text: [Themes: fantasy, fantasy]
  
  "That's a risk I'm going to have to take," you tell Jarven. He sighs.
  
  "I guess I should have expected that, there's no reason for you to stay here with us. Have to say I was hoping you would, though, you look like you're a good fighter. Probably could've used you."
  
  "Thank you for everything you've done for me," you say as you finish up your stew. "I have no clue what would have happened if you and your men hadn't killed the person driving that cart I was in."
  
  "You'd probably be dead!" He laughs. You don't really know why he finds the prospect of your death so funny. Jarven then gets up and walks over to the chest at the end of his cot. "You haven't caused any trouble, so I'll give you some things to take with you. Hopefully they'll help." He then pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the chest. You get up and walk over, standing next to him.
  
  "Let's see..." he says to himself. "You'll need...a sword...and a canteen...and a map...and some money...and a knapsack...that should be enough." As he says each word, he pulls the corresponding item out of the chest. You're shocked by the man's generosity, but you don't question it. He stands up, holding the canteen, and turns to walk out of the tent. "I'll go grab you some food and fill this up with some water."
  
  You pick up the things Jarven had laid out for you and begin packing your knapsack. He returns with what he promised and gives the food and canteen to you.
  
  "All set?" he asks as you secure the sword to your belt. It's not as nice as the ones you have in Dialla, but it'll work if you need to defend yourself. You nod at him and he leads you out of the tent. He pulls a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it, showing that it's a map.
  
  "The map you have is an exact replica of this one," he tells you. "This," he says as he points at a small triangular marking about a third of the way from the left edge of the page, "is this camp. You need to go west to reach Vinia's border. Depending on how you go, you might hit Sirra"--he points at a house marking in between the camp and the edge of the page--"where you can stay at the inn. It's kinda run down, but it's better than spending the night in the woods."
  
  "And how exactly do I reach Sirra?" you ask.
  
  "There's a path that goes straight to the border--I'll bring you there, don't worry--but it forks a little while down. If you go on the more northern route then you'll reach Sirra. The other one's a little faster, but there's no guarantee you'll find someplace to sleep. There're some houses along that way, though. Maybe someone will be feelin' hospitable."
  
  It's a lot to take in, and you hope you'll remember all the information.
  
  "Now then, let's get you to the road," Jarven says jovially, clapping you on the shoulder. He then takes you out of the camp, leading you back the way you had walked earlier. You emerge on a road, the cobblestones worn down by years of use. It was mostly just grass, really, but it was still a clear path that you could easily follow, and for that you were thankful. Jarven grabs your shoulders and turns you so you're facing one way on the path.
  
  "West," he says, and gives you a small push. You take the hint and begin walking. As you leave him behind, you hear Jarven shout, "Don't die out there, kid!" You don't intend on doing so, but at least it makes you laugh. You wave at him without turning around, your mind set on one thing: getting back to Vinia.
  
  You've only been walking for a couple of hours when the sun starts to set. You're starting to get hungry again and there's a dull ache in your feet; the rough terrain was doing you no favors.
  
  But you push forward for another fifteen minutes or so, at which point you can see the fork in the road Jarven had told you about. As you approach, you see what looks to be a sign indicating what lies in each direction, but as you get closer you see that the paint is too faded to make out.
  
  You take a swig of water from your canteen and think. The sun is setting quickly, as it always does this time of year, and the forest is quickly coming alive with foreign noises. You need to find someplace to stay for the night--the sooner the better.
  
  Do you go to the left or right?
  
  > Right
  You decide to take the path to the right.
  
  Within half an hour, the forest is completely dark. The only light is that coming from the full moon overhead. As you walk, you look up at the sky and see it's littered with hundreds of stars, twinkling like small diamonds. You can't see as many stars in Dialla, what with all of the lights in the city. As beautiful as the sight is, you know you'll enjoy it more when you're safe.
  
  Your perseverance pays off, because a few minutes later you can see the lights of a town in the distance. You begin running down the path, eager to reach a place where you can relax a little.
  
  The town--Sirra, you presume--isn't large, but it's big enough to have a few shops and an inn. There are a decent amount of people still walking the streets, and you think that Sirra must get a lot of people passing through it since it's so close to the border.
  
  You find the inn easily enough--it's by far the largest building in the town, and most of the people on the streets are going to or coming from it.
  
  You walk in and are met with an environment far different than that found in the inns in Dialla. The room is dark and smoky with a bard at the end playing a low tune. The room is filled with people, but the conversation isn't loud and boisterous, it's almost like a quiet hum. There's a bar to the right that spans the entire side of the building, and stairs directly to your left, most likely leading to the rooms upstairs.
  
  You walk over to the bar and sit down at one of the stools. After a moment one of the workers--a stout, middle aged man with a large beard--comes over to you.
  
  "What'd you like?" he asks. He's cleaning some glasses and doesn't seem particularly interested in you. You think he might be the barkeep.
  
  "A meal and a room, please," you tell him. He laughs.
  
  "Not from around here?"
  
