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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another chapter in the thrilling story by Lendrick; it is entitled
Rise of the Ravagers, Chapter Six
Background music “Vampires Hunt at Night”by Smartsound.

CHAPTER SIX BOOK OF THE RAVAGERS City of Brittany, 1 week ago….. “Again” Rannick exclaimed in frustration. “You will keep doing this, again and again if need be until you get it right” Slyphania was exhausted. Every fibre in her being down to the core ached with a weariness that defied belief. All she wanted to do was collapse and perhaps sleep for a week. “Again!” Rannick spat. Slyphania straightened from her crouching position and stretched. Rubbing her tired eyes, she took several deep breaths and a determined “grunt”, before re-focussing on the open tome. Rannick described the tome as an ancient text, from well before the Cataclysm and was sought after by his following, The Obsidian Order Cult. The cult dedicated itself to the preservation and resurrection of the “Ravagers”, a supreme undead spectral force that had mastered dark Chaos energy. Their goal was to be brought into this plane of existence and cover the whole world in their darkness. The Obsidian Order Cult existed to see that it was brought to fruition. The Book that thrust itself upon her those many weeks ago, was the fabled “Toemisa Ex Eravagerian”, or roughly translated by Rannick as “The Book of the Ravagers”. Re-focussing her eyes on the incantation, Slyphania started again. ______________ Later that night, finally rid of Rannick, Slyphania collapsed on her inn’s bed, so tired she could no longer stand, her legs were cramping up and would not support her frail elven weight. Lying there on the bed, her thoughts were filled darkly of the book, the incantations and spell she was being forced to memorise. Even though she was as tired as she was, sleep would not come. Slyphania had always had an affinity for the arcane arts, and had always dreamed of learning what it was like to be an “all powerful” sorceress. However, she did not picture it like this. Endless study, an obsession to strive to remember it all. So great was the feeling of need that she would forget to eat and drink, and as a result, had become weaker and sallow. Tossing and turning, the sweet embrace of slumber would still not come. Attempting a different tack to finally get a decent night’s sleep, Slyphania turned her mind towards her peculiar new friend, what was his name again, Glyph? Glyz? Glyn? Yeah, Glyn sounded familiar, ‘Glyn-drel?” That was it! He seemed nice, and kind and perhaps, a friend? Slyphania couldn’t remember too much past the falling in the cave and finding the book. The book. Always her mind comes back to the Book. As nice as the feelings for this “Glyn-drel” were, Slyphania pushed them aside. She did not have time for friends or family. She had to dedicate and devote her time to her studies. Of the Book. Tossing again, Slyphania peered over to where the book lay on her inn’s dining room table. Sleep was not about to take her, and staring at that book, the memories of blood, death and darkness came unbidden. But she didn’t remember them, not in her lifetime, then who’s? The book seemed to call to her, beckon her in within its runic pages, to learn and become strong and conquer. It was then that it dawned on Slyphania like the breaking of the sun. The book was a summoning ritual. That was why Rannick was so fanatically determined to have her learn the runes, he needed someone to perform the ritual, to summon the Ravager into this dimension. But why her? Why now? These were vitally important questions racing through her mind that needed to be addressed but she had to console herself that it wouldn’t be tonight. Still sleep eluded her, like a furtive chicken, forever out of reach. So, Slyphania thought, it all revolves around this book. It was certainly an elegant, auspicious tome, with gold filigree on the front cover and spine, re-enforced and each page was gold trimmed. Inside was pictures, the runic alphabet, some rudimentary spells and, the all-important Summoning ritual. As Slyphania stared at the book, she stated to feel lost and afraid. So far from home and dealing with unknown people and unknown forces beyond her imagining. The kept her attention more, and Slyphania thought she could hear whispering coming from the book, quiet, subtle and sibilant. Promising her things, immortality. Slyphania knew it was wrong, but couldn’t fight it. The book was too strong, possessed by an unknown entity, malevolent and evil. Rannick suggested earlier that there might even be the spirit of a Ravager inhabiting the book. Continuing to stare at the book, Slyphania felt as though she were on the precipice of a great, yawning chasm, teetering and the ground beneath her was crumbling, looking back she could see her friend, and it appeared as though he was in slow motion, mouth moving, no noise, silently screaming, reaching for her. Turning towards him, the ground continued to give way. Wanting to feel his embrace, her arm raised and arm outstretched, reaching for him. He was reaching for her, arm outstretched. Almost. Almost. Can’t move forward the ground giving way, hand outstretched, fingers almost touching. Almost. The ground collapsed. The distance between fingertips increased. Slyphania fell. Startled awake by a loud noise. What was that!?!? A knock came to the room door, loud and insistent. Slyphania slid off the bed and padded over to the door. Opening it, there stood Rannick. Dressed in a midnight black robe, for a moment, Slyphania gasped, taking him to be a Ravager itself. “We leave on the morn, we are to make our way to the Necropolis and gather some supplies” Slyphania had a sinking suspicion that when he said “Supplies”, he meant something else. “Ok, fine” she replied shortly, hoping to put an end to the conversation quickly and get back to bed. Without any further discussion, Rannick turned and was gone. Closing the door, Slyphania returned to bed and sat on the edge, picking up the book and staring down at it in her lap. Curiosity got the better of her and she opened it to a random page. At that moment, darkness exploded out of the book and engulfed her. Slyphania knew no more, and got the rest she needed, just not in the way she had expected. TO BE CONTINUED>

