turning of their former companions into more soldiers, begin to hack and claw at each other.

One shaman, trying to counter your illusions' effects, is stabbed just in time by a panicking goblin.

The strain to maintain so many, albeit small, illusions is great for you, and after a minute of the frenzied fighting, you sink to your knees, sweatsoaked.

Suddenly, your concentration is broken by a scream next to you.

With horror, you see that Lucius has been spitted on an evil looking sword wielded by Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur.

He lets go of the sword, and turns to you, grinning wickedly.


Desperately, you attempt to get your bearing.

From the twoscore warriors that accompanied the emissary's treck, only one dozen survived the initial deadly volley of black arrows.
However, the guards are rallied and charge the enemy, apparently a group of about half a hundredship ragged looking beings you immediatley recognize as large goblins, led by a couple of their shamans. While a single goblin is no match for a human warrior, the shamans double the goblins' threat, and they make up in numbers what they lack in size.

Lucius is using his powers over the wind to make arrows useless, and most goblins have thrown their bows away and now wield evil looking barbed knives.

One guard, trying to charge through the goblins to strike down a shaman, is dragged from his horse, and both the guard and the poor beast soon disappear und the goblin's small twisted bodies.
> You wield the powers of Water.
Water, filling you with peace even in the middle of a bloody battle and allowing you to calmly assess the situation, flows strongly in you.

Life will be and has been shed, but this is nothing that you can prevent anylonger. You can only hope that it will not be your life, or that of your allies, though that hope already has been betrayed.

You briefly wonder about J'Arel's death. The goblin shamans cannot be possibly capable of wielding such magic. But the thought quickly eludes you, for you know you have to act fast and decisively if this battle is to be won.
> You will use your healing powers to revive the wounded soldiers.
You scramble up on the coach, to get a better view of the battle.

To your left, on the ground, is Lucius, protecting you from stray arrows with his power over the winds.

Closing your eyes, you search for the hidden power in yourself, and, finding it, channel it gently out of your body.

Touching the soldiers with the invisible strands of magic you invoke, you revive them and draw their pains away. A few of the wounded ones gasp in surprise, as their wounds close themselves, then they notice you, give you a curt nod of thanks, and launch themselves into the fray.

Whenever the goblins cut down one of the guards, you channel the pure life back into the body of the wounded one. Slowly, the goblins notice that they cannot harm the men, and start to panic.

However, the strain of keeping the spells flowing through you is tiring, and so you do not manage to keep your concentration when suddenly, Lucius screams in pain.

Horrified, you see that behind him, Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, has stabbed Lucius in the back with an evil looking sword.
You reach for the strands of Water again to channel life back into the Air adepts' body, but it is already devoid of life... you shiver at the implication of that, for the sword must hold terrible and dark powers to vanquish a life with only a casual thrust.

Grinning, Farhan lets go of the sword, and turns towards you.


Water, filling you with peace even in the middle of a bloody battle and allowing you to calmly assess the situation, flows strongly in you.

Life will be and has been shed, but this is nothing that you can prevent anylonger. You can only hope that it will not be your life, or that of your allies, though that hope already has been betrayed.

You briefly wonder about J'Arel's death. The goblin shamans cannot be possibly capable of wielding such magic. But the thought quickly eludes you, for you know you have to act fast and decisively if this battle is to be won.
> You will attempt to strike the enemies with a barrage of magical missiles.
You quickly climb up the coach to get a better view of the battle.

There, you concentrate briefly and hurl tiny bolts of pure magicka with deadly precision into the horde of goblins. When struck, the goblins fall down never to get up again.

As the channeling of combat magic is not exactly your specialization, the feat proves to be very taxing.
However, dozens of goblins fall to your small but deadly precise hail.

The goblins are close to breaking and turn to flee, when suddenly you are distracted by a scream. Lucius, having prevented that you become the target of those goblin archers that have not yet dropped their bow, is spitted on an evil looking sword.

You give a start when you realize that it is Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, that wields the blade that has stabbed Lucius into the back.

Grimly, you prepare to channel another two bolts of pure magicka into Farhan's direction, as you remember too late that his bodyguard is always close to him.

A blow on your head drives thoughts of magic away for quite some time, and darkness engulfs you.


Desperately, you attempt to get your bearing.

From the twoscore warriors that accompanied the emissary's treck, only one dozen survived the initial deadly volley of black arrows.
However, the guards are rallied and charge the enemy, apparently a group of about half a hundredship ragged looking beings you immediatley recognize as large goblins, led by a couple of their shamans. While a single goblin is no match for a human warrior, the shamans double the goblins' threat, and they make up in numbers what they lack in size.

Lucius is using his powers over the wind to make arrows useless, and most goblins have thrown their bows away and now wield evil looking barbed knives.

One guard, trying to charge through the goblins to strike down a shaman, is dragged from his horse, and both the guard and the poor beast soon disappear und the goblin's small twisted bodies.
> You are specialized in Ice.
The Spark, for you a crystallized snowflake, burns brightly with cool reassurance deep within you.

Quickly you assess the situation.

The goblins outnumber the surviving soldiers four to one, and even without the goblin's magical assistance in form of the their shamans, your guards will not stand a chance.

The shamans. Hmm. You would be surprised if one of them was capable of casting such a bolt of lightning as struck down J'Arel, and you are rarely surprised by facts.

So, there must be another magician close by, and someone quite powerful.
> You will attempt to divine the source of the lightning bolt that struck down J'Arel.
Closing your eyes, and trusting that Lucius' winds will shield you from stray arrows, you invoke the ancient runes of Divination, trying to make the magic tell you where the strands of woven magicka, of which the lightning bolt that charred the Fire magus undoubtedly consist, lead to.

This is a task that requires great concentration for several seconds, but your rigid training helps to fade out the screams of the wounded and dying and the clash of weapons.

In what is a split second but which feels like an hour to you, your mind picks up the magical weaves of the spell that had been cast, and unravels them.

You admire the precision and the masterwork, a great lot of energy must have been used up to strike such a powerful bolt of lightning at such precision.

Your mental fingers follow the invisible strands of magic, and you are suprised to find that the origin of the lightning bolt seems to come from the emissary's coach.

You open your eyes again and break your spell, unsure as how to deal with this piece of information. Looking towards the battle, you see that the guards are in serious trouble dealing with the goblins.

You have to act quick.
> You ignore the information, and hurl shards of ice towards the goblins.
With cold fury upon witnessing the slaughter of the guards, you cast out your arms and hands, and hurl shards of ice into the goblin horde, where they explode into tiny slivers that burn with unnatural cold.

Those goblins that are hit by the large shards themselves fall down never to get up again. Those burned by the cold splinters scream in pain and are swiftly dispatched by the soldiers which have been looking for just an opportunity.

Two more shards of ice strike down the shamans busily trying to heal their goblin fighters.

They goblins are close to routing, as suddenly, you sense someone behind you. You turn, and the last thing you hear before your vision fades to black is Lucius' inhuman scream on the other side of the coach...


Closing your eyes, and trusting that Lucius' winds will shield you from stray arrows, you invoke the ancient runes of Divination, trying to make the magic tell you where the strands of woven magicka, of which the lightning bolt that charred the Fire magus undoubtedly consist, lead to.

This is a task that requires great concentration for several seconds, but your rigid training helps to fade out the screams of the wounded and dying and the clash of weapons.

In what is a split second but which feels like an hour to you, your mind picks up the magical weaves of the spell that had been cast, and unravels them.

You admire the precision and the masterwork, a great lot of energy must have been used up to strike such a powerful bolt of lightning at such precision.

Your mental fingers follow the invisible strands of magic, and you are suprised to find that the origin of the lightning bolt seems to come from the emissary's coach.

You open your eyes again and break your spell, unsure as how to deal with this piece of information. Looking towards the battle, you see that the guards are in serious trouble dealing with the goblins.

