https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhIhSAG2wd0

Quest Objective

- Reach the Mountain Stronghold of Stonefold

Side Quest Added

- Azkan

***

Without the caravans to slow down your progress, you quickly head back out on the road, or so to speak since there weren’t any roads out in the wastes besides a few guideposts that let you know where you were going.

With the scorching suns above and desert winds keeping your throat nice and parched, you wish again that you’d thought to steal a few skins of water from the tight-fisted gnome before he left. Still, it shouldn’t be long now, before you reached the Open Plains, then perhaps your luck would finally change.

Head bowed low to keep the suns from burning off your face, you trudge through the desert sand, your feet temporarily cooled beneath the mounds of shifting soil, before being pulled back out again to continue in the blistering sunlight, your back soaked with sweat, and shirt glued to your body as you sight the gorge ahead and the bridge that would get you across into the Open Plains.

Named the Bridge of Thorbadon, it was a massive pale grey structure that spanned an immense chasm that leads directly into the lush green grasslands of the Open Plains; home of the centaurs.

Elegant, and carved with dancing elves along the length of it, the bridge was an impressive sight to behold with four wings sprouting outward from its four corners like a triumphant procession for returning heroes. The land between cut in two with rolling green plains, hills, and slopes on one side and a desert wasteland of craggy rocks, stone monoliths, and sand that got into every crevice of your body. No matter how many times you tried to remove it.

While not as dangerous as the wastes of the Red Lands, you still would have preferred to travel on with the protection of the caravans. At least then with the basilisks in tow, you wouldn’t need to worry about any creatures that stalked the night.

Still, you had managed alright on your own for a while now, and all that was left was to find a way through the Open plains without being noticed, a difficult task seeing as there was nothing to hide behind.

Head cocked to the side as you take in peculiar sight of the desert and grassland sitting side by side, you are reminded of the time when the Fae’lon had once flourished as a growing empire, the history books telling tales of the many battles fought here between the elves and migrating centaurs who’d been searching for a new homeland for their people. Their centuries-long struggle ending here in a land that was practically built for them. The wide grasslands covering much of the north allowing them to hunt, move freely, and be on their own away from the rest of the world and its problems.

Surprised and a little relieved to see no centaurs guarding the bridge, you cautiously start your way across, when the instincts that you had honed after so many years of battle kicked into gear as you take in the sight of the abandoned trading outpost on the other side of the bridge. The usually busy camp one of the few places where traders could set up their tents for the day and trade with the nomadic tribes that roamed past.

Blade drawn from the sheath at your side, you tread through the campsite, seeing for the first time the hundreds of hoofprints that had come through this place recently, but that in itself was not so bizarre. It was the uneaten food that hung from the cooking pots and dangled over the still-burning fires, and the haphazard way the tents were taken down that worried you. All of it suggested the merchants had been spooked by something and had tried to take flight. Except you could see no footprints leading away from the camp, and most of their supplies and equipment were undamaged, abandoned here suggesting there had been no fight at all. There was also no blood to speak of, and as far as you could tell nothing had been stolen, which could mean any number of things.

Belly rumbling with hunger at the smell of roasting meat by the fire, you push aside your worries for now and move towards the campfire, your mouth inwardly salivating at the smell rising from the pot, before searching to either side of you for something to eat the thick meaty stew, then giving up and scooping the still warm soup into your palm and stuffing it into your mouth. The savory meat almost making you groan with delight as you gorge yourself on the stuff. (+ 40 Health Points.)

Sweet Lightbearer above, you would kill to eat something like this again, but you supposed there would have to be enough time later for it. Right now, you needed to figure out what happened here? Or to be more exact, you needed to grab anything that wasn’t tied down and could be easily carried, before getting the hell away from here. And who knows you might even get a chance to grab a few more bites to eat before you leave.

Shoulders straightening at the pleasant thought, you move towards one of the knocked over tents to begin your search there when you catch the awful stench of rotting flesh, horse shit, and sweat wafting across the breeze. The all too familiar scent reminding you of your time in the army. Dark times when you had to fight for every scrap of food, battle monsters twice your size, and watch friends die in fights they should never have been in. All of it for the glory of some Kingdom that never existed. For a king that was never really king. And for blind deluded fools who saw themselves as the next Lightbearer reborn, fated to reconquer the world.

Certain you did not wish to be found scavenging through an abandoned camp, you take one last look around for anything you can carry with you, and continue westward towards the distant suns that dipped low on the horizon. The green majestic plains running for thousands of miles, while puffy white clouds scudded across the eerily deep blue sky. Your feet eating up the ground easily, while your eyes kept a lookout for the centaurs you knew to be lurking about. Friendly or otherwise, centaurs did not treat strangers kindly.

However, with darkness fast approaching, you are eventually forced to a halt for the night. With no way to see where you were going, there was a high chance you would get yourself lost, no matter how straight a path you walked.

Lying down on a patch of grass that looked semi-comfortable, you close your eyes to try and get some sleep, only to be flooded by distant memories that you had long since forgotten. The battles you had fought always the same. Peasants refusing to pay the new king’s land tax was usually followed by an endless bloody slaughter. Each life you’d taken staring at you shocked surprise as you cut out their hearts, each death another stain on your soul.