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another chapter of this wonderful story by enderandrew. It is entitled

The Green Rogue Volume III
Told by Joorus the Scribe

Background music Android Dream, by Smartsound

Lord Zolaas’ platemail glove slammed hard into his wooden throne, cracking it ever so slightly. It was embarrassing to constantly replace and repair his throne, but he was an impassioned man and he couldn’t hold his rage inside. His lands were dwindling, as was his power. They shifted to other feudal lords in Norgard. He felt like he had so little left and now bandits sought to take that away as well.

“Do these bastards not realize what they’re doing? It isn’t just gold or items. What if our men aren’t properly armed or prepared to fight Kobold forces? What if their will is weakened? How many would die because of the greed of a few?”

Sir Greggor stepped forward, with his palm outstretched. He did not like seeing his Lord so distressed. “Peace, my Lord. I promise I will take care of this and with haste. I agree that the cost is more than gold, which is why I take this threat so seriously. The Green Rogue is more than a common criminal and he will be stopped. We cannot fight a war on two fronts, especially one against our own people. With your blessing, I intend to take a small risk.”

Lord Zolaas’ head picked up a bit. Risk had not worked out well for him in recent years, but he also grew more desperate. One risk seemed to just lead into the next. “I’m not sure I can trust my own judgement anymore. I would not take any risk of my own volition, but if you trust it is the right thing to do-”

“My liege, I would not presume to decide for you,” Sir Greggor interrupted.

“No, it is time; it is your time. As my time wanes, you should succeed me. If this risk pays off, the glory and credit will be yours and I will step down. Not only will the Green Rogue be no more, but the poor leadership that inspired such rebellion will be no more. I cannot step down so long as he breathes, lest we incite more rebels. But if you take his head, then you should also take my throne. Perhaps you can even regain some of the lands we lost to the other Lords of the realm. Now go, and do what you must. I fear if I am associated with your plan, I will mar it with my failure.”

Sir Greggor bowed and left. He did not understand the need for politics and why any Lord should concern themselves with how much land was in their name. Everyone ultimately served the Titan, their King Granus, and thusly the people of Norgard. But perhaps this was a good test if he was fit to be a Lord himself. The thought of this risk terrified him. He was willing to risk his own life in combat, but what of the lives of others? Could he command people to leave the front lines to concentrate fully on this bandit if it meant a forward outpost might be overrun by Kobolds?