  "Excuse me?" You don't think you did anything that would shout to the world that you're not from the area, but this stranger obviously thinks otherwise.
  
  "You're too polite to be from Sirra," he chuckles. "But never mind that--tonight there's either rabbit stew or meat pie. What do you want?"
  
  You had stew earlier, so you go with the meat pie. The barkeep goes through a door at the far end of the bar--the kitchen, most likely--and comes back a moment later with your food.
  
  You...
  
  > eat in silence
  You dig into your food eagerly. The barkeep seems to catch on that you're not in the mood for talking and leaves, going to tend to another customer.
  
  The food is good, and it fills you up quickly. When you're finished you wave the barkeep back over and hand him a few coins.
  
  "How much for the room?" you ask.
  
  "Fifteen," he tells you. You hand over the money. He counts it, looking satisfied. "You get room twenty-four. Second floor on the left." With that he leaves and goes into the kitchen. You put your remaining money back in your pocket and make for the stairs. Before you can reach them, however, a large, brutish man steps in front of you and looks down at you menacingly. You're not exactly a small person, and yet this man towers over you.
  
  "Can I help you?" you ask. You really just want to get to your room and go to sleep, not be bothered by some giant.
  
  "I don't like your face," he grunts. You're taken aback a little, because no one's ever insulted you like that before.
  
  You...
  
  > fight him
  You don't take kindly to insults, so you throw the first punch, landing a solid blow to the brute's neck.
  
  He's stunned momentarily, but his fist soon slams into your jaw. You're knocked back by the force of his blow, and you crash into one of the tables behind you, your head colliding with a now-shattered plate. You feel the shards cut into your face, but pay it no mind. You get up and try to ready yourself for the fight, but the barkeep is suddenly in front of you and there are a few men holding back your attacker.
  
  "Get him out of here!" the barkeep yells. The men comply, dragging the struggling brute out of the inn. The barkeep turns to you and asks, "Are you alright?"
  
  "Yeah, I'm fine," you tell him, but the entire side of your face is throbbing. You know you'll be fine, though; you've had worse injuries than a bruised jaw before.
  
  "Head on up to your room, I'll have one of the staff bring up some water and a washcloth so you can clean those cuts."
  
  You nod and head up the stairs, the old wood creaking with every step you take. You go up to the second floor and take the second door on the left, just like the barkeep had told you. The room is small, with a bed and a side table, a small dresser in the corner, and a mirror hung on the wall above that dresser. A dim light comes from the candle on the bedside table. You place your bag on the bed and then look at yourself in the mirror. The side of your face is already starting to swell, and there are cuts on your temple and cheek from the plate you fell on. Your nose is bleeding, but you don't think it's broken.
  
  A knock on the door pulls you away from the mirror. You open it and a man is standing there, a large bowl of steaming water in his hands and a washcloth hung over his arm. He's probably around your age, with close-cut dark hair and equally dark eyes. He's smiling, but it doesn't quite look genuine.
  
  "For you," he says, extending the bowl out to you.
  
  "Thank you," you respond, taking the bowl from him. You walk it over to the dresser and put it down. When you turn around, you see he's standing right behind you, although you never heard him enter. He holds out the cloth to you. He's got the same empty smile as before, and up close you notice how hollow his eyes look as well. You begin to feel uneasy and want him to leave. Luckily, when you take the cloth from him he turns and leaves your room, closing the door behind him.
  
  Weird.
  
  You take your time washing your wounds, wanting to make sure they don't get infected, before collapsing on your bed. All at once, your fatigue and the stress of your situation hit you. You've been kidnapped, rescued by bandits, and walked god knows how long--all in one day. You're grateful for the adrenaline that must have kept you going, but now that it's worn off your limbs feel achy and tired, your eyelids heavy. Whether you wanted to or not, you slowly drift off to sleep...
  
  > wake up
  You're awakened by a knock on your door. You're disoriented, having woken up suddenly, and you struggle to clear your mind of sleepiness. The room is dark, the candle on the bedside table had extinguished on its own. There's another knock, a little more urgent this time, so you stand, stretch, and walk towards the door.
  
  When you open the door, you find the same man who had delivered your water the night before. You immediately feel uncomfortable in his presence.
  
  "Sorry to wake you, but I have an urgent question," he says.
  
  "Do you have any idea what time it is?" you demand. You were still exhausted, your body weary, and you wanted to go back to sleep.
  
  The man smiled. The expression looked out of place on his face. "Don't worry, it'll take but a moment."
  
  You're about to ask what he has to ask you when he suddenly pushes you back into your room with far more force than you thought a man as scrawny as he would be able to muster. You stumble back away from the man while he closes and locks the door to your room.
  
  "What are you doing?" you shout. The man doesn't answer you, he simply pulls out a knife. You groan; is he an assassin too?
  
  You...
  
  > try to talk to him
  "Hold on--" you're cut off by the dagger that now finds itself in your throat. You fall to your knees, bleeding out quickly as your vision begins to fade.
  
  This is where you meet your end.