Jonah jumped off the carriage as Porfiria shouted out her warning. His sword sang as it was ripped out of its sheath, the longsword gripped with both hands as he took up a defensive posture at the barricade made up of the caravan’s carriages.

He and his adventuring party, a four-man band named fool’s gold, had signed up along with two other adventuring groups as guards for the caravan’s journey from the small trade city of Vulden towards the capital, Veta.

The sun had only set about an hour or so before and they had parked the caravan on the side of the road for the night. Then the call to arms came and the adventurers jumped into action. A large pack of trollings had attacked. These creatures reached up to the rips of a grown man, with longer forearms and upper arms than a human should have.

Thick and extremely rough skin with a texture of bark or rocks and reminded many people of dried out wastelands and their cracked earth. Their jutting jaws were filled with disorderly teeth, with three to four tusks. Small peering eyes above a tiny nose above a very high middle face left their faces to seem to have a natural peering sneer as an expression.

They ranged in colours from blue, dark green and orange as they reached out towards the defenders with their thick four-fingered hands. Each of the fat fingers ending in a very sharp and thick black or brown fingernail that either ended in a claw-like point or looking like a broken slate of stone.

Jonah gasped as he saw the little horde swarm towards them, an arrow piercing one of those in the lead causing them to tumble end over end before standing back up.

“They’re tough!” Porfiria shouted as she fired another arrow into the eye of one of the trolling’s who only howled and broke the arrow in its socket before continuing its charge.

Jonah swung his sword with both hands in a batting motion and managed to cleave the head off one of the front runners. A bellow of such strength almost knocked him back as he saw a brute of a trolling running through the throng of smaller trolling’s. The thing had a slate-like horn coming out of the right side of its head and towered over the other trolling’s.

Jonah knew that Trollings were a rank 1 creatures but that brute trolling was a trolling warrior or hulk, a rank 2 or 3 at best. Despite their low classification in ranking, they were strong enough to be capable of holding their own in a one on one fight with an armed man. Their body was close to the strength of a rank 2 creature but their low intelligence held them back from that distinction. They just had to hope none in this pack had managed to reach rank 4 and become fully-fledged trolls.

Jonah watched as a mage from one of the other adventuring groups aimed a spell at the brute trolling as it charged. A green misty fog began to whirl around the brute’s head as it charged, causing it to go blind and wildly charging along the side of one of the carriages and breaking the wheels before half stumbling into another and flipping it over as splinters flew up into the air from the impact.

Before the brute could stand back up a silvery armoured paladin came charging in with a spear and shield and skewered the brute’s head right through.

“Hold the line!” The paladin bellowed as he pulled the spear out of the brute’s skull. “Civilians to the inner circle! Archers on top of the northern carriages! They are coming from the north! I need one scout at the southern part to look out for others coming at our flanks!” He continued to bark orders and got the defenders organized as the trollings came fully as a wave crashing against the adventurers who tried desperately to defend their charges from the monsters.

Jonah continued to swing with all his might at the oncoming savages. His sword slick with their orange blood as he desperately fought. He looked up towards Porfiria and watched in awe as she took out the last three arrows in her quiver and let them loose, hitting three targets in the head before jumping off with her long knives bared.

Next to him came Atash, a dark-skinned man from the dessert beyond Veta. He struck out with a rapier and a scimitar. His strange dance-like movements allowing him to thrust with the rapier and slash away with the scimitar. His favoured trick came into play as one trolling came at him with a primitive stone axe and he used his rapier to stab in between the creature's fingers and pushed the axe out of its hands.

Then as he took a step back allowing the trolling to swipe with its hand as it aimed at his neck with empty air. Only to then get its head sliced off with the scimitar as he stepped back in. A smile upon his lips, he loved that trick and had even named it the deserts trick.

Jonah smiled as the dark-skinned man smiled at him with an almost lopsided grin. Despite everything Atash sure loved combat, it seemed to be the only time the usually blank-faced and monotoned voiced man was happy and seemed alive.

A cry snapped Jonah’s head to the side and he watched in horror as another brute trolling came rising out of the tide of trollings and punched Porfiria with an uppercut. He continued to watch as she went flying into and through the burning carriage. “NO!!” He screamed as he was about to charge back to her but his fury got the better of him and he took a sharp turn and rammed his blade into the brute’s throat. The brute snapped its hand at his side and he felt something break as he was sent flying back into the upturned carriage and simply sat there dazed as he watched the brute take two steps. It faltered.