He knew the people would more easily stomach what they knew. If men died in battle to Kobold blades, it in theory should only renew the war efforts. But so long as this Green Rogue stole from men, they would have no support. Courage meant more than the might of lifting a sword in the heat of battle. At times, it meant having the will to make the hard decision.

He signed his writs and sent them off with messengers. The few mages they had would work on distractions while most every available soldier was being pulled back to merchant routes. The trap was in place, and he would have the Green Rogue’s head by nightfall. Would it be the only head taken? He hoped those writs weren’t death warrants he just signed.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another chapter in the thrilling story by Lendrick; it is entitled

Rise of the Ravagers, Chapter Five.
Background music “Lowland Invasion”by Smartsound.

CHAPTER FIVE FIELDS OF THE DEAD Midmaer Fields south of Midras The skeleton Knight shambled towards Lendrick Dawnfire with a quickness that surprised him. Quickly raising his shield to fend off its initial blow which left Lendrick’s arm vibrating from the force, Lendrick ducked and spun, bringing Light fire, his gleaming enchanted sword in a searing arc, severing one of the dead knight’s legs off from the knee and causing it to topple. Dancing quickly out of reach, the skeletal knight made another futile swing of its rusted axe that glanced off Lendrick’s plate mail boot. Spinning around, Lendrick brought Light fire down at the neck join, between the half faced rusted helmet and top of its rusted chest plate, severing the head and causing the undead creature to move no more. They just kept coming! Lendrick had rallied his contingent of the Knights of Novia to journey into Midmaer as there were reports of a practicing cult in the old Sokoth ruins near Blackblade. Burdock’s Knights were dedicated and swore to root out darkness and evil no matter where it may crawl and hide. They didn’t expect this onslaught though of undead from the old battlefield. There was definitely some dark magic at work here. “It’s sure is getting hot as well, unnaturally so…” Lendrick thought out loud, perhaps some more dark magic. Glancing over to his old friend, Burdock, a Cleric of Gaia, to see how he was faring and had to suppress a smile to himself. Burdock was definitely in his element, his mace rising and falling in a mad fervour as he moved from undead to undead, bits of bone and flesh flying in all directions. A mace was certainly more effective at smashing undead than Lendrick’s long sword, however, Light fire was precious to him, and they almost had a special bond together, so while Lendrick may take out one skeletal Knight to Burdock’s five, Lendrick would not part with Light fire. Over his dead body! “How’s fare thee, old friend?” Lendrick yelled to Burdock, the other Knights of Novia swarming and dancing around, spells flashing and undead dying. Again. “I have never been happier my friend! This is what I live for! We will smash all these hell spawns and then take the Castle!” Burdock bellowed back with a mad glint to his eyes. “Aye, my friend, I am sure you will, I might just break for some tea, then, if that’s ok!?” Lendrick replied sarcastically. “Fine by me, more to smash, save me a cup though!” The last word yelled louder as another zombie’s brain was crushed by Burdock’s falling mace. Lendrick moved onto the next, his gleaming plate armour and shield raised high. This was the life, vanquishing evil, saving lives. Burdock never felt more alive than right now. It wasn’t all fun and slaughter though, Lendrick thought more sombrely as the next three Ghouls charged. Lendrick remembered a time when he had first met Burdock, and the tragedy surrounding his friends past and their initial time together. Lendrick had known Burdock since they were children, over ten years ago, when Lendrick was only ten years old and his family had moved to the village with the newly built church. The old church had been burned to the ground by a raiding party of Kobolds. Kobolds were hideous goblin-rat like beasts that walked like men and would attack and slaughter anything in their path. Well, the village had been in their path and the church did not survive. Nor did Burdock’s parents, who were seeking refuge in the Church when the Kobolds set it alight. Luckily, Burdock was able to crawl out the rear through a small window, too small for his parents and had to watch as they went up in flames. The church was completely destroyed, and eventually had to be rebuilt, much like the village folk’s faith. Burdock swore an oath to the cross that day, that he would seek vengeance for his parents, but, befitting their memory, would study and train as a warrior cleric of the Church of Gaia. That was when Lendrick first met him, the new church had been finished and Lendrick’s priesthood training had begun. Lendrick and Burdock became fast friends, being of similar age, Lendrick was keenly interested in the warrior priest training, however, enjoyed the battle a bit too much. Without the tempered hand of a Cleric. The head priest nevertheless saw potential in Lendrick. Lendrick was sourced out to a cadre of warrior-priests to further teach him in the martial arts of priesthood and to don the armour of a warrior of light. Lendrick spent years of intensive warrior training and arduous study of the CODEX and edicts that govern the church. With the help of Burdock, and Lendrick helping to motivate him as well, they both achieved their chosen calling. Burdock became a Cleric of Gaia and Lendrick was welcomed into the arms of the holy warrior cadre of Paladins. In recognition and gratitude of his training and acceptance, Lendrick formed an elite group of people to help spread the light into the darkness of Novia. Hence, the knighthood of the Knights of Novia was established. Being a flexible group, it is ever expanding and has the full backing of the Church of Gaia. The three ghouls having fallen before Light fire, Lendrick took a breath and looked around. The Knights were finishing off some straggling undead that wouldn’t stay down, but ultimately the main fight was done. Wiping blood off the end of his mace, Burdock strode over to Lendrick. “A good fight, my old friend! I feel energised to keep going, the Blackblade couldn’t be more than a day’s ride”. “Aye, not far now, but we must tread carefully here, as we have enemies at all sides. It is almost nightfall. We will establish a camp, lay some protective runes, and make for the rift at first light” “Aye, as you say, Lord Commander” “You know I hate it when you call me that, you know you don’t have to right? It’s to keep the discipline with our younger members, not my dearest friend!?” “Aye, I know. I know that it frustrates you. Why do ye think I say it?” And with that mischievous glint back in his eye, Burdock set about making camp. TO BE CONTINUED>