You can’t recall how many lives you had laid claim to in your lifetime, all you could recall were the looks of horror on the faces of the new levees brought in from the countryside as each night you returned covered head to toe in blood from another day of scouting the so-called enemy. While behind your back they named you the Savage as a mark of pride and fear, but that was not always so for you. You thought you remembered a time when you had not always been this way, but each time you groped for that memory, you felt and saw nothing. It was like your mind had been scrambled, but only enough so that you could at least know what you were a killer and nothing more.

Eyes closed tightly shut, you lay there awake almost half the night, and when morning finally comes for you, you feel just as tired as though you had never slept at all. The edge of darkness gradually faded back by the suns rays that flooded the clouds in a rich orange hue, the plains coming alive with plenty of game that raced across the grasslands. The herds of wingdarts that rode past, a blur of black flesh, and dark manes that trailed behind them. The mellow-hearts that flew overhead, a colorful rainbow of colors as they dipped their wings below the clouds.

Rubbing tired eyes gritted by dust, you continue traveling west towards the mountains, when in the distance you spot a fast-moving group of horsemen riding up hard fast upon you.

With nowhere to run or hide, you grit your teeth in a snarl at having managed to get yourself into another predicament and draw your blade, the feeling of the steel sword in your hand enough to give you some small measure of comfort as out of the dust emerged fifteen fully armored centaurs in bright steel plate armor, wielding their infamous centaurn bows. Their gazes resting upon you with a dangerous glint in their eyes as the horsemen surround you from all sides. Their bows nocked and aimed towards your chest.

The leader of the centaurs a broad-shouldered warrior with long fine black hair and a face cut from pounded steel, spoke first, "This is no place for you stranger! What are you doing in our land?! Are you a spy, working for the necromancer?! Answer me?!" But before you could even think to reply, one of the centaurs came up from behind to land a powerful blow to the back of your skull. The blackness taking you quickly as did the nightmares that came with it.

***

Awoken several hours later in a drab white tent to the sounds of arrows thunking into targets, you hear the all too familiar noise of snicking blades and warriors bawling their lungs out. One whiff of the noxious stench enough for you to know you were inside a warcamp of some sort. It was also the same time you realized you were not alone in the tent.

Seated at a round oak table waiting for you to get your bearings was a well-dressed female elf with short blonde curly hair, light blue eyes and a gentle easy smile. The white fur cloak she wore around her shoulders, and delicate features, accentuating a remarkably beautiful face. "Welcome back to the land of the living, I apologize for my friend Soren, he can perhaps take his sense of duty far too seriously sometimes. My name is Sylven, and before you ask, I know who you are, you, in truth I know more about you than you yourself do I think. But perhaps that is best left for another time. What is most important right now, is that I need your help. These people here need your help,” she said waving her arms around her, “A mage named going by the name of Azkan, a former member of the guardians has taken up residence in a tower not too far from here. If he is not removed swiftly he could prove a threat to the entire plains.”

“And why should that matter to an elf?” you snort in derision, “I thought your kind, liked to hide away on your precious island.”

Eyes narrowing imperceptibly, Sylven shoots you a tight-lipped smile. “He is as much my problem as he is theirs. The guardians have sent me to deal with the rogue mage, but I fear in my current state that I will be no match for him. You, however, might be.”

Nostrils flared in amusement at that, you cannot dispute her claim. As far back as you could remember it had always been you that was sent into the dark to do the bloody deeds that needed doing, always your blade that ended lives, always your life that was put at risk. Always you had to deal with the sleepless nights. You had become a tool, the weapon fate liked to use, and you served your purpose well, one way or another. And perhaps, for now, that is all you needed to be.

Nodding your head impatiently for her to continue, the elf, touched her fur cloak lightly as though sensing your growing agitation, and spoke quickly, “The situation here, however, is a bit delicate with the centaurs seeing the mage’s tower as an affront to the ancestors as are the undead beings that inhabit the tower’s walls. I fear soon they will try something reckless unless we put an end to it swiftly. Horselord Orkrelan in his haste has already declared you a spy for the necromancer and will surely execute you unless you prove yourself otherwise."

“A spy?” you reply with a laugh.

Sylven smiled again and shrugged her shoulders. “I did not say it was his wisest decision, but perhaps your appearance here could do some good for us. You may not realize it yet, but you in some ways connected to both the light and the darkness, which means you can act where others cannot,” she held up a slender hand, "There is a way out for you, and a way to prove your innocence. I have within me the ability to transport you into the tower where you can slay the dark mage. I also have within me the ability to teleport you away from here, if that is what you desire? However, I do hope you will stay and help."

Choice 1. Do you agree to slay the Dark mage in return for your freedom?

Choice 2. Do you agree to slay the Dark mage in return for your freedom, but inwardly plan to betray the Centaurs and join the Dark mage for maybe a taste of power?

Choice 3. Do you try and plead your case before the Horselord Orkrelan who already believes you to be guilty of being a spy for Azkan?

Choice 4. Do you kill the Elf sorceress and try to escape the Centaurn war camp without her aid?

Choice 5. Or do you ask her to teleport you far away from the fighting?