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"KEEP MOVING," Captain Roth shouted to his soldiers, "WE DO NOT STOP UNTIL THE MOUNT."

Captain Roth led his soldiers down the relatively narrow cobblestone path towards the Mount.  The path was flanked on both sides by an old forest, while there was still some life in their branches there was more dead growth than new.   While the leaves that did dot the canopy above started to show the first color of the autumn season, it was, by in large, a dead section.  This dead section would stretch for the last leg of their journey, and this made Captain Roth nervous.  His eyes darted from side to side, scanning the tree's and the canopy itself for signs of a thief.  There had been a few attempts made by various groups already on their treasure, and he did not want to lose his prize this close to home.  He did not want to lose his prize this close to fame.

"HURRY, HURRY, WE'RE ALMOST THERE."

Captain Roth had reason to worry more.  This was the perfect spot for an ambush.  The trees could be felled, stoping their advance, the branches could be dropped, crushing his soldiers, and the narrow path meant they could get blocked in easily.  While his cavalry could maneuver still, the carriage couldn't.  Captain Roth shifted his eyes back to the carriage.  It was a metal monstrosity of locks, chains, and chained-up locks.  It would take thirteen keys to fully unlock the door, and another one to get to their stolen goods.  He knew that if an ambush were to happen, it would take longer for a would be thief to open the door and get the artifact than it would for reinforcements to arrive.  He knew that he had completed his mission, but a single thought still lingered.

What if the thief was good?

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An eerie calm falls over Orban and his traveling crew despite the sight of bodies littering the roadside and strewn across the village around them.  These corpses were in a fight, they all wore some facet of armor and a litany of weapons littered the area around them.  Their blood painted the road, the houses, and even the grass and it was evident that they did not die without a fight.  Yet, despite the chaos and despite this bloodshed, there was one thing missing that Orban could easily tell.  The villagers.  The only bodies were the soldiers, and there were footsteps in the blood-stained mud that suggest that whoever once called this place home was led away from it towards the nearby forest.  What’s more, there are several canine tracks unlike anything seen before in the mortal realm.  These footprints were big, bigger than any dog or wolf and even bigger than some of the monsters that Orban would have faced.

There is also something off about the air.  It is as if something powerful lingers within it.  Some unspoken word, some unseen threat, or some unknown presence.  If they look carefully they may even see an eye peeking at them from the windows, from the forest, and every direction and yet there is nothing there.

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A most peculiar sight awaits Taiji.  As he travels down the road a small caravan of wealthy-looking, but upset, businessmen will begin to pass them.  They are dressed in fine linen, and carry expensive-looking crates and chests however they struggle to take each step.  It is as if none of these people have actually worked a day in their lives, and this little effort of labor is too challenging for them.  They all have the same look of sadness mixed with anger in their eyes, and Taiji may hear a few curses whispered under their breath at their misfortune.

“You, you look like you are up for a challenge,” one of the men shouted as she walked up to Tiji.  He was tall, fat, and looked like he was used to commanding an aura of respect.  He wore no jewelry however the tan lines on his finger suggest that he typically does.  His eyes carried a look of contentment.

“What if I could promise you riches beyond measure,” he asked Tiji, “the name is Kaito, and I run the village of Hurrin,” he paused as he sighed with anger, “or should I say ran.  A musical demon entered our village last week, and he has fought and killed his way through our militia until he forced us out.  We called him,” he paused as he shifted his eyes from side-to-side, “the singing demon, the maestro of our misfortune.  Will you help us?”

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“GET AWAY FROM MY MOTHER,” a young boy screams as he charges towards Bren.

He is young, maybe seven or so years of age.  He has a small dagger in his hand but it looks like it might as well be a sword.  He has small cuts and scrapes across his face but is otherwise okay.  Behind him, a younger girl is holding onto his clothes.  Fear is present in both their eyes, a fear that is directed to the sight of Bren.  

“I WILL STAB YOU, MONSTER,” the boy will scream again but as he continues his charge he will trip over a branch that had suddenly blown in with the wind, falling to the ground and sending the knife sliding across the pavement towards Bren.  The boy is not hurt, at least badly, but he still screams.  The boy scoots backward, trying to now put distance between Bren and himself, but also keep himself in between Bren and his family.  Bren would notice that there is a woman in the ditch on the side of the road who is hurt badly.  She has been attacked by a sword and a long laceration is seen across her chest.  Her eyes flicker open, but they don’t stay open for long and she drifts back to sleep.

The family sits on the side of the road at a crossroads.  The post has three signs on it.  The first points towards a nearby village.  Smoke fills the air coming from that direction and Bren would smell the blood that was spilled there.  The second points towards a nearby city called Goldrun.  It was a larger city, and they would have healers and possible help for the young family.  The third pointed towards another village, and Bren may notice a familiar track in the mud heading towards it.  A gnoll footprint.  

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“So, you must be why I am waiting here,” a well-dressed man whispered from behind Eve and his group.

From seemingly nowhere this well-dressed man appeared and began to walk towards the fated one.  He was well dressed, with an expensive robe that was covered in fine trims and details that would make even the vainest nobleman blush.  Despite the robe being closed the trio could easily tell that the man was strong.  The longer they looked at the well-dressed man, the more a sense of unease would fall over them.  There was something off, something wrong, with the person walking towards them.  And if sight alone was not enough, the air began to carry with it the faint hint of sulfur.

“I was told that I could expect someone of great power to face the coming darkness on this road, but even I could not have guessed that would be the Citadel’s first love,” a slight grin fell across the face of the well-dressed man as he sized up Eve’s traveling companions, “don’t worry, I don’t [i]bite[/i],” his voice a mix of sultry and sweet, “I am here to join up on your merry escapade,” he paused as he leaned in, “on your fated quest.”

The well-dressed man’s smile only grew larger, warmer, and more inviting.  His eyes seemed kind, gentle, and compassionate.  

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“Wait,” a single voice cut across a sea of bodies.

“Wait, don’t,” the man coughed and blood followed, “don’t go you must help them.”

All around Iveus was death.  A battle was had recently, and it was a battle that this human patrol lost.  A hundred bodies dotted the landscape, all in some different state of destruction.  Some were cleaved in two, some were thrown into the rocky landscape breaking their bodies, and others found a merciful death with a stab through the heart.  However, there was no sign of whomever or whatever attacked them.  The only bodies that dotted the landscape were this human faction, and they died fighting something other than themselves.

“I feel myself fading,” the man whispered.  He had a look in his eye, a determined look.  “I don’t know what it was but it cut through us, it was humming some twisted song as it swung…” The man gasped for air for a brief second, “it’s heading towards the village of Koi, it’s heading..” the man leaned his head back as a few more pained breathes filled the air.  “It’s heading…” his voice grew weak.  “It’s…” He grew silent as his chest ceased movement, and his head slumped to the side.  

Iveus would notice that the air hung heavy with a strange energy.  It was not magic, but it held a power he never felt before.  Whatever cut through these soldiers was strong, and it was heading towards a village that would not be able to protect itself.