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the second part of a brilliant story from enderandrew. It is entitled

The Green Rogue Volume II
Told by Joorus the Scribe

Background music “The Dark Amulet” by Matthew Pablo at www.matthewpablo.com

“Do not look down, young Alex. You must keep your eyes up,” Sir Greggor insisted.

Alex didn’t need a reminder of how dangerous these lands were. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He saw troops return from battle all the time, screaming in their hospital litters as surgeons shoved their guts back in, or sawed off limbs not fit for saving. Their screams haunted him every year of his youth. These were brave men when they left, and they returned screaming in pieces. Some did not return at all, and Alex always wondered if their fate was worse or better.

“I’m too young to die”, Alex muttered. He looked up, but kept pulling at his gloves. His hands weren’t quite large enough for them, and he felt his grip on his blade wasn’t secure enough. His armor was rushed for the occasion and his body wasn’t quite the full size of a man, though his father sought to prove he was.

“As are we all. No man knows the length of a life, but they all end too soon. You will not speak of such things again. That is how we die, being distracted by fear. Courage to conquer that fear comes from being mindful of what you love, what you are willing to fight for. Think of home and how you wish to return. Think of what you must do today to accomplish that task, and we will both return home alive. I promise you that.”

Sir Greggor’s armor was well worn. The smithy smoothed out each dent, and repaired each hole as best they could, but any trained eye could see that it was not pristine, especially the artisanry of his father’s crest. An artisan may take great pride the first time they emblazon new plate mail with their art, but a smithy takes less care in repairing anything that isn’t needed for functionality. Sir Greggor fought the Kobolds on dozens of occasions. He was not afraid, and Alex’s father trusted him with his life. Alex should be reassured. He was not. He wondered if the very same words were spoken to the countless men who did not make it home alive. If so, what good was that promise?

Alex had never taken a life, nor seen a Kobold up close. He had been educated on them and their tactics. He had been trained for this moment, but he did not want it. He could not help being born the Lord’s son in a Kingdom full of war stretching back centuries since the Fall. Each new year passed and more men lined up to prove their courage against Kobold armies, but secretly Alex wondered if maybe this war stretched even longer. What if it started before the Fall? What if neverending war is what lead to the cataclysm? What if he had no desire to define courage in the amount of blood his sword spilled?