You have to act quick.
> You ignore the information, and cause the ground under the goblins' feet to turn to ice, so that they stumble and fall.
You climb up on the coach, which is the best strategical position you can hope to achieve.

Lucius is protecting you from any stray arrows with his command over Air, and from here, you have the best overview.

You study the patterns of the goblin horde for a second, and then reach into yourself to draw out the powers that the Spark grants you.

Mumbling the necessary incantations and pointing your fingers at the fight, you allow the magical energies to escape your body and channel them to the ground below.

Your efforts are rewarded by a cry out outrage, as the first goblin slips and stabs itself on the knife of a companion. This causes a chainreaction, from which the guards of the treck unfortunately are not unaffected, yet their armor protects them from the flailing, now unprecise stings of the goblins' knives.

Lucius, seeing what you have done, directs his winds to topple the remaining standing goblins, and keeping those down that try to righten themselves again, and the guards begin to easily dispatch their smaller enemies.

But suddenly, Lucius' screams in anguish, louder than the shrieks of the panicking goblins, and as you turn to him in surprise, you see that Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, has stabbed Lucius in the back with an evil looking sword.

You are unsure of the meaning of this, a situation you are not used to, but you decide to prepare a spell against Farhan when you see his malicious grin as he turns towards you, leaving his sword sticking in Lucius' crumpled body.


Closing your eyes, and trusting that Lucius' winds will shield you from stray arrows, you invoke the ancient runes of Divination, trying to make the magic tell you where the strands of woven magicka, of which the lightning bolt that charred the Fire magus undoubtedly consist, lead to.

This is a task that requires great concentration for several seconds, but your rigid training helps to fade out the screams of the wounded and dying and the clash of weapons.

In what is a split second but which feels like an hour to you, your mind picks up the magical weaves of the spell that had been cast, and unravels them.

You admire the precision and the masterwork, a great lot of energy must have been used up to strike such a powerful bolt of lightning at such precision.

Your mental fingers follow the invisible strands of magic, and you are suprised to find that the origin of the lightning bolt seems to come from the emissary's coach.

You open your eyes again and break your spell, unsure as how to deal with this piece of information. Looking towards the battle, you see that the guards are in serious trouble dealing with the goblins.

You have to act quick.
> You will investigate the emissary's coach.
As you approach the coach, oblivious to the screams for mercy from the battle, the coach's door is openend.

Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, exits the coach, brandishing an evil looking, black sword. Directly behind him is his bodyguard, a nondescript man you would not give a second glance on a street, who looks startled at you.

Behind you, you hear Lucius scream, as a small group of goblins throw themselves at the magus, and as you are about to turn, Farhan's bodyguard is behind you with three quick steps, and then, with a stinging pain on your neck, your senses fade to darkness.


Desperately, you attempt to get your bearing.

From the twoscore warriors that accompanied the emissary's treck, only one dozen survived the initial deadly volley of black arrows.
However, the guards are rallied and charge the enemy, apparently a group of about half a hundredship ragged looking beings you immediatley recognize as large goblins, led by a couple of their shamans. While a single goblin is no match for a human warrior, the shamans double the goblins' threat, and they make up in numbers what they lack in size.

Lucius is using his powers over the wind to make arrows useless, and most goblins have thrown their bows away and now wield evil looking barbed knives.

One guard, trying to charge through the goblins to strike down a shaman, is dragged from his horse, and both the guard and the poor beast soon disappear und the goblin's small twisted bodies.
> The powers of Earth are yours to command.
The rythm of nature, which for you manifests in the Spark, is strong in you.

The Earth will be watered with blood, and there is nothing you can do to prevent this.
However, you can still protect those of your allies that have not yet fallen, and you are determined to see that victory, even against the odds, is yours.
> You will enchant the guards with the protection of Earth.
Trusting Lucius to deflect the stray arrows directed at you with his command over Air, you scramble clumsily up the top of the coach, to get a better overview of the battlefield.

The fighting looks grim, all of the remaining handful of guards are bleeding from dozens of wounds, while the goblin shamans take care that many of those goblins cut down leap back on their feet.

Determined, you act quickly, closing your eyes and drawing the powers from the bowels of the
Earth herself, channeling it gently up the guards' bodies, turning their skin hard as iron.

The guards, at first surprised that the goblins' knives seem to be deflected by their suddenly hard skin, renew the ferocity of their attacks, and the goblin shamans cannot heal their companions quick enough.

It is rather difficult for you to command so many weaves at once, for every time one of your fellow soldiers is hit, it saps a bit of your mental powers to upkeep the enchantment, but you are determined not to let another of your companions fall to the wicked goblin blades.

The goblins, suddenly facing an enemy they cannot hope to defeat, are close to breaking point, when suddenly, your concentration is broken by a terrible scream.

You turn your attention towards Lucius, and see, to your horror, that your companion and friend is spitted on a black and evil looking sword wielded by Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur.

With the sword's tip coming through his chest, Lucius falls openmouthed and -eyed on the ground, and Master Brownhand lets go of the blade, and turns with a wicked grin towards you.


The rythm of nature, which for you manifests in the Spark, is strong in you.

The Earth will be watered with blood, and there is nothing you can do to prevent this.
However, you can still protect those of your allies that have not yet fallen, and you are determined to see that victory, even against the odds, is yours.
> You will send a call to the animals of the hills and plains to come and assist you.
Leaning against one side of the coach, you close your eyes and send out a call of help to all things attuned to Earth.

You project your own image, and that off the goblins, stinking, poisoning the earth with their mere foul existence.

And your call is answered.

Suddenly, a howl errupts from the hills, a group of wolves coming for a brother in need. Both the goblins and the guards, engulfed in deadly close combat, appear to be startled by the cries of the wolves, but they quickly catch themselves again.

Then, the first goblin shaman is brought down with a single, powerful bite in the neck by a large, black wolf, who you easily identify as the leader of the pack.

You channel your powers of earth to deflect the goblins' knives from the hides of your friends, both animal and human, and the few surviving goblins turn to flee after a mere minute, as more and more wolves join the battle.

The wolves turn to pursuit the foul creatures, but not before the large black wolf catches your eyes and emits a deep growl. You understand perfectly: Brothers are there for each other, but this is a mutual responsibility. With this, the pack leader turns off to follow the rest of the pack, leaving the dazzled guards behind.

You move towards the fallen, seeing if you can do anything about their wounds, when suddenly Lucius screams with pain, and suddenly, your vision fades to black when something hard and heavy hits your head... from behind...
> You continue...
You are not dead, and you are quite sure of it, because you always heared of death being somewhat of a peaceful slumber. Instead, your head feels like it is going to explode every second now, the world appears to be one of those carroussels you have visited once on a fair near the Academy, and if your stomach wasn't empty already, it would soon be.

With a groan you open one of your eyes, only to find that the world not only spins like a carroussel, but the flashing lights that dance before your vision also appear to be like the fireworks that often accompany the fairs.

You have no idea how long you were left there lieing, but when you open your eyes again, you stare into a horrific face, swollen and blurred like a nightmare come true.

You gasp and wrench from the hands that suddenly grasp your shoulders, only to find that the sudden movement brings an explosion of pain so far unknown to you into your head, and you cannot help but twist to one side, assisted by the hands, and empty your stomach for good, even though all that comes from it is blood and bile, each spasm calling forth another explosion of pain that makes you wish you were, in fact, dead.

A voice calls something you do not understand, and something cold splashes your face.

When the spasms stop and the pain subside to barely above tolerable levels again, someone holds a wineskin to your mouth, and greedily you take a gulp, only to choke at the brandy that is now in your mouth.

Coughing, and wincing, you try to sit up, and are assisted once again by the strong hands. You look at who is holding you, and finally, through the tears of pain, your vision clears and you recognize the scarred and bearded face of one of the soldiers who looks at you with some concern.

"Some concussion y'got there, lad", he greets you.

