<div class="floatleft">(http://img4.imageshack.us/img4/7946/marcusdupont.jpg)<br/>(http://img7.imageshack.us/img7/9464/falkoviansoldiers.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Marcus Dupont</strong>, Carriage #1 [Marcus Dupont, Sebastian Archambault, William Bond, Aron & Eriq Girard]<br/><br/>Their large procession had been nearing the Musarde River for some time now, and the bleak land of Falkovnia lay beyond the boundary of Dementlieu. There had been little sign of life across the great river, but Marcus knew better than to let his guard down. Falkovnia had attempted to invade his homeland several times; indeed, Marcus had seen two such wars in person. Even if the two lands were at a momentary peace, Falkovnian soldiers had been known to cross into Dementlieu for short bursts of looting and pillaging, and sometimes even kidnapping.<br/><br/>His rubbed his weary, old eyes, longing for a lazy afternoon lap. Perhaps they should stop for that picnic soon. Still, it made him uncomfortable to stop here, so close to the territory of an antagonistic people. It was the sounds of men barking orders on the wind that first drew his attention; he would chide himself later for letting his guard down.<br/><br/>Just across the wide river, there were a dozen men-at-arms, in their barbaric iron armor. Several had their swords drawn, but more were grabbing for their ranged weapons: the famed Falkovnian longbow. They were talking, and as Marcus shielded his eyes from the bright, afternoon sun, he made out what they were interested in. A figure, quite small, was dragging itself up the muddy banks on the Dementlieu side of the Musarde. Half a dozen men, stripped down to just clothing, were swimming after the small figure.<br/><br/>"Damn it," he muttered, under his breath. It looked like there was a fugitive of some sort, crossing into his homeland. He didn't particularly want to get involved, but if the men crossed into Dementlieu, it was likely that they would be harassed as well. The carriages weren't more than 300 yards from the riverbank, and the figure was running right towards them.<br/><br/>"Guns! Guns! Men, grab the muskets. Now, damn it!" Marcus stopped the carriage, and stood up in his seat. Beneath the wooden board of the driver's bench, he had a pair of muskets. He withdrew them quickly, and then hopped off the high seat at the front of the carriage. "Falkovnian soldiers approach!"<br/><br/>