It was too late. Sir Greggor deflected as much of the blast of the fireball as he could with his shield, but Alex felt the singe of burning flesh. It was his poorly fitting gloves that made him drop his sword he told himself. He saw Sir Greggor besieged by a full squad of Kobolds clawing their way past his armor. He swung furiously in defense, but Alex feared it wouldn’t be enough. But it was the bloodlust.

Alex looked one in the eye, and he saw a desire to kill that he did not share. He knew that Kobold would not hesitate. He would blame the bloodlust, but he had no real excuse. He fled, hearing Sir Greggor’s screams and the Kobolds’ laughter behind him. He ran and ran. He never really stopped running.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another instalment of the thrilling story from Lendrick, entitled

Rise of the Ravagers, chapter 4.

Music by Smartsound

Chapter 4
City Life

Two days later….
City Outskirts of Brittany.

The rain finally let up as Glyndrel and Alexyius made their way south, towards Brittany and hopefully able to finally catch up with Slyphania.

There were many times where Glyndrel had to catch himself and think twice about what he was doing and did he really feel the feelings he thought he felt? Shaking his head forlornly to himself, it was thinking like that which would muddle the mind and cause him to doubt himself. Focus on what’s at hand, and what’s at stake. Slyphania’s family are worried sick, and it’s up to Glyndrel to not only catch up with her, but see if he can make her see sense through the charms and manipulations of this so called wizard.

Slyphania wouldn’t even know he was following her, and had she, would she have attempted to stop him? To somehow lay some trap to thwart his progress? Destiny has a funny time with situations such as these, what, for example, had he not ever met her that fateful day? He would have been none the wiser and certainly wouldn’t be far from home now, moving into Human territory to a city that he had never visited and could be deadly and hostile, all on the off chance that what? She will run into his arms and declare her undying love and gratitude for him following her? More likely she will despise and hate him even more, and that wizard might even turn him into a frog!

Still, a frog wouldn’t have this…”No!” he must stop being so negative, focus on the goal at hand!

Focus!

Glyndrel must have been shaking his head or muttering more than he thought as it drew Alexyius’ attention who gave him an incredulous look.

“Everything alright Glyn?”

“Yeah, well, no, well, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right in some respects, what am I doing? Out here? Dragged you away from home and for what? I sometime second-guess my intentions and motivations and wonder what I actually hope to accomplish if I catch up to her!?”

“Well, we going to know soon enough” Alexis indicated with his head and Glyndrel looked up. The town gates were a sight to behold, with a large line of traffic flowing in and out.

“It’s massive…” Glyndrel breathed in awe, “I’ve never seen anything so big, and how did they construct this?’ The Castle looming in the distance.

“Must be magic” Alexyius replied off-handedly and didn’t seem to be as impressed as Glyndrel.

“With these many people, surely they won’t mind a couple more elves, no?” Glyndrel stated hopefully.

“I would expect not, we don’t present as bandits or thieves, will just have to play it by our pointy ear”.

The moved steadily towards the gate, flowing into the line of slow moving traffic, and eventually, inexorably, they approached the gates and their perspective changed, zooming into the guard booths flanking the gates and a pair of what must be city watch guards checking everyone as they passed through”

“What be yer business in Brittany then lads?” The guard stated and brought Glyndrel out of his daze of being overwhelmed to realise he was being addressed.

‘Uh, we are looking for a friend who we believe came this way a few days prior” Replied Glyndrel, thinking that the truth was always the best.

“Well, ok, but you will have to check your weapons” The guard replied and indicated to their bows and daggers on their belts’.

Glyndrel was loath to give up his ability to defend himself, and if needed hunt for food, but also didn’t want to cause any trouble and expected they should have them returned to them upon their departure.

Glyndrel gave Alexyius a nod to indicate to give up the weapons and unshouldered his bow, pulling out the dagger from his belt and handing it to the guard hilt first.