An hour later, when you feel well enough to stand up again, though somewhat shaky - the brandy helped greatly to settle your stomach, there must have been something in it - you take in the scenery.

Only three guards - and yourself - survived, but the goblins were nearly decimated, and the few survivors fled, followed by the wolves you summoned, the scarred man adds with a sideglance at you.

Lucius Tarchild and J'Arel Whitefang are both dead, J'Arel obviously the luckier of the two.

Both were apparently killed by Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, the scarred guard that woke you reports with a scowl. He interrupts his talking, and turns to spit on the ground.

Master Whitefang was slain by a bolt of lightning summoned by Master Brownhand, and Master Tarchild was slain by a darkly enchanted sword the emissary wielded when he attacked the magus.

For some reason, the emissary obviously was in league with the goblin horde, and wanted the trek to be exterminated. However, the guards - with the help of the black wolf's pack - managed to overcome the goblins in time, and faced by the remaining guards, Farhan slew most of them with his magic and then turned to flee.

Why he did this, the scarred man, who is named Kor, the guards never knew, but they suspect some dark treachery.

You have been unconcious for more than three hours, and it is high time to break the camp, in case Farhan, rested, returns to finish the work the goblins began.

The animals that drew the coaches are either dead or fled during the ambush, and you have little choice but to leave the place by foot in the twilight that announces nightfall.

Kor, obviously a seasoned veteran, is about to order the remaining guards to pack, when he hesitates a moment to look at you.

Suddenly, a growl makes both of you look around.

The black wolf, a majestic animal, is standing at the corner of the battlefield.

One of the guards warily raises his weapon, but you call him to drop it. Ignoring the guard, the wolf casually and gracefully steps up to you.

He sniffs the air, then turns and heads of to the hills, turning his head just once to see if you follow him, then turns again to walk away.

Kor and the other two stare after him with distrust in their eyes.


Lucius is a tall, slender man. There is always the sly grin on his face, and his hair looks like he has been in a tornado.

Right now, looking at J'Arel and you, his grin nearly splits his face, causing J'Arel to scowl back.

"Well, look who's here. Not suffocated yet, I hope", Lucius grins. J'Arel only snorts with disdain, throwing you a meaningful look as if the journey would have been quite pleasant without your companionship inside the coach.

Before you can think of how to answer that challenge, Lucius continues as if not noticing the tension between the two of you: "Looks like we got ourselves some trouble coming. The captain of the scouts just raced his horse nearly to death coming here, then barely pauses to take a breath before arguing with old Farhan. Seems like they want us to make camp here, instead of driving on, but Farhan doesn't sound too happy about that."

Lucius gives the countryside an appraising glance.

"Can't say I blame them. It's a good position here, with the hills in front and the plains at the back. At least if anyone's sneaking up on us, they're doing so from only one direction."

J'Arel interrupts: "Phah, let them come, so we can finally have some use. I don't see why..."

Lucius holds up a hand to silence J'Arel, cocking his head to one side and closing his eyes, as if listening intently.

As you strain to hear anything untowards yourself, you notice it... the silence is unnatural. Where the journey was accompanied by the rustling of leaves and grass, the chirping and buzzing of insects and the caws of birds, there is now silence... even the horses of the guards seem to hold their breath.

Then suddenly the first volley of arrows hit the group. Lucius curses and hurls himself into the relative but crowded safety of the coach, but a few of the guards do not have as much luck.
The air is filled with the rearing of horses and the screams of the wounded. The captain of the scouts turns to face the enemy, but gives only a gurgle, as you can see the black arrow protruding from his neck.

Blood runs out of his mouth, and for a horrifying second, he seems to stare at you with the paincrazed eyes of the already dead, before falling from his horse only to be gored by the panicking beast.

When you catch yourself again, you see that J'Arel and Lucius are already preparing spells, even if they cannot yet see who is attacking you.
> You will leave the coach, weaving offensive magic to support the guards.
As J'Arel, suddenly engulfed in a flaming aura, leaps out of the coach, you take the exit on the other side.

Immediatley you find yourself dodging panicked horses and stray arrows. Before you get your bearing, a loud crackle is heared, and something like lightning seems to strike nearby. A piercing scream barely recognizable as human tells you that the lightning must have found a target - it came from J'Arel's side of the coach.


Suddenly, the coach shudders to a halt. Voices call out, but your first reaction of worrying is soothed as you recognize them as your scouts' voices.

The captain of the scouts, a burly man in leather armor, approaches the second coach, which is occupied by Master Brownhand, the emissary of Alzura. The captain dismounts his gelding, and appears to speak agitatedly with someone inside the coach - which is all you can make out. Unfortunately, they are too far away to understand a word.
> You will cast a minor spell which allows the air to carry the sound to your ear. [You can do that even without being specialized in Air.]
You mouth the charm to cause the wind carrying the syllables of the captain to your ear.

"...tracks! But did no follow 'em. 's gettin' dark in four hours, now jez be campin now, afore we getta beatin", the captain of the scouts says.
You cannot make out the full reply, only catching a few words: "...plan... alliance with... no harm come... not bandits..."

Then you notice that J'Arel is staring at you with unhidden curiousity, and are just about to comment, when Lucius, who had been riding on the top of the coach, opens the door and breaks your concentration sufficently to drop the spell.


J'Arel looks up from some thought in surprise, as you cough to catch his attention. His cruel eyes narrow themselves, and he pierces you with his look.

"What is it that you want?"
> You say "I don't think I like your attitude, J'Arel."
"I don't think I like your attidue, J'Arel", you reply.

J'Arel only snorts, and answers:
"And this would be your problem, or mine?"

You choke back the angry answer that lies on your tongue. After all, you are supposed to guard the emissary in case of an attack, and not squabble with a fellow magician.

With a dirty glance towards J'Arel, you decide to let the point rest for now.


J'Arel looks up from some thought in surprise, as you cough to catch his attention. His cruel eyes narrow themselves, and he pierces you with his look.

"What is it that you want?"
> You say "Can you tell me anything about the emissary?"
"Less than you, I suppose," J'Arel answers, then sighs and shakes his head.
"I heared he's a powerful mage himself. I don't know why we're to accompany him, Master Brownhand is said to be capable of taking care of himself."

"If I were you, I would rather worry about the road that lies ahead than about or passengers. The road will be getting a lot worse the next days, and when we reach the outskirts of Thalun Forest in two days, who knows what will await us in these ancient, dark and magical woods..." His voice is getting dark and foreboding, and then he suddenly breaks into laughter.

"Peasants' superstition. Likely some bandits roam the Woods, and that's the reason why lone travellers sometimes are never seen again."

He grins, and forms a magical gesture with his left palm, upon which a blueish flame appears there, a ball of pure energy powerful enough to burn through a tree when hurled with enough force.

"However, we are no lone travellers", he adds, his malicious grin broadening. Then, he claps his hands together, and the flame vanishes.

"I doubt that some ragged band of bandits is going to choose us as our target anyway," he says, sounding disappointed. "Those soldiers look like excellent fighters, and I am certain the bandits will see this as well."


It is early summer in the world of Thyr, and the smell of spring has not yet left the air.

The emmissary's trek consists of two coaches, one for the magicians, of which there are two more on board, and one for the emissary and his bodyguard himself. Furthermore, there are two dozens warriors on horse accompanying the trek, some of which are scouting ahead.

It has been two days since you left the Academy of Alzur, and by now you have left the city's military influence, as can be witnessed by the steady growing worse of the road.

You know close to nothing about Fahan Brownhand's - the emissary of Alzur - orders, or about the man himself, save that he is known to be a devious mind and a quick judge of character, abilities well received within a politician.

Also you know that your trek is carrying valuable gifts in jewels and gold for Khalar, the citystate you are destined to reach within the week.

Your two magician-companions are no strangers to you. Opposite of you is sitting J'Arel Whitefang, a young man emitting an aura of arrogance that is barely to bear in the confines of the coach. He is, as you know, a capable Fire elementalist.