Then another two steps and it pulled the blade out of its neck before collapsing to its knees and falling forwards. Dead.

Jonah slowly tried to get up but wheezed as he felt a lung had collapsed along with what he thought were fractured ribs. A Priestess came running to him and began to let her holy light bathe him, easing his pain and aches.

“Hold the line!” The paladin shouted once more as he slammed his shield down to the ground and sent a shock wave that staggered the trollings. He then whipped out with his spear and cut the throats of two of the creatures before he pulled it back to a ready position once more.

Jonah knew it was hopeless, even if there had only been those two brutes in the horde before them the odds were still heavily against them. It was then as he swept his gaze over the battlefield that he noticed it. Two pinpricks of blue light coming at the backline of trollings.

Jonah felt dread well up within him as the lights grew closer before he saw the outline of a figure. A horse with a rider on top of it came charging in, a longsword held in its grasp as the horse ploughed into the horde. The horse was strong and kicked, bucked and stomped on several before making its way out of the horde and began to run around and harassing the trollings.

The figure, on the other hand, had jumped off the horse and was swinging wildly with its sword. Even going so far as to flip its sword in the air and gripping the blade only to bring the pointed tip of the guard crashing down into the skull of one of the trollings.

The figure wielded its sword like a mace one moment and as a sweeping sword the next. It was savage yet graceful as if the figure was figuring out a way to use its style of swordsmanship in combat.

Jonah could hardly believe his eyes as the figure cut down the trollings like wheat before the scythe with the help of the others. The others capitalizing on the distraction the figure had caused by its charging arrival. However, Jonah could swear that if not for the light from the burning carriage the figure could be wreathed in ethereal blue flames and shadow.

With the thought of the burning carriage, he looked towards it and then at the priestess, pleading with her with his eyes. She saw where he had looked and then lowered her head, shaking it gently. Jonah’s heart sank into his abdomen and felt tears well up in his eyes.

By the time he had been healed enough to stand and help out a little, there were only six adventurers left, him included. The figure standing in the middle of the field of dead trollings not even out of breath. He had to marvel at it. He was simply a level twelve apprentice swordsman, the figure had to be a swordsman of level five at the least.

“Thank Aona for your graceful help stranger.” The paladin said as he removed his helmet and walked over to the figure. Jonah could have sworn the figure stiffened ever so slightly when addressed. “I am Ser Richard, neophyte paladin of the holy order of justice and I thank you for the aid you have given us.” The paladin continued and gave a grateful nod to the figure who turned to look at the paladin.

The air suddenly grew a little tense as the figures hood only held what seemed to be a crawling void of shadow with just the barest hint of eyes within. Then as if letting out a sigh the figure shrugged its shoulders and walked towards the paladin with its hand outstretched in greeting.

The paladin seemed to let out a sigh of relief and walked up to shake the figure's hand. “What might I call you, kind-” He didn’t get much farther as his head was lopped off, almost cleanly. The figure charging forth and picking the spear with one hand only to throw it almost clumsily at the fire mage as he clumsily began to cast, interrupting him for long enough that the figure could reach out with a hand and a bolt of shadow hit the mage in the chest. All air left the man’s lungs and he almost collapsed down to his knees.

The sudden screams behind them caused many of the adventurers to look back at a pack of bone-white wolves that had snuck up from behind. The wolves were tearing into the merchants and their entourages, efficiently and systematically killing them without stopping to eat as normal wolves would. Another cry caused the adventurers to look back at the figure as it snapped its fingers and then charged at the priestess.

A man dressed in robes wielding a bo staff came in between the figure and the priestess. “You’ll go no further fiend!” He screamed before the figure held him down with its sword. The man grunted as the figure brought its sword hard down unto his staff with one hand. Then the figure seemed to recoil before pointing the sword at the monk and pulled at the air with the other hand.

The monk cried out in surprise as he was suddenly pulled through the air to be impaled on the sword. Then taking the staff and whipping it over the monk’s head to the priestess.

The woman cried out and fell over as the staff hit her head as she had turned to try and run away. Atash came through and stood before the figure and held out his weapons at the figure. No the creature. The creature cocked its head to the side at seeing Atash and his weaponry choice. Then as if going at Atash as if to hack him in two from head to groin the creature struck.