The guards placed a number on each and then gave the two a corresponding scrap of parchment with the same number on it.

“For when ye leave, don’t lose that or you won’t be getting these back, on your way then”.

They kept moving, not wanting to hold up the line for the others.

Upon entering the city, the sights and sounds and smells to Glyndrel were assaulting his senses from all sides. Glyndrel started to feel claustrophobic from the intense hustle and bustle. The Street they were in was called “Kings Walk”, and it curved away into the distance, lined by shops and filled with people of all shapes and sizes. There must have been thousands of people to a one, and Glyndrel was starting to wish for his green forests and diamond falls. It was very overwhelming, looking to Alexius for support, he seemed to be taking it all in his stride, which Glyndrel found little comfort in.

“Been here before, have we?” Glyndrel had to almost shout to be heard.

“Yeah, my uncle used to bring me here when I was little to do trading, been used to it ever since” replied Alexyius.

“So what do we do now? Where do we go?” Yelled Glyndrel.

“First thing is to find ourselves an inn, so we can get rid of these packs and have something to eat, follow me and I will lead you to a nice establishment my Uncle used to visit. It’s called the “Dusty Cutlass Inn”, and although somewhat rowdy sometimes, they got some pirates now and then, the food is delicious and the beds soft”. Said Alexyius.

Glyndrel merely nodded and followed his friend.

As they walked, having to push their way through the crowd, it was all Glyndrel could do to keep his friend in sight, and after traversing numerous side streets, Alexyius indicated to Glyndrel and pointed, off in the distance, was a two story building and out the front a sign that read “The Dusty Cutlass” with a cutlass hanging underneath.

Approaching the inn, a Glyndrel noticed a young Human boy, no more than maybe seven or eight, quickly walk up behind one woman and quickly cut the purse strings that held a pouch around her waist. With a frightened yelp and scream, the young boy disappeared into the crowd and was gone. Glyndrel’s eyes flared and yelled out, just about to run after him when Alexyius grabbed an arm.

“Don’t bother, he will be long gone now and that purse palmed off to numerous others, you will never find it or recover her money”. Alexyius was matter of fact about it and seemed resigned. Glyndrel still fumed about the injustice of it all.

“City life I guess, my friend” Alexyius added attempting to allay Glyndrels temper. “Come on, let’s get inside before we are next”.

Alexyius let go of Glyndrel’s arm and entered the inn, Glyndrel still feeling outraged.

The Dusty Cutlass was a modest looking establishment on the inside, and got its namesake from the Cutlass relic mounted above the bar which was never cleaned and thereby covered in grime, soot, and of course, dust.

The innkeeper was a portly fellow with rosy cheeks and beard. Recognition in his eyes upon seeing Alexyius, got a hearty handshake.

“Aly me lad! Haven’t seen you in years! Look at ye now! How’s your Uncle?”

“Passed away I’m afraid my good, urh, Trent wasn’t it? Yeah, he had a nasty run in with a pack of Kobolds” Alexyius lamented, a sorrowful look passing over his face.

“Kobolds? Really? That’s not how I pictured him going out!” What can I get for you and your friend?”

“Uh, we need a room, two separate beds, and two ales, we’ve travelled a long way” asked Alexyius.

“Aye, I have a room that would suit, and the ales are on me, as a parting gift for your Uncle”.

“Thank ye, we really appreciate it” Alexyius replied.

“Yeah, uh, thankyou, very kind of you”, Glyndrel stammered, still overwhelmed by the city and now from some child stealing to a generous innkeeper, Glyndrel just wanted to curl up and sleep.

“Find a seat, I will bring out your Ale, and Grace here will see to your things and make up the room for you”.

‘Thankyou again, you have always been most generous with my family, Trent.” Alexyius shook his hand again.
The two sat down and looked about while waiting for their drinks. The inn was busy, as it was around midday and everyone was having their midday meal. The ale was brought out in short order and while bitter, was cool and refreshing. Glyndrel almost downed his in a single gulp.