Currently on top of the coach, unable to bear the presence of J'Arel any longer, is Lucius Tarchild, an Air mage of some renown. Unfortunately, Lucius is somewhat senior to you, and thus he has the right of first choice, as he explained to you with a wink.
Already weary by the long trip so far, you did not argue.
> You will use the time to study the landscape, as you have never been so far from Alzura before.
There are fewer and fewer fields with toiling peasants, this far away from Alzur's protecting arms. The road snakes through terrain that is, plain spoken, rather boring.

Your thirst for adventure is already seriously dampened - the coach, while preferable to a day on horseback, simply does not beat walking. Anyhow, through the smallish windows, you cannot see much anyway.

Sighing, you turn away from the plain fields, and wish for a book. However, the librarians of the Academy, while usually rather lenient when it came to you, were firm on the fact that no books would leave Alzur. Most likely, they were worried that in foreign lands, people would eat books.

You cannot stiffle your curiousity how the city of Khofte looks like. But that is still a good week ahead, and you suppose that you are dead by boredom until then.


This is no way to live.

Working on a barely profitable rundown farm with far too many family members to feed. It’s a damn good thing you’re an excellent hunter. However, lately there’s even been a shortage of game to thwart your efforts.

You didn’t really want to be working on the farm your whole life in the first place, you wanted to see the world but when dad died, things got a lot harder for the family and you had to take over as “man” of the house and stay put.

Something is going to have to change.

While you’d like nothing more than to go through with your childhood dreams of becoming a traveling bard without any responsibility you don’t have that luxury. Hell, you barely have time to play your lute anymore in the small amount of free time you do have. You doubt if you’d even be good enough to make a living for just yourself doing it.

But you need to get away, but what can you do that won’t allow you to completely abandon your mom and all your brothers and sisters?

You suddenly think of the choice that many in your desperate position have thought of many times before.

The army.

Its not exactly ideal, but you be traveling and seeing the world so to speak. You’d also be making enough money that you could send to your family. Your own living expenses would be provided for by the army.

Of course there’s all that fighting that usually goes along with it that you’re not to keen on. Not that you aren’t a stranger to battle as their have been the occasional bandits or kobold thieves that have attempted to steal from the farm in the past, but you prefer not to fight if possible, especially not up close. The bow has always been your weapon of choice. There’s also the matter of mass combat on a grand scale that usually accompanies army life. A lot different than chasing away some thieves in the chicken coop.

As you’re thinking about this, you also realize that there is another option. There’s a small mercenary company passing through the area. They’ve been hanging out at the local tavern for a couple days. They don’t seem to be the noblest sort from what you can tell, but fortunately they seem to have kept their revelry confined to the tavern. Who knows how they act away from “civilization” though.

Still, it’s something to consider. There probably is less attention to discipline and a little more relaxed on rules and regulations. You probably wouldn’t be fighting in some mass land war that governments are fond of waging. Mercenaries travel a lot and tend to make more, however they tend to get hired for a lot weirder jobs, usually ones that the employer doesn’t want people to know about or ones that nobody else seems to be able to handle.
> You enlist in the army
Well, as much as you’re going to hate the whole uniform thing, you’d rather there be some sort of guidelines. The mercenaries look like a rough bunch. You get the impression
you’d have to be watching your back as much as your enemies if you signed up with them.

You explain your decision to join the army to the family one night at dinner. Your revelation comes as a shock. Your smaller brothers and sisters don’t want you to go, your
brother Mallack really doesn’t want you to leave since he’ll be next in line to take the brunt of the manual labor!

Your mother surprises you as much as you surprised everyone else. You expected her to be the most vocal about you not leaving, but she sees that this would help out the family. She gives her blessing.

Before you leave the next day with your packed belongings, your whole family comes to say goodbye to you. You almost hesitate to leave, wondering if it would actually be better for you to stay, but your mother urges you on.

“Don’t worry! Mallack is old enough to take over your responsibilities on the farm. He’s not quite as skilled of a hunter, but he’ll be able to do it. I’ve always known that you’ve had a desire to travel. The army isn’t an ideal life I hope you realize though.” Your mom says.
“Yeah, I know, but I’ve thought it through.”
“Very well, you’re old enough to make your own decisions and live your own life, though I’m glad to see that you still want to help the family as opposed to just leaving in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll start sending money as soon as possible. I’ll also try to write and visit when I can.”
“I know…okay, you best get going. It’s still quite a walk to the capitol.”

You begin to leave the farm as your family wave goodbye to you in the distance.

Soon you’re on the road to your nation’s capitol. You’ve been to Zal once before a long time ago with your dad when he was trying to sell some kobold eyes to an alchemist there. You remember being overwhelmed with how many people lived there and how big it was. You always did want to go there again one day; you just didn’t think it would be to enlist in the army.

Eventually you arrive at Zal. The place is even bigger than the last time you came here. So much has changed and you’re a little overwhelmed. You don’t have any knowledge of the city so you ask the gate guard who is giving a watchful look to everyone coming in and out.

“Excuse me…”
”Whadda ya want peasant? I’m busy! Market square is three blocks down as soon as you get inside the gate here!” The guard snaps.
“No, I was wondering where I could enlist in the army.”

The guard seems to change his tone to a somewhat more cordial tone.

“Oh I see. Well, as soon as you go through the gate, take a left, and walk two blocks. The recruiting office is on the right hand side across from a general store.”

You thank him and proceed, but you can’t help overhearing the guard laughing to his buddy as you walk away. You don’t make out all of it, but “Dumb fucking hayseed peasant.” was definitely in there.

At last you arrive at the recruiting office. The man sitting at the desk looks bored at first, but perks up a bit when he sees you.

“Well now, this is a nice break in the monotony. Have a seat.”
“I want to enlist in the army.”
“Well of course you do son, why else would you be here? To join the Zalan Empire’s best right? Okay, but before we start I need to ask you some questions just so we can get a feel of where we think you’ll best serve in the Emperor’s glorious army.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Good, so where are you from son? You certainly don’t look like you’re from the city here. You look like a farmer.”
“Well I sort of am sir. My family owns a farm a couple miles from the city, I decided to enlist to help my family monetarily. Times are hard on the farm.”
“Mmm, noble of you. Your sense of duty will also serve you well too. Any combat experience?”
“Some, but nothing major I’m afraid. A few bandits. Kobolds in the chicken coop. That’s about it.”
“Don’t worry you’ll learn to be a killing machine, but your past experience are more than some we’ve recruited. Any other talents?”
“Besides farming? Um…I’m a good hunter, I use this bow all the time!” you say and show the recruiter your worn bow.
“Good. Good. We can always use good marksmen. But you’ll get the chance to use a better bow than that old thing you’ve been carrying around. What’s that other thing on your back?”
“Oh this? Well this is my uh lute.”
“Lute? Ha ha! You a bard or something?”
“Well not really, but…”
“You planning on charming the enemies with your music?”
“Uh…” you say begin to get a little anxious.
“Hah! Settle down son, I’m just messing with you. But I’m afraid whatever your musical hobbies may be you’ll most likely be abandoning them. Can’t be picking your lute while an angry ogre is charging at you or you’re storming a castle. This is the army, not an entertainment company!”

The recruiter at this point begins to look through some papers and grabs one after looking it over.

“Ah. Here it is…you know how to read and write?”
“YES!” you say indignantly for the first time.
“Okay, okay, don’t get testy. Its just most of you peasant farmer types don’t. Anyway just sign here and we’ll get you started on your basic training.”

You take the paper, and give it a pointless look over like you actually understand all the legal mumbo jumbo and sign. The recruiter takes the paper from you and then shakes your hand.

“Congratulations son! You’re in the Zalan Army now! The best damn one in this world!”

Somehow he’s more enthusiastic than you are…
> You it's boot camp for you!
6 months pass…

Six months of the most grueling physical training you’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with! However you fared better than some of your fellow cadets. Guess all that farm living paid off.