Jonah watched with wide eyes as Atash moved in and pulled off his dessert trick. The rapier moving in between the creature's fingers and causing the sword to slip from its grasp. Only when Atash stepped back to let the figure slash at his neck with empty air he suddenly stiffened.

The creature taking a few steps back after the slashing motion of its hand. “Interesting.” It suddenly let out. Jonah couldn’t believe it, the voice from the creature was almost a deep yet smooth bass-baritone.

Then Atash fell down to his knees and dropped his weapons, clutching at his throat. “It was an effective method. Just won’t work on me.” The man who had just attacked them without provocation said as he turned up his hands and claws sprouted from his fingers, almost the size of knives.

Then the man turned and pulled out a short sword and hurled it at the priestess who had gotten up and was attempting to heal Atash. She let out a yelp of pain as the blade managed to sink into her chest. Jonah began to yell out in outrage as he charged at the man with his longsword in both hands. As he swung down with all his might the figure disappeared right before he struck him. “Wha?!” He exclaimed before he felt the claws plunge into his back.

As he fell to his knees he heard another scream and in the haze that began to grow over his mind, Jonah looked to his side. He saw the fire mage scream as the skeletons of two of the trollings pulling him towards themselves and then they ripped into him, devouring him alive. A cold sweat ran down Jonah’s spine. This was a necromancer! And judging by how he moved and dispatched them all with such ease a rather powerful one.

Darkness began to grow at the corners of Jonah’s vision as he fell back onto the ground, blood spurting from his mouth as he coughed. He felt the warmth spread over his back as the sticky phlegm from his spittle and lung fluids leaked down the side of his mouth.

The man stood before him staring off somewhere. “Oh? I levelled up! Excellent.” He said as he seemed to be going over his own status.

‘What is this man? Why did he do all this?’ Jonah thought bitterly as he felt the tears well up even more and leak down the sides of his face as he simply stared up at the man.

“Oh? This is interesting, you're still alive?” The man suddenly said and Jonah could hear the mad grin in his voice. “Then I think I can do a little experiment since I just got a new and interesting skill.” He said as he let one claw grow out from his index finger and squatted down next to Jonah.

“This won’t hurt a bit.” He almost seemed to sing before he began to whistle an eerie song and pushed his claw down into Jonah’s chest, he felt the claw scrape against his sternum.

A cold feeling ran like lightning through Jonah’s body as he writhed in sheer and utter agony, his mouth open in a silent scream. The man simply continued to whistle his eerie tune while doing whatever he was doing to Jonah.

When it finally stopped Jonah lay there panting heavily while coughing up blood every so often. “Hm, doesn’t seem to have worked.” The man said before he looked towards the Paladin’s headless corpse. “Might as well.” He said and walked over to the paladin, taking the man’s head and putting it back on as if he was trying to finish a puzzle.

Then the corpse began to jerk and writhe before suddenly it jolted upwards, the skin leaking off the paladin’s head like muddy water. Revealing the skeleton underneath, then after another long moment, the eye sockets began to glow with an eerie blue light.

Jonah’s horror mounted as he began to wonder what had been done to him before the skeleton looked right at him. Then his world turned dark, the last he heard was the man shouting merrily. “Garmur put that femur down, I need to try and raise that one!” Jonah could only hope that he’d either wake up after this nightmare or that his body wouldn’t be defiled.

Leonardo Barwell sat comfortably on his seat in the plush carriage. A cup of tea in his hand and a report in his other. The report was of the efficiency of guards compared to adventurers for merchant caravans around the empire. Leonardo was a tall man, built like a bodybuilder or some strong man hero of legend despite being in the later years of his forties. His short-cropped hair was a salt and pepper type shade with the same for his short trimmed beard. He wore the gentlemanly attire of a noble, a dark blue suit with a deep blue tie, embossed with the emblem of his house.

An armour-plated horse rearing up within a diamond shape, the emblem of the Barwell noble house. The guarded horse of the empire, in charge of the safety of the empire's roads.

“Master Barwell?” The voice snapped the elderly man to look up. The man opposite him was a red-haired young man, his build a little more athletic compared to the brute build of Leonardo. “I asked if you’ve heard anything of Deepguard?” The young man asked with curiosity shining in his violet eyes.