“Woah, easy there, I don’t want to have to carry you upstairs!” Alexyius exclaimed.

Glyndrel returned him with a watery look and loud belch.

“That was good, for s-sure” Glyndrel slurred.

“Don’t drink much, do you? No more for you then!” Alexyius drank, but not nearly so fast.

“After this, let’s get some rest before evening, and then we can ask around about Slyphania”.

Glyndrel yawned and laid his head down on the table “Good idea, I’m sick of travelling”.

When Alexyius finished his ale, the two slowly ascended to their room, which was discovered to be neat and clean, fresh sheets, a bath with hot rocks and steaming water, with clean towels and their belongings neatly stacked in a corner.

Glyndrel made a bee-line to the first bed, and without undressing, collapsed on top of it.

He was asleep before his head even touched the pillow.

TO BE CONTINUED

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful story from enderandrew, entitled

The Green Rogue Volume I
Told by Joorus the Scribe

Background music “Fossil Evidence”, by Smartsound

Joseph had a bad feeling about this. He had argued for years that water was safer than land, especially in Norgard where armies of Kobolds eagerly awaited foolish merchants who left the safe confines of Estgard and entered the craggy, wooded roads leading into Valhold. Yet, that is precisely what he was doing at the moment. He preferred to take skiffs up the Oso river as he never saw Kobolds building boats. Some called them crafty and far more intelligent than their monstrous demeanor might suggest, but Joseph always argued that if Kobolds had any wits about them, they’d be on skiffs as well.

That was before Kobold archers and mages sank his last skiff from the river banks. Even though there are few places to hide along the mostly flat river banks, he was complacent and ambushed. Since he lost his entire shipment on that trip (and was lucky to survive) his partners insisted they take the quicker route on land this time. The weight of their parcel would have made a small skiff impractical as well. They were bringing a new anvil to Valhold. Amazingly enough, they had spent so many years constantly crafting new arms for Norgard troops and their neverending war with the Kobolds that they had actually worn through the old anvil. Joseph hadn’t thought that possible, but he also didn’t think it was possible for Kobolds to make him look a fool.

That neverending war also had the King’s attention focused to the northeast, across the Thrones of Skrekk. This road was constantly traveled, but rarely maintained. The uneven roads and weight meant that even with this direct route, they traveled slower than Joseph would have liked. But he wasn’t about to push their horses and end up having to re-shoe one on the road while they sat still and helpless. He kept telling himself that so long as they kept a steady pace and his armed guards flanked him, they’d make it to Valhold safely. But that nagging feeling just wouldn’t go away.

Just then a figure dropped down from above, landing right next to Joseph in the front of the stagecoach. Before Joseph could react, the masked bandit had a blade to his throat. His guards started to pull their weapons, but Joseph could feel the blade biting into his flesh ever so slightly.

“Stop!” he yelled. The guards hesitated as more bandits emerged from the trees and circled the stagecoach.

“Your guards will get off their horses and throw their blades to the side. We will take your horses and this coach. After we ride off, your guards can reclaim their blades in case you run into Kobolds. We’re thieves, but not monsters.”

Though he could feel a trickle of blood at his throat, Joseph regained his composure. “I thought I was afraid, but you’re a coward, dropping from trees and stealing from honest merchants!”

The bandit pushed the blade in even closer. “Do not make me regret letting you live. I am no coward and I will kill anyone who swears otherwise. Perhaps you haven’t heard of the famous Green Rogue. I have the courage to challenge Lords and Kings alike, even a Titan! While King Granus keeps us in a neverending war, who will stop him? He cannot continue his attack on the Kobolds and protect his people at the same time. That is why he does not really have people. You are vassals, blind servants to a King who would lead you to your death!”

The bandit eased up on the blade and urged Joseph to step down from the coach. As he rode off with his stolen goods, he shouted one last thought. “Tell the Lords of Norgard what happened! Tell them how their authority is questioned and how their people suffer because of them!”