You’ve certainly improved what combat skills you had, but your marksmanship has improved greatly. You know that Drill Sergeant Kosser has been paying special attention to your abilities. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing of not.

In any event you’re being told where your first assignment is going to be. Most of those in your group are being sent to Tulan border. Not the most pleasant assignment. The fighting is getting worse there.

What started as a minor border dispute has turned into a series of battles with neither side making too much progress. Even before you joined the military you’d heard stories of the greedy king who runs the Tulan Kingdom. You heard from traveling merchants about how he allows a few demons to walk around in his lands! Utter madness in your opinion. The Zalan Empire might be a little strict on the rules and regulations, but better that than demons letting walking around, in your opinion they should all be killed on sight regardless on whether they’re obeying the “law” or not, they’re evil.

You sit anxious on your bed in the barracks as name after name gets called off. Finally Kosser calls off your name, and you fully expect to get sent to the Tulan border.

“I want to talk to you in private.” Is what you hear instead.

This makes you even more nervous. What’s he going to do? Send you on? A mission to assassinate the Tulan King?

After everyone else has gotten there assignments you follow Kosser back to his office. He sits down and speaks direct.

“Alright farmboy, I’m sure you’ve noticed me watching your marksmanship skills. You’re one of the best ones that have come in here for awhile. You have a natural talent and you’ve only improved it through training. It would be a blessing to have someone like you up at the Tulan border. The gods know we could use anything to help break the stalemate there.”
“…but?” you ask hoping that there is one.
“But…your skills might be better served in a place that has a better mortality rate, yet still needs taking care of.”
“Where’s that sir?”
“Here.” Kosser points to a map to a nearby location. It’s the Retlad Kingdom. You can’t imagine what’s going on there, since as far as you know, you’re Zalan is at peace with them.
“Retlad? I thought we’re at peace with them?”
“We are…in fact rumors are saying we’ll probably incorporate them into the empire in the near future. I dunno how much you know about politics out there on the farm, but Retlad is basically a bankrupt kingdom. Their dumb ass royalty spent a shitload of their treasury on building ships in some vain attempt to find more land mass on this world. Hah! Doesn’t exist! We learned than centuries ago! Anyway now they don’t have enough to pay for a proper military and their kingdom is being overrun by hostile Quillar tribes. They want us to help. Begging us practically and we have, but it’s a pain in the ass. Quillars are fast and as their name suggests shoot multiple sharp quills at their enemies. I’ve seen them go through plate armor.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it’s not good. The Retlad knight orders got decimated within two months of the first invasion wave. We’re taking a better approach. We need to have equally quick troops that can at least match the fire power. We’ve sent a couple of war wizards, but most of them are serving on the Tulan border. Gunpower weapons are a little too slow for this sort of thing, so we’re looking for people good with a bow. Quick enough to at least get a few shots off from a distance and run. Because hit and run tactics are what the Quillars excel at, so you’ll have to do likewise.”

Kosser pauses his talking for a moment. You take this opportunity to interject a question.

“And this assignment you say has a lower mortality rate?”
“Well, we haven’t sent as many people there yet, but so far we’ve made a little more progress there than at the Tulan border. But of course I won’t say it’s a safe assignment. Those Quillar bastards are vicious and merciless. Up to you farmboy. You’re getting a bonus here. You’re actually getting to choose your assignment. Not many that get out of boot camp get that privilege.”

Some “privilege”
> You go to the Tulan Border
You don’t like the sound of the Quillars and it doesn’t really sound all that much safer. You decide that at the Tulan border you’ll at least be with a few people you already know from boot camp and you’ll be fighting something less scary. (Or at least human)

“I’ll take the Tulan Border assignment sir.”
“Hm, I’m surprised. Hope your skills come in of some use there. Here’s your first month’s pay, I suggest you live it up here in Zal, for the couple of days you have off before you leave.”

You take the small bag and look inside. This will certainly help your family. You take a few coins for yourself and then ask if arrangements can be made to have your payment sent to your family from now on. He tells you yes, but asks that surely that you will still want some of it. You agree to just taking 10% of it. You don’t need much.

“Sheesh, living bare minimum huh? Don’t you want to eat anything other than military rations every once in awhile?” Kosser questions again.
“Nah. If I need extra food, I’ll just hunt.”
“You know there aren’t many luxuries on the border, but when a traveling merchant shows up, you might regret not having enough money. You sure you don’t want more?”
“Nope. I’ll be fine. My family needs that money more than I do.”
“Alright then, family man.”

You exit the barracks and wander the city a bit. You find it very interesting. You sort of wish you could stay longer to take in more sights. However one thing catches your eye. A small store and in the window is a lute. Looks almost like the one you had before it was taken away from you in basic training. You haven’t gotten a chance to play in six months and you’d really like to…

Hey you’re a soldier now, you’ve proven yourself. You figure you can take one personal belonging with you to Tulan as long as you keep them packed properly. You enter the store and with the little money you have you buy the lute. You spend the most of the day and the next practicing it. You didn’t forget as much as you thought. You also finish up writing a letter to your family and give it to a Zalan messenger carrier.

Finally the third day arrives for you to move out. A couple of officers arrive to take all of you. You’re stopped though as you’re picked out.

“Hold up you. What’s that?”
“It’s a lute sir.”
“A lute? What the fuck do you think this is? An acting company? Get rid of that thing, you won’t be needing that where you’re going!”
“But…”
“You disobeying me soldier?”
“No sir!”
“Alright then, get rid of it!”

You sadly get rid of your lute which you never got to play and basically wasted your money on. You don’t know what you were thinking anyway. You’re in the damn army. You’re going to be doing a lot of fighting and all of that, not playing some stupid instrument. You should’ve realized that the first time it was taken away from you in boot camp.

You’ve made this choice; you need to just put these dreams of being a “musician” out of your head right now. You weren’t meant to be one, and all those years of deluding yourself in between real work were just fleeting dreams of a teenager. Time to grow up.

While you resign yourself to this mindset, you aren’t particularly happy with it. When you get to the Tulan Border you’re even less happy. Your first battle is filled with all the bad stuff that usually accompanies such things. It’s definitely not a fun assignment and your only consolation is that you know your family is getting more financial aid for you doing this.

After a few months, you’re absolutely miserable. You don’t have your music to keep your mind off of the conditions and everything is bad here. The fort you’re currently stationed at supplies only the bare minimum of living, no magical back up, the captain is a real asshole and the rest of those you serve with aren’t too much better. Though so many are killed everyday that you never really grow to dislike (or like) anyone that much in that department. More are sent in and more die, it’s like an ongoing cycle, everyone’s so expendable in this ongoing border war that gets worse with each passing month.

It doesn’t even come to your surprise when the day comes that you’re mortally wounded while on patrol. One of the new soldiers tells you to hold on and that he’ll get help, but you know he won’t get any in time and it wouldn’t matter anyway.

As you lay dying, your only regret is that you didn’t get to play music like you always wanted to, and now you never will.


6 months pass…

Six months of the most grueling physical training you’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with! However you fared better than some of your fellow cadets. Guess all that farm living paid off.

You’ve certainly improved what combat skills you had, but your marksmanship has improved greatly. You know that Drill Sergeant Kosser has been paying special attention to your abilities. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing of not.

In any event you’re being told where your first assignment is going to be. Most of those in your group are being sent to Tulan border. Not the most pleasant assignment. The fighting is getting worse there.

What started as a minor border dispute has turned into a series of battles with neither side making too much progress. Even before you joined the military you’d heard stories of the greedy king who runs the Tulan Kingdom. You heard from traveling merchants about how he allows a few demons to walk around in his lands! Utter madness in your opinion. The Zalan Empire might be a little strict on the rules and regulations, but better that than demons letting walking around, in your opinion they should all be killed on sight regardless on whether they’re obeying the “law” or not, they’re evil.