“Hm? Oh yes, that little experiment to see if we could tame the deepwoods for the empire.” Leonardo said with a smile. “I’m sorry Andrew I haven’t heard much since they aren’t due to a report until tomorrow.” He replied before finishing his cup of tea and then putting the report away.

“Tell me, Andrew, how has your training been going?” Leonardo then asked curiously while holding a gentle affection in his eyes.

“Well I’m almost beyond the squire state and I’ve begun to learn a bit of spell work as well. I think I’ll be able to join the mystic knights in a years time if I manage my current growth.” Andrew said a little sheepishly to his godfather.

“I was told I just needed to raise my levels and to work on my skills. Of course, my father isn’t easy to get to allow me to level up.” He then said a little bitterly afterwards at the reminder.

Leonardo softly laughed a grandfatherly laugh before placing his large meaty hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “Your father is simply worried about you. After all your older brother Robert is in the knighthood while your brother Alexander is in the mages order. All three of his eldest sons have chosen a dangerous path. Your younger brother and sisters seem to be going the same way as well.” Leonardo said before laughing a little at the put upon look on Andrew’s expression.

Andrew’s cheeks coloured a little crimson and he almost puffed out his cheeks, a childhood quirk he was trying to break. “Do not mock me, Leonardo.” He grumbled a little as if he was back to being a ten-year-old petulant child instead of the twenty-year-old young man sitting in the carriage with Leonardo.

“You are an honest sort Alexander, you wear your heart upon your sleeve as they say.” Leonardo said with a fatherly smile as he patted the young man’s shoulder. “I fear you aren’t fit for the predations of Alocian politics. You should keep to your goal of reaching knighthood in the mystic knight order. I feel your honourable personality will fit much better within that order than anything else.” Leonardo said as he gently patted Andrew’s shoulder before leaning back into his seat.

Andrew was silent for a while as he sat there, digesting Leonardo’s words to him. “I guess.” He then said as he looked out the window of the carriage at the tree line of the deepwoods in the distance. “I think I’m just worried for Elliot.” He then said almost in a whisper.

Leonardo could understand the boy’s worry but before he could try to cheer the young man up or at least take his mind off his worries a loud shout from outside was heard. The carriage stopped and the door opened on the other side where Alexander was looking out from.

A fully armoured soldier stood outside and saluted the two men. “My lords you have to see this.” He said and the pale face of the man caused Leonardo to grow worried.

Grabbing his cane from the side of his seat he moved out with Alexander on his heels. Both stopped and stared at the scene before them. A smouldering wreck of a caravan was ahead of them on the road. A murder of crows and vultures flying above with a few scavengers going through the corpses. Leonardo gripped his cane tightly as a knot began to form in the pit of his stomach.

“W-what happened?” Alexander asked with apparent unease upon his face as they made their way to the scene.

Trolling corpses were strewn about with all the people of the caravan having been pulled into a large charnel pit with the broken and smouldering wrecks arrayed in a circle around the pit. As if trying to protect the corpses in the pit in the circles middle. Several trolling corpses were in the pit with the others strewn around the strange scene of slaughter.

“This… This was staged.” Leonardo said as he noticed the almost logical placement of the corpses outside the circle as if trying to make a symbol but giving up halfway through it. Leonardo was horrified, beyond words at the type of individual that could have done something like this.

“Sir!” The same soldier who had notified them before called out. He was pointing at claw marks on one of the carriages. “There are claw marks on almost all the carriages and some of the corpses too.” He said as he showed everything to Leonardo and Alexander.

“It’s like they were attacked by a pack of beasts after they had beaten off the trolling attack.” Alexander said with horrified awe as he looked over the area.

“A werewolf perhaps?” One of the soldiers asked as he was moving around the carriages, no one having had the courage to go into or near the encircled pit.

“It would have had to be a rather large pack to not leave any trace of them after something like this.” Leonardo said as he began to move along towards the pit. “This is almost like the people had been driven into the pit.” He muttered to himself as he looked them over.

Broken bones, ripped off limbs and half-eaten corpses were everywhere. No bone unbloodied, nor corpse seemed to be whole. Then as he accidentally stepped onto the stomach of one of the trolling corpses a fume of foul air burst from the creature. Leonardo held his hand over his nose and mouth but he heard someone puke behind him.

