“Where you headed to, newb?  Starting zone is that way.”<br/><br/>Garahel turned wildly as another player appeared near his side, mounted atop a tall war steed wearing a colourful coat of arms.  It was a high level halfling mage, wearing an assortment of armours gathered no doubt from high level zones.  The mage grinned, raising his hand and firing off a spell aimed at his feet.  Garahel jumped to evade it, but was dropped to his knees after the second one.<br/><br/>“Dance kid!” he cackled, firing off a fireball that missed his head by the fringe.  The impact of hitting the wet soil was sobering, his amber eyes shooting up to the mage.  He saw him going for another spell, and instinctively he started pulling away from the attacker using his arms.  It gave him pause, the fireball cackling wildly in his palm.<br/><br/>“What are you doing?  You can use your legs, stupid,” the mage chortled, shaking his head.  Garahel grit his teeth.  He wanted to fight him, but he knew he would lose.  He shot to his feet and began to run back down the road he came from.  The warrior spared a glance back, and in doing so didn’t see the rogue he was on a collision course with.  His long limbs became tangled in hers, and they dropped to the ground roughly as a sharp expletive emerged from him.