You sit anxious on your bed in the barracks as name after name gets called off. Finally Kosser calls off your name, and you fully expect to get sent to the Tulan border.

“I want to talk to you in private.” Is what you hear instead.

This makes you even more nervous. What’s he going to do? Send you on? A mission to assassinate the Tulan King?

After everyone else has gotten there assignments you follow Kosser back to his office. He sits down and speaks direct.

“Alright farmboy, I’m sure you’ve noticed me watching your marksmanship skills. You’re one of the best ones that have come in here for awhile. You have a natural talent and you’ve only improved it through training. It would be a blessing to have someone like you up at the Tulan border. The gods know we could use anything to help break the stalemate there.”
“…but?” you ask hoping that there is one.
“But…your skills might be better served in a place that has a better mortality rate, yet still needs taking care of.”
“Where’s that sir?”
“Here.” Kosser points to a map to a nearby location. It’s the Retlad Kingdom. You can’t imagine what’s going on there, since as far as you know, you’re Zalan is at peace with them.
“Retlad? I thought we’re at peace with them?”
“We are…in fact rumors are saying we’ll probably incorporate them into the empire in the near future. I dunno how much you know about politics out there on the farm, but Retlad is basically a bankrupt kingdom. Their dumb ass royalty spent a shitload of their treasury on building ships in some vain attempt to find more land mass on this world. Hah! Doesn’t exist! We learned than centuries ago! Anyway now they don’t have enough to pay for a proper military and their kingdom is being overrun by hostile Quillar tribes. They want us to help. Begging us practically and we have, but it’s a pain in the ass. Quillars are fast and as their name suggests shoot multiple sharp quills at their enemies. I’ve seen them go through plate armor.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it’s not good. The Retlad knight orders got decimated within two months of the first invasion wave. We’re taking a better approach. We need to have equally quick troops that can at least match the fire power. We’ve sent a couple of war wizards, but most of them are serving on the Tulan border. Gunpower weapons are a little too slow for this sort of thing, so we’re looking for people good with a bow. Quick enough to at least get a few shots off from a distance and run. Because hit and run tactics are what the Quillars excel at, so you’ll have to do likewise.”

Kosser pauses his talking for a moment. You take this opportunity to interject a question.

“And this assignment you say has a lower mortality rate?”
“Well, we haven’t sent as many people there yet, but so far we’ve made a little more progress there than at the Tulan border. But of course I won’t say it’s a safe assignment. Those Quillar bastards are vicious and merciless. Up to you farmboy. You’re getting a bonus here. You’re actually getting to choose your assignment. Not many that get out of boot camp get that privilege.”

Some “privilege”
> You go to the Retlad Kingdom
You’ve never even heard of Quillars before, but they still sound less dangerous than the Tulan Border, that place is only going to get worse, you know it.

“I’ll take the Retlad assignment sir.”
“Hm. Smart. Here’s your first month’s pay, I suggest you live it up here in Zal, for the couple of days you have off before you leave.”

You take the small bag and look inside. This will certainly help your family. You take a few coins for yourself and then ask if arrangements can be made to have your payment sent to your family from now on. He tells you yes, but asks that surely that you will still want some of it. You agree to just taking 10% of it. You don’t need much.

“Sheesh, living bare minimum huh? Don’t you want to eat anything other than military rations every once in awhile?” Kosser questions again.
“Nah. If I need extra food, I’ll just hunt.”
“You know even the booze and brothel girls in Retlad aren’t THAT cheap. You sure you don’t want more?”
“Nope. I’ll be fine. My family needs that money more than I do.”
“Alright then, family man.”

You exit the barracks and wander the city a bit. You find it very interesting. You sort of wish you could stay longer to take in more sights. However one thing catches your eye. A small store and in the window is a lute. Looks almost like the one you had before it was taken away from you in basic training. You haven’t gotten a chance to play in six months and you’d really like to…

Hey you’re a soldier now, you’ve proven yourself. You figure you can take one personal belonging with you to Retlad as long as you keep them packed properly. You enter the store and with the little money you have you buy the lute. You spend the most of the day and the next practicing it. You didn’t forget as much as you thought. You also finish up writing a letter to your family and give it to a Zalan messenger carrier.

Finally the third day arrives for you to move out. A couple of officers arrive to take most of your other fellow cadets. Mostly to the Tulan border, however, it would appear you have a different escort. A young man in loose robe approaches you. He looks like a wizard, but you wonder for how long since he seems about your age.

“Hey, are you the one going to the Retlad Kingdom?” he asks
“Yeah, who are you?”
“I’m Wessel. And don’t you dare get cute and call me weasel, or I’ll have to blast you with a lightning bolt.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” You say which causes Wessel to start laughing.
“Geez, I was just fucking with you. Don’t be so serious! So you ready to go?”
“Yeah I guess, are you my superior officer?”
“Huh? Oh no. Look I got our horses waiting outside; we can do all this getting to know you stuff on the way.”

You and Wessel get on the horses and ride towards your destination. It would appear that you’re the only one from your group to be going, but of course you were the only expert marksman.

Wessel begins to tell you more about why he’s with you. In fact he doesn’t really let you do much talking at all. He says he’s a native citizen of the Zalan Empire, but he just graduated from the esteemed magic university in the city state of Nuro. Wessel goes on to and says that when he heard they needed a few wizard over in Retlad, he decided to volunteer to test his skills and get paid while doing it. He explains that the pair of you will be following the orders of a Captain Vhalat.

Everyone knows about Nuro. It’s very famous, and you always wondered what kind of magical wonders existed there, so you’re eager to hear more and he’s all too happy to tell you. Despite Wessel’s primary focus on himself, it sounds like a place you’d want to visit one day.

Eventually you arrive at the border and so far the Retlad Kingdom doesn’t look very well kept. The road begins to show evidence of disrepair and the sign posts are broken. You begin to keep your eye out for a possible attack at any second.

“Look! Over there! It’s a village and it’s under attack! Come on!” Wessel yells and rides towards the village in the distance. You try to tell him to wait, but he’s already well on his way, so you ride after him.

You’ve never seen a Quillar before, but the closer you get to the village, you start seeing humanoid creatures covered in sharp spikes running around at a fast speed which could only be them. They are indeed fearsome looking. You also see a lot of the people running from them, and even a few people dressed in protective gear similar to yours…not that its doing them much good.

“Alright you prickly bastards here’s something for ya!” Wessle shouts riding into the village with one hand raised in the air for a lightning blast attack. He shows no fear. You have no idea if all wizards are like this, but he’s either got to be brave, stupid or just suicidal. Of course he could be all three. Up until now you always thought wizards were supposed to be meek types that didn’t charge into battle and preferred to kill from afar. You guess you were wrong.
> You stay with him to back him up
This reckless idiot is probably going to get himself killed if you don’t stick by his side. You ride quickly to catch up with him in the village, and draw your bow.

Surprisingly for your first battle, you manage to keep calm and focused on the enemy. Hard to do considering the Quillars aren’t the easiest of foes. They’re quick and they’re firing their quills faster than you’re firing your bow.

The problem though isn’t the Quillars, its Wessel. He’s having such a “good time” blasting the Quillars, that he’s causing a lot more collateral damage in the process. During one of these moments, your own horse gets spooked by the incredibly close fireball blast and rears back causing you to fall off of it.

You’re still shaking the cobwebs when one of the Quillars unleashes more quills and hits you with several of them. You collapse in pain, as the Quillar charges at you. It doesn’t kill you though. Wessel makes sure of that when he throws a bolt of lightning at it.

Unfortunately the Quillar happens to have grabbed you just as its hit by the lightning. Your current pain is increased severely as the electrical current passes through your body, but not for long and your fried body eventually stops its deaths throes.

Wessel has a hard time explaining that the other transfer was hit by “friendly” fire.


