The Story Begins...
There's the slow rustle of brush as Tychus and your band march through the Belgo Steppe's tall grass. The sun is slowly starting to rise overhead. A fraction of your personal weariness flees, motivated by the sight of that bright, yellow light in the sky. In the distance, you can see wild horses graze, gnawing at the grass, while craggy outcrops in the landscape dominate the background. You've been traveling towards the crags for the past few hours in relative silence, only speaking when necessary lest you draw attention to yourself.
"We're almost there, lads." the husky and raspy voice of the elderly Tychus rings out.
The sun reveals the man in more detail than you'd seen previously. He stands at an average height with long, white hair and a bushy mustache. His eyes are a dark brown, and there's a certain crookedness to his nose. From the many scars decorating his face, you can tell he's seen plenty of action in his prime. Moreover, he's armed to the teeth. He carries a longsword in his calloused hands, a rapier at his side, and two long knives holstered on his back underneath his long, leather trench coat. He was definitely prepared for the worst.
Your not sure where this old man is taking you, but he's the only chance you have to get to freedom. He mentioned earlier that he would enlighten you once the group had reached his "safe haven". What this means to you, you have no idea. About a half a mile away from the outcrops, Tychus holds up a hand, stopping the group.
"Do you smell that?" he asks, suddenly taking audible whiffs of the air. To those of an ordinary sense of smell, there was only the sweet scent of lilacs and honeysuckle wafting through the air. To those with a more keen sense, there was a tinge of sulfur intermingling in the air. A growl emits from the old man and his dark eyes shift to the west.
"Shit. We've got company." he mutters. He beckons you to start jogging.
A quarter mile left, you can make out the rocky landscape that lays before you. It's mostly barren with the exception of the occasional shrub. Before you can make it closer though, an intense smell of sulfur permeates the air and a guttural tone echoes out.
"In the name of the Grand Marquess, drop your weapons and surrender!" To your left, a giant of man stands a few hundred feet away in a great suit of ebony armor. In his hands, he carries a gigantic mallet. You're left bewildered as to how you missed this man approaching.
"They sent these guys?! ...Shit!" Tychus swears loudly, readying his longsword. Apparently, he had not expected whoever these people were to be here. As soon as he says this, a gorgeous, white haired woman slinks out from the grass to your right. In one hand she holds an elegantly shaped blade, while the other grips a similarly ornate spear. She wears a white dress with little armor decorating her form.
"Of course. Did you think they would have sent rookies to defeat the legendary Shadow Reaver? Especially after what you did back at the prison camp? Tch. They're offering a million sovereigns for your head. Each one of them is worth an extra hundred thousand." the woman calls out, ice in her tone as she slowly approaches the group. It's evident these two are bounty hunters come to collect you or execute you.
"All of you, run towards the crags. These two are way above your skill right now. You'll find a passageway in there that will take you to where you'll find answers. I'll hold these guys off... Just don't die." Tychus orders you, frustration tinging his voice. At once, he charges the woman, sword pounding against her spear. As though conjured by magic, 4 exact duplicates of the old sword master rise from the shadows. 3 rush toward the overtly large knight, while the last one starts swinging wildly at the woman. Knowing you are no use right now, it's best you do what he asked.
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