The morning sun had just began to peek over the snowy mountains to the east.  Birds sang, and animals crawled forth from their burrows to begin their day.<br/><br/>Imagine if you will, a towering stone wall, made from ancient granite, and covered in a soft green moss.  This wall marks a boundary between two allied countries, and has stood for several millennia, back before the days when the northern and southern kingdoms fought and quarreled over a disagreement that was forgotten long ago.<br/><br/>The wall itself was beautiful,  going off as far as the eye could see to the east and west.  Every mile or so was a heavy gate, manned by four border guards, Two from the south, and two from the north,  all dressed in light watchman's armor.	The guards from the North wore blue and white, and their armor was polished to a mirrored sheen.  Both of them carried tall, ornate halberds that glinted in the sunlight.  The soldiers from the south were dressed in yellow and black.  Their armor was a sparkling brassy color, and they wielded awl pikes of the same length.  They carried longbows however, slung across their backs.<br/><br/>Their weapons and armor were little more than a formality, as the two kingdoms had been under a peace treaty for the past two hundred years.  They stood watch at the gates in honor and remembrance for all who had been killed in the demonite wars, a common enemy spawned from the hells, that had arisen, and forced the North and the South to join forces.<br/><br/>Without warning, During the age of Malaik, many bluish, purple rifts in time and space had appeared, and countless demons had poured forth from them into the surrounding countryside.<br/><br/>Many thousands had died that day, horribly rended by the demonite's scythe like claws and jagged fangs.<br/><br/>That was two hundred years ago.  Due to the valiant combined efforts of the Northern and Southern kingdoms, The demonic horde had been pushed back through the rifts in time and space that had appeared along the wall.  Parts of the wall still bore the scars of this great battle...<br/><br/><br/><br/>A great, winding road ran to the north and south through this gateway where the guards stood, elegantly tiled with terra cotta bricks and pebbles.  From the North, the guards could see a lone traveler on foot.  He looked to be middle aged, with a squarish red beard streaked with gray from each corner of his mouth.  He was dressed in elegant brown wizardly robes,  and wore a wide brimmed brown hat trimmed with black, with a long white feather stuck in its band.  Following close behind him was a tawny, black headed goose, waddling to keep up with his master, occasionally honking at any flying or crawling insects that got too close for his liking.<br/><br/>Although the man walked with a blackened steel wizard staff, he stood tall, and his strides were full of energy.<br/><br/>Brock grinned as he saw Mailaik's wall come into his view.  He had made excellent time, and the walk had invigorated him.  Two days ago, the Count of Vlaira, of the northern kingdoms had contacted him, and requested that he escort a visitor of his that would be arriving from the south by carriage.  The Count had offered a generous sum for his services.<br/><br/>Brock had questioned why an escort was needed in this area.  The roads were regularly patrolled, and no bands of monsters or highwaymen were known to travel this particular road...  The Count dismissed his questions, and told him to think of it as a leisurely job, and a gift to an old friend  for his many years of loyal service.   The count had even added a cask of his private reserve of aged blackberry wine.<br/><br/>Brock loved blackberry wine.  It was an offer he could not refuse.  And so he agreed to escort this "visitor" to the counts estate, from Mailaik's gate.<br/><br/>The journey would take three days by carriage.  It  was over easy terrain, using a well maintained road.   The forests were pleasant and cool, and the fall weather promised to be beautiful.  The first night of the journey, they were to stay at the Raven's foot Inn.  A modest, good natured place crafted from the ruins of an old fortress, run by dwarves and gnomes.   Their cooking was legendary, and Brock hummed in anticipation of tonight's meal.<br/><br/>The wizard felt a slight twinge of pain in his left calf.  He yelped, and jumped forward, spinning around.  He brought his staff to bear, holding it tightly with both hands.  Frank, His black banded goose, stood before him hissing, and ruffling his wings in annoyance.  The goose was obviously not pleased with this trek, and had felt the need to make it know to his master with a sharp nip from his beak.<br/><br/>Brock Swore, and relaxed.  "Dammit Bird,"   He murmured, " I understand your displeasure , But think of all that delicious grain waiting on you at Raven's foot.   Im telling you, we needed to get out of that damn tower for a few days..."<br/><br/><br/><br/>Frank just honked angrily, and continued shuffling towards the gate, ahead of the wizard.  Brock watched him walk by, and grumbled something about stewed goose and carrots...<br/><br/><br/><br/>The guards on the Northern end of the wall snapped to attention, and called out to the wizard.<br/><br/>"Hark, and be known traveler, you approach the southern kingdoms!   Please state your business!"<br/><br/>Again, this was little more than a formality.  Anyone and everyone was allowed to pass through these gates freely.  It was just considered polite to observe tradition.<br/><br/>Brock cleared his throat, and called back to the Guards as he approached them.<br/><br/>"Hail, and well met, Guardians of the North..."  He called in his rich, baritone voice. " I am Brock, a humble student of the arcane."   He then remembered his goose, angrily charging at the guards, his wings out, flapping in agitation.  "...This is my companion, the Frank of Many feathers.  He is harmless, I assure you!"  The wizard ran a few steps to catch up to the irate fowl, and slammed his staff into the ground right in front of Frank's  blue webbed feet.	The Goose honked in fury.  Brock made a show of raising the staff as if to hit the bird into the bushes along the road.<br/><br/>Frank jumped back, and honked acidly at the wizard .  After a few moments of posturing and puffing out their chests at each other,  Frank eventually calmed down, and started to preen his feathers, still angry with whatever goose's get angry about.<br/><br/>Brock continued addressing the guards.<br/><br/>" I am here to meet with Dignitaries from the south, at this time, at this gate, and escort them  to the Count of Vlaira's court, in three days time..."<br/><br/>The guards spoke to each other in hushed voices, and all nodded in unison.<br/><br/>The guard with the bushy black mustache spoke first.  "You may approach master wizard, we have been expecting an escort to arrive.  You are most welcome!"<br/><br/><br/><br/>Brock did so, and seated himself to wait on one of the many knee high stone benches that flanked the gate.	On the opposite side of the road, Frank began pushing lumps of grass together, making a bowl shaped nest to sit in.  The wizard clenched his teeth at his bird, and it was returned with a foul hiss.<br/><br/>This promised to be a pleasant little run...  He could almost taste the hoppy Raven's Foot ale right now...