Turning he saw Alexander hurling to the side of the scene. Leonardo’s heart broke for the young man, this wasn’t something someone of his few years should experience. Though it would be a learning experience for him so Leonardo could only hope this would strengthen Alexander.

They continued to go around the encircled carriage wrecks and picked a little through the corpses. “Adventurers my lord.” A soldier called out as he came up to Leonardo holding a medallion used by the adventurers guild, or at least one of them.

“Hmm the guild named Forge hearts? Most likely the place this one got his license I know there are at least six different guilds in Veta, must be one of them.” Leonardo said as he clutched the medallion hard in his grasp.

“Sir!” Another soldier shouted as he pointed back at their own caravan as a woman walked towards them.

Leonardo bit into his inner cheek so as not to show anything on the outside. ‘That damn woman.’ He cursed in his mind before walking toward the woman. “Lady Isolda. I recommend you go back to your carriage. This is not a sight for one such as you.” He said respectfully, though almost tersely.

“It is lady Osweald, Count Barwell.” Isolda replied just as tersely before she gathered her mana into her hand. “I will cast a search spell over this scene.” She said and then let out a pulse over the entire area.

Leonardo groaned inwardly, though Isolda was a high ranking mage he just didn’t like the woman. Not one bit. Her haughty attitude and insistence on being formal at all times while acting almost aloof half the time irritated him.

Isolda suddenly jerked and her eyes widened in surprise. “That can’t be...” She breathed with utter shock and surprise. Her gaze turning towards the charnel pit in the middle. “Hurry!” She then suddenly shouted and began to run towards the pit.

“What is going on?!” Alexander asked worriedly as he began to run after the woman.

“There’s a survivor!” She shouted back which shocked Leonardo. A survivor of this horrific scene? Impossible, there is no way a meticulous scene like this would leave a survivor of such a deed. Whoever or whatever that had caused this must have made the mistake of leaving this survivor behind or perhaps the survivor was so close to death as to appear as dead?

Shaking his head Leonardo dashed past Isolda and stopped at the edge of the pit. “Where?!” He shouted back at Isolda who skidded to a halt next to him and began to scan over the pit.

With a sharp point of her finger, Leonardo jumped into action to find the survivor within the pile. He pulled corpses clearly dead to the side and kept going until reaching halfway to the bottom were a pale-faced youth lay. Stab wounds over his body and blood matting his blond hair almost a dirty black or brown.

“Get the stretcher! We have a survivor!” Leonardo shouted out before looking down at the youth and leaning in as he saw the survivor’s eyes flicker slightly. “Boy, can you hear me? What or who did this?” He asked frantically as he gently pulled the youth from the bloody pit.

Alexander waded into the pit, ignoring the blood, guts and bile that had built up, holding a canteen of water. “Here.” He said gently as he poured the clean water down the youth’s throat who stuttered and coughed up some fresh and clotted blood before he looked up at Leonardo.

“We aren’t ready.” The youth muttered out in a raspy voice before falling unconscious once more.

Sometime later when they had put the survivor into a carriage and had a healer look him over. Isolda, Leonardo and Alexander stood watching the giant bonfire they had made of the pit and surrounding corpses. “This wasn’t natural.” Alexander said spitting at the fire and looking at it with utter distaste.

“I saw this caravan leave ahead of us.” Isolda suddenly said. She had been silent since she had pointed out the survivor. “They were two or maybe one and a half day ahead of us. Whoever or whatever did this is long gone by now.” She said, her voice sounding almost hollow with the grief of this disaster.

“Whatever it is, I’ll hunt it down.” Alexander said, his fists clenched hard and shaking with a need for justice for such a horrific crime. There had been women and children in that pit and he felt horrible for not being able to give them better funerals.

“We need to warn the guards and adventurers along this route as well as any other that would make sense if this was the work of some creature or pack thereof.” Leonardo said, his voice steel and emotionless as he watched the flames.

They waited until the flames had died down before they all mounted up and made all haste towards Veta. Their hearts heavy with sadness and hardened by the horror they had witnessed.

If they had been able to see the scene from above the placement of the corpses would have made even less sense. Though to almost all beings in this world, it would be so. The corpses had been placed in a line, spelling “I’m back” out in the Fuþark runes.

This entire scene was only a simple message for no mortal in this world. Yet the one who this message was for didn’t see it, their eyes focused much farther to the west.