You’ve never even heard of Quillars before, but they still sound less dangerous than the Tulan Border, that place is only going to get worse, you know it.

“I’ll take the Retlad assignment sir.”
“Hm. Smart. Here’s your first month’s pay, I suggest you live it up here in Zal, for the couple of days you have off before you leave.”

You take the small bag and look inside. This will certainly help your family. You take a few coins for yourself and then ask if arrangements can be made to have your payment sent to your family from now on. He tells you yes, but asks that surely that you will still want some of it. You agree to just taking 10% of it. You don’t need much.

“Sheesh, living bare minimum huh? Don’t you want to eat anything other than military rations every once in awhile?” Kosser questions again.
“Nah. If I need extra food, I’ll just hunt.”
“You know even the booze and brothel girls in Retlad aren’t THAT cheap. You sure you don’t want more?”
“Nope. I’ll be fine. My family needs that money more than I do.”
“Alright then, family man.”

You exit the barracks and wander the city a bit. You find it very interesting. You sort of wish you could stay longer to take in more sights. However one thing catches your eye. A small store and in the window is a lute. Looks almost like the one you had before it was taken away from you in basic training. You haven’t gotten a chance to play in six months and you’d really like to…

Hey you’re a soldier now, you’ve proven yourself. You figure you can take one personal belonging with you to Retlad as long as you keep them packed properly. You enter the store and with the little money you have you buy the lute. You spend the most of the day and the next practicing it. You didn’t forget as much as you thought. You also finish up writing a letter to your family and give it to a Zalan messenger carrier.

Finally the third day arrives for you to move out. A couple of officers arrive to take most of your other fellow cadets. Mostly to the Tulan border, however, it would appear you have a different escort. A young man in loose robe approaches you. He looks like a wizard, but you wonder for how long since he seems about your age.

“Hey, are you the one going to the Retlad Kingdom?” he asks
“Yeah, who are you?”
“I’m Wessel. And don’t you dare get cute and call me weasel, or I’ll have to blast you with a lightning bolt.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” You say which causes Wessel to start laughing.
“Geez, I was just fucking with you. Don’t be so serious! So you ready to go?”
“Yeah I guess, are you my superior officer?”
“Huh? Oh no. Look I got our horses waiting outside; we can do all this getting to know you stuff on the way.”

You and Wessel get on the horses and ride towards your destination. It would appear that you’re the only one from your group to be going, but of course you were the only expert marksman.

Wessel begins to tell you more about why he’s with you. In fact he doesn’t really let you do much talking at all. He says he’s a native citizen of the Zalan Empire, but he just graduated from the esteemed magic university in the city state of Nuro. Wessel goes on to and says that when he heard they needed a few wizard over in Retlad, he decided to volunteer to test his skills and get paid while doing it. He explains that the pair of you will be following the orders of a Captain Vhalat.

Everyone knows about Nuro. It’s very famous, and you always wondered what kind of magical wonders existed there, so you’re eager to hear more and he’s all too happy to tell you. Despite Wessel’s primary focus on himself, it sounds like a place you’d want to visit one day.

Eventually you arrive at the border and so far the Retlad Kingdom doesn’t look very well kept. The road begins to show evidence of disrepair and the sign posts are broken. You begin to keep your eye out for a possible attack at any second.

“Look! Over there! It’s a village and it’s under attack! Come on!” Wessel yells and rides towards the village in the distance. You try to tell him to wait, but he’s already well on his way, so you ride after him.

You’ve never seen a Quillar before, but the closer you get to the village, you start seeing humanoid creatures covered in sharp spikes running around at a fast speed which could only be them. They are indeed fearsome looking. You also see a lot of the people running from them, and even a few people dressed in protective gear similar to yours…not that its doing them much good.

“Alright you prickly bastards here’s something for ya!” Wessle shouts riding into the village with one hand raised in the air for a lightning blast attack. He shows no fear. You have no idea if all wizards are like this, but he’s either got to be brave, stupid or just suicidal. Of course he could be all three. Up until now you always thought wizards were supposed to be meek types that didn’t charge into battle and preferred to kill from afar. You guess you were wrong.
> You circle around the village
Just because he’s acting reckless doesn’t mean you’re going to, you’re going to play upon your strengths and keep as far away as you can.

You ride your horse around the outskirts of the village, readying your bow the whole time. When you can, you fire at the Quillar attackers. As quick as they are, they aren’t really paying attention to you and you manage to get in some good shots. A couple of head shots even.

At first they don’t realize where the all the arrows are coming from, since Wessel is giving them a hard enough time with the chain lightning. You’re sort of glad you decided to stay on the outskirts. Wessel is having such a “good time” blasting the Quillars, he’s probably causing a lot more collateral damage in the process.

Eventually the Quillars start to retreat. This is when you get into a little more trouble as you happen to be right in the direction of where they’re running! They still look scary and they get even moreso as they get closer. The worst has to be their shrieks. It’s unpleasant to hear to say the least.

You ride out of the way, but your horse isn’t fast enough and is peppered by quills. You catch a few in the leg yourself and you’re thrown from the horse as it reels in pain, before collapsing.

Feeling the pain you scramble for cover behind a nearby rock. Fortunately the quills don’t penetrate that. Most of them are content on just running away, but one straggler decides to try to get one more kill before leaving. That kill of course happens to be you.

The Quillar makes its high pitch shriek as it runs towards the rock. You don’t have time to ready your bow before its high jumped over the rock and on the other side of you. You quickly draw your weapon and swing it blindly as you turn around. Luckily your blade catches the side of its head, killing it. At last you collapse from the pain in your leg.

While you’re pulling out quills, Wessel and another Zalan soldier come to meet you. Wessel doesn’t look any worse for wear, but the soldier looks very tired and obviously has wounds of his own.

“There you are, lying down on the job I see.” Wessel mocks.
“Are you alright?” the other soldier asks.
“Yeah…Agh. I’ve gotten bitten in the leg by a Kobold before. Feels nearly the same except these quills go in a lot deeper.”
“Glad you guys came when you did. We were just doing a routine patrol when these quill bastards came out of nowhere! They’re getting bolder and attacking in greater number, we need more reinforcements.”
“Yeah, well good luck with that. The Tulan border is the primary concern. Besides I’m here now, I predict that this infestation will be over soon now.” Wessel boasts.

“Any…way. My name’s Tylir. I’d introduce you to the rest of my squad, but they’re all dead now. Even though it was the heat of battle, I couldn’t help notice how well you picked off several of those Quillars with one shot. That was pretty impressive.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey! What about me? I’m the one who noticed you getting attacked in the first place! I’m also the one who saved your ass!” Wessel interrupts again, he’s starting to get annoying at this point, but Tylir doesn’t seem bothered by him.

“Everyone did their part. Okay, since I’m here I’ll take you to see Captain Vhalat, I’m sure that’s who you were sent to report to, oh and wizard while your skills may be appreciated here, I’d advise you to cut down on the boasting. Captain Vhalat isn’t fond of it, and to be quite honest the other two wizards we had here were more experienced and they still got killed.”
“Hmm, well perhaps they lacked the natural skill that I of course possess.”

At this point you and Tylir just roll your eyes and get moving.

You travel through a couple of other villages and it’s pretty depressing. You see stacks of bodies being buried in mass graves while most of other Retlad citizens look thoroughly defeated. A few look in your direction, but don’t look too much, it’s like they don’t really expect you to succeed. Not exactly inspiring.

Soon you arrive in the town of Glaf. It would appear that the Zalan contingency sent here is staying in one of the bigger Retlad towns rather than the capitol. Ryan also says that the Quillar infestation is worse around here too, so the captain suspects that whatever lair they’re crawling out of is nearby and can hopefully located and cleansed.

