Merric tied down the last line, cinching the tarp tightly with his right hand. This had taken longer than it otherwise would have, but what could be done when working with only one arm? The winds had been furious the last few days he had been on the road, constantly disturbing and loosening the line securing his "stock", and frightening Holly, his ever-loyal donkey.     He had fled the Central Kingdoms, Whiteton specifically. He had ran a small arcane supply store, but after several bad seasons, his debts were called in, which he could not pay. So, he liquidated everything as fast as he could, loaded all he owned into a small two-wheeled rickshaw, and promptly left without a word.      Merric had set off to the east, where he heard a war was brewing, and war meant soldiers , and soldiers needed to buy things . His grand plan was to peddle enough items, at wildly inflated prices, to hopefully start again. Another shop, somewhere. He had zero ...

      The rain pounded down thick and sharp, like the volley of an enemy force. Lady Matilda Bathurst of Selburne rode atop her armored steed, which moved at the head of the marching column. Her forces were supposed to have set out for the Dunbari camp over a fortnight ago, and she wore her displeasure openly upon her face.     This was hardly her first time leading her forces, and had in fact done so many times in war, but this time felt different. For most of her life she had led soldiers in the civil war that had consumed her family lands, fighting her own kin and countrymen for years, and always effectively, efficiently. This, however, was the first time she led her army on behalf of another realm, and the managing of logistics and supply proved hectic and sprawling.     And, now, here they were; travelling well past the end of travelling season, laden with supplies. There had already been minor battles with the Anlari, and many skirmishes beside t...

      The two Anlari soldiers ran through the dark brush, too scared to look back. Guided only by what scattered moonlight made its fraught journey through the canopy. One acted as support for the other, who bled blackened ooze from a fetid wound, a gaping hole in his mail and tabard.     Only what seemed like moments before, their entire squad of comrades were patrolling for soldiers from the ever-approaching Dunbar host, which their liege had been fighting. Suddenly, in a blur of frightening speed, a tower of steel, a warrior in fearsome steel armor, and clad in a red and green surcoat. The had immediately shouted at the figure to identify themselves, when a curious thing happened. A small blue light came from beneath the great helm of the Red & Green Warrior, and then a much brighter blue light came from the bush just off to their side. Spectral hounds then leapt into the squad, their spears and swords striking more air than mark. The jaws ...

      "You're all that's left?" Aqil al-Azazil asked incredulously. The night before, a encampment of mercenaries was before him, but when he emerged from his caravan, all but the scrawny man before him had gone. The Ragged Hounds, the mercenaries in question, were ones he had bought before he left his home far to the east. They were to be his way of restoring his fortune, but now instead, they have only added to his loss by desertion.     Aqil cleared his throat, and addressed the young man in front of him; young, of dark hair, but sunken eyes of someone much, much older.  "I commend you on your loyalty and dedication to your employer, good sir! Surely this speaks much to your integrity of your character" Aqil said in a commanding voice, fit for stage. "Mister, I don't know what those words mean. The old boss just said that you were the boss now" the younger man said. Aqil's eye twitched. "Good sir, may I ask your name?" he asked...