[center][h3][i]Chapter 1[/i][/h3][/center][hr][center][h3]Value[/h3][/center][hr][hr]

Combat guilds were the most popular guilds for a reason. Even before the collapse of the monarchies, children the world over would often dream of becoming the strongest or most courageous warriors their respective kingdoms had to offer. Knighthood was among the most sought after positions and there was never a shortage of willing applicants who wished to hand over their lives in service to their lord and country. After The Catastrophe created a new world order, mercenaries not only exponentially increased in their numbers, but also began a slow ascension towards the top of the pay scale. With the introduction of creatures and beings not of humanity's world, the lone warriors finally shed the shadow of glorified bounty hunters and stepped into the light illuminating the world's most important soldiers of fortune. They began to demand higher payment from fearful clients who would give anything to be rid of the supernatural intruders and, for a time, mercenaries enjoyed even greater fortune and revere than the knights who used to routinely shame them. Eventually, however, greed took its rightful place on the throne of the mercenary's ambition. 

The hired men and women fighters turned on one another and began slaying any potential threat to their individual income streams. It seemed like contracts were being ignored in order for one merc to slay another thereby making themselves that much more marketable. False legends were built on piles of bodies and the ravenous new breed of hellish foes were left free to wreak havoc across what was now known as Pratus, decimating villages, devastating cities, and slaughtering any who dared to try and travel without a proper escort. It took time, but as the families of the selfish warriors were slain, there were those who snapped back to reality and remembered why they had taken up the blade to begin with. Those individuals sought other like-minded allies to aid them in their battles against the more aggressive beasts and while small, roaming bands were nothing new to the world, these new groups looked to create formal relationships with emerging local governments. In short, guilds were born. And simultaneously, so were their tales. 

Stories were passed around often from bards to tavern owners to smithy's and they all told of the fantastic spectacle to behold if one were lucky enough to witness a combat guild in action. The synergy the guild members shared, the coordination of their offensives and movements, and the flawless execution of their unified plans became almost mythical. Combat guilds had become the most organized, well trained, and well respected guilds in all of Pratus. 

Black Lily, a guild infamous for being totally comprised of criminals and misfits, was none of those things. 

The beating of hooves into the dirt road was a fierce and intense sort of sound. Plumes of dust burst into the air as manic horses furiously pulled several carriages along a path towards an unknown destination. The treeline on either side of the beaten road stood far in the distance which made sense because this particular path was one of the safer travel routes merchants often used to transport their goods. The Wildlands were dangerous pockets of uncivilized areas prone to supernatural entities wandering around and going about their own schedules doing whatever it was they did when they weren't killing people and animals. At this moment though, the most dangerous things on the road were the six, masked horse riders chasing the manic carriages along the merchant's route. 

While most of the carts were filled with businessmen, traders, and merchants who were scared out of their minds, one that previously only held boxed cargo was quickly being filled with common looking men. Gabriel spurred his steed to increase speed and quickly adjusted the maroon fabric he wore over the lower half of his face. "What in god's name are they thinking of doing... They're not just going to dump the cargo, are they?!" He wondered aloud. The common looking men begun to pull small orbs from their pockets and bags and as one defiantly glared into Gabriel's face, the masked mercenary instinctively drew his horse to the side. The orb flew from the carriage and exploded upon landing where Gabriel had just been, sending the masked man's horse into panic. "Fucking hell!" He shouted, quickly regaining control of his courser. 

He looked around at the others who had successfully surrounded the speeding caravan from the back and sides and watched the same orbs fly in their directions. Small explosions popped off one after the other as the other guild members dodged the magical bombs and quickly regained their positions as well. "No one said one [i]fucking[/i] thing about magicians!" Gabriel shouted in genuine anger. He spurred his horse again to keep up the pace, but he stayed to the rear of the caravan as he was meant to be. The plan called for Gabriel and Darian to the rear, Giselle and Amara to the left side, and Willard and Covell to the right. It was supposed to be an easy take with only a small escort to deal with. The situation had become much more dire. 

"We need to get those damned boxes," Gabriel shouted out to the group, "Screw the plan! Now we've got magicians creating magical cannon-fire! This day's gone to hell!"