The town itself resembles a small Zalan fort rather than a proper Retlad town, as a sturdy wall has been erected around it. The people seem to look a little more hopeful though. Tylir goes on to say that he thinks that the Retlad citizens are actually starting to prefer Zalan presence especially since their on government has been pretty ineffectual about the whole invasion. The Retlad army has only focused on defending the capitol. The Retlad royals appear to find their lives more important than anyone else’s.

Eventually you’re brought before Captain Vahlat himself. He looks up from the map he’s inspecting and addresses you and Wessel.

“Ah, I see the Empire has seen fit to send me reinforcements…wow, twice as many as I thought I’d get. Private Tylir where’s the rest of your squad?”
“Um…dead sir.”
“Of course. (sigh) So what’s your problem private? Why is your leg wrapped up?” Vahlat asks you.
“Got into a fight with the Quillars sir.” You answer.
“Oh?”

Tylir at this point interrupts and tells of what happened. Wessel looks like he wants to expand upon his deeds, but Vahlat’s appearance is a little imposing and he was already warned once, so he keeps his mouth shut. Vahlat soon addresses you again.

“Well it would seem you two have already proven yourselves useful. A lot more useful that what passes for the Retlad army, but of course that isn’t hard. Wizard, I certainly hope you don’t intend to use this place as a chance to show off all the skills you learned in your fancy Nuro college. One of your predecessors did that as well, and as you can see he’s no longer here. As for you, I hope that you can do a better job of keeping out of the way of the quills next time. Most don’t get a second chance. Alright that’s all for now. Our group is being housed for free at the Inn down the street. Free food as well, but don’t go overboard, its being rationed. You want more food or anything else you’ll have to pay like everyone else. I suggest though that you don’t do any heavy carousing. This is a high alert situation and we could be going to battle at anytime. Dismissed.”

You, Wessel and Tylir all leave at this point. Tylir goes on to show you where the Inn is and a couple of other places, but after today you just want to rest and retire to your room early. You rest your leg and begin practicing your lute. This puts you in better spirits.

6 months pass…

The Quillar invasion has nearly been eradicated. Most of the major lairs have been located and cleansed and you certainly contributed greatly to this effort. Besides your combat abilities, your tracking skills definitely came in handy a lot.

You’ve become somewhat recognized among Retlad citizens due to your actions and the lives you’ve saved. The word “hero” has been used a few times though you definitely don’t think of yourself as one. In your free time you spoke with the citizens, a lot more than your fellow soldiers though. A few of them even convinced you to play for them when they noticed your lute. It took a little prodding, but eventually you gave in fully expecting to get booed, but to your surprise, you got applauded instead. Your playing didn’t just boost your spirits it seemed. Whenever you could you played a little bit for people in what little free time you had. Never did you think that you’d be playing for any kind of audience, let alone an appreciative one.

It definitely hasn’t been all sunshine though; you’ve seen a lot of people die. More than you ever wanted to actually. You’d made friends with Tylir shortly after your first meeting and he died only a couple months later. You’ll be glad when every one of these Quillar creatures are all dead though, all they’ve done is cause misery.

You’ve got them on the run now though. You’re preparing for an attack on another one of their lairs, when Captain Vahlat calls everyone to see him, he doesn’t look enthusiastic about whatever it is he has to tell you.

“All right I’ll be brief. As much as I hate leaving a mission unfinished, we’re getting pulled out of here effective immediately. Major news is that Nuro has undergone a fucking disaster that needs to be put down like yesterday! All governments friendly to the City State of Nuro that can spare the manpower are to send help. We would be one of those. I hope the Retlad army is just competent enough to finish up what we started in their own country.”

Wessel immediately pipes up upon hearing about this revelation.

“What happened in Nuro? What’s going on?!”
“What’s going on? From what I’ve been told a whole bunch of your kind raised a shitload of undead and unleashed a bunch of hostile demons on the place! The entire city was overrun. Reports are already stating that small packs of demons are running around the nearby countryside. Most likely in the direction of the Tulan Kingdom. Not sure what that means with our border war with them, but I only see it getting bloodier around there. In any case, our job is to head to Nuro, before the undead start following suit. I hope you’re all ready for this, because this is going to be a lot different that fighting Quillars.”

You look around and see a lot of fear wash over faces and rightly so. Necromancers have a bad history on your world. When you were little you still remember hearing the tales of the Great Lich Lord that existed centuries before you were even born. He almost took over the world. Those stories gave you nightmares as a kid. The possibility of having to face something remotely similar even on much smaller scale doesn’t make you feel too well.
> You desert the army
You don’t want to die and you know if you go, you will. You regret that you won’t be able to help your family out financially anymore, but you really don’t want to die.

You pack up all your stuff in the middle of the night and sneak away from the town your company is stationed in. You figure their orders are urgent enough that your desertion won’t immediately cause a full scale hunt, at least not by them.

The first order of business is to change your identity as much as you can. And head to a place where you can play for an audience, but the probability of someone ratting you out is low if you’re recognized.

The question though is where to go. You can’t linger in the Retlad Kingdom too long, in fact you’ll probably have to move around.

You decide your first stop will be at the Garwold Confederacy. It’s a relatively peaceful nation made up mostly of Halflings and Gnomes, with lush green fields and flowers. They tend to stay out of wars and they’re also known to appreciate the simpler things in life.

Eventually you make a place for yourself there in one of the small villages. You make a living playing at the local tavern there. Most of the patrons sense that you have some sort of past that you’re trying to hide from. But just like you thought, they don’t bring it up or say anything about it and just enjoy your music.

A few months pass and you’re happy. You even meet a pretty Halfling girl to be with, and now you’re even thinking about just settling down here, since nobody’s come looking for you; however there are alarming events occurring in the rest of the world.

The assault on Nuro was a complete failure. Everyone was killed from your company. It makes you glad you didn’t go, but the fact that there is now an undead city state has everyone worried. It doesn’t help that there was also an outbreak of demons. One particularly nasty one called Velzix has conquered the Tulan Kingdom.

Due to these events a Grand Alliance of nations has been created to stop these threats. The Garwold Confederacy normally stays out of such things, but they have agreed to send a militia as part of the aiding effort.

You don’t worry too much about it at first, but as a couple more years go on, the war gets worse and more and more Zalan Empire troops are passing through the area. Normally you’d move on, but now you’re married and you can’t bear to abandon yet another one you love. You still haven’t completely forgiven yourself for the first time.

You attempt to keep a low profile, but one day a Grand Alliance solider passing through, sees you in a tavern and recognizes you. Apparently he’s a citizen of Retlad and remembers you when you were stationed there.

“HEY! I know you! Man, it’s good to see ya! How did you get out of the army? I thought the Zalan Empire had a twenty year requirement plan! You still play that lute really well?” he bellows for all inside to hear. Unfortunately one of the other Grand Alliance members with him is from the Zalan Empire who’s a real stickler for rules and regulations.
“I know who you are too! You’re wanted for desertion! I’m placing you under arrest!”

You try to escape, but you don’t get far. You haven’t been keeping up on your physical training since you deserted, and coupled with your Halfling wife’s rich cooking you’re not in great shape anymore. The Zalan soldier on the other hand has been battle hardened in the recent months. He easily catches you and beats you into submission.

You’re taken back to the Zalan Empire in chains much to the protest of your wife, but its no use, you’re going to trial.

Your family is made aware of your discovery, but none of them come to try to help you. You abandoned them long ago and didn’t even try to contact them; as far as they’re concerned you died years ago. You attempt to explain things in letters to them, but you’re never answered. Eventually you give up.

The trial is brief and the judgment final. You’re sentenced to death as an example of all those who would attempt to desert their duty during war.

As you sit in your cell counting the days for your hanging, you find out from sad visits from your wife that things are getting really bad. Dead armies conquering kingdoms, demons running amok. You almost wonder if your execution isn’t a blessing from the horror that seems to be eclipsing the world.

The day comes when the noose is placed around your neck…

“Any last words?”

You have none; you just hum a little tune and close your eyes before the trapdoor swings open, and your neck snaps.