Regis waved goodbye to the strange old man before turning towards the dusty stairs and pushed the hard to miss red brick on his left. The stone slab that covered the entrance moved aside, allowing him to grab hold of it through the gap. Once pulled, the stone gave way to the bleak sunshine that came through the clouds to blind him for a moment. When he could finally see again, a dirt covered alleyway greeted him with broken crates and filth everywhere. Two and three storey houses were built closely together, forming an almost continuous wall on both sides of the alley. Most of them were built using timber frames with wattle and daub walls, but plenty of stone buildings showed themselves as well among them. The young dark elf pushed the stone slab back into what seemed to be the back wall of a three storey stone house and he noticed an inconspicuous reddish brick on the wall that slowly moved outwards as he closed the hidden door. Once the door closed completely and the brick slid back to its place, it looked like an ordinary wall that fit in well with the rest of the alley. He made a mental note of the location of the door and the brick as he walked out of the faeces dotted backstreet.

The sight of the lively and bustling port-city he hoped to see was nowhere to be found. Instead, ragged tents and crowds of refugees awaited him. Most of the tall stone buildings on the sides of the cobblestone road had their windows boarded up, with the produce related shops having an ‘out of stock’ sign nailed on their frames. As he trudged onwards on the narrow streets with his bladestaff in hand, the sound of crying and wailing could be heard from all directions. Guards of different banners patrolled the streets, most of them wearing patchwork armour with bronze weapons. Dark circles hung under their eyes as they dragged their tired bodies onward.

When Regis arrived to what seemed to be the market square, he could only see movement at the many rundown smithies and armourers. The rest of the hawkers sold garbage and cheap food of questionable origin. At other times, a lone dark elf youth would have roused attention, but now he melded into the haggard crowd. As the sun slowly moved lower towards the mountains far from the city, the people were getting louder in their wailing.

“Mommy,” he heard a little girl’s voice. “Will the monsters eat us?”

“No sweetheart,” A thin woman hugged the crying child. “The guardsmen are strong. They will chase them away. Just try to sleep.”

Similar conversations could be heard all over the market and they only grew darker in tone over time. He watched as families huddled together under whatever they called roof as men and women watched the guards come and go. Some of them had a light in their eyes as they watched them, but most of them cast their gazes down once the bronze and leather armoured soldiers walked away.

By the time the young man was about to ask someone for directions, the sound of commotion could be heard from the east side of the market place near the city gate. A group of soldiers marched towards the crowd of the market. Their leader was a robust figure with scars resembling claw marks on his jaw. He kept his eyes on the crowd while a black haired youth dressed in baroque styled bright velvet shirt followed him with servants in tow.

“Listen up folks,” the robust soldier spoke after stepping on a crate. “After last night’s events, the city lord decided to take up on his council’s suggestion. Starting to...”

“That’s quite enough captain,” the fair skinned youth with the velvet shirt said. “My father and the council agreed that it would be foolish to risk our soldiers every night, with so many of you refugees here. You’ve been wasting Hunor’s precious reserves without giving anything in return. From now on, it’s up to you to defend yourselves. This leads to...”

“You can’t do this,” the refugees cried out as one. “You want to throw us out to feed those monsters?”

“No one will be thrown out,” the guard captain stated. “With that being said; the guards need reinforcements. For that, we need volunteers. Any man or woman who’s capable of fighting can join. Shardwakers are in favour, since they can be of greater use. Know that whatever you gain from the fight will be yours to keep. Those who defeat a larger number of enemies will earn themselves more food and better quarters. The ones who prove capable can even earn themselves a skill crystal or a spell stone. I can’t force you to make the choice, but without reinforcements, we won’t be able to hold out until the end of the week. That’s all I have to say. If you want to join, head to one of the gates. All right soldiers, move out!”

While the guardsmen turned to march away, Regis’ vision blurred as golden words flickered into existence in front of his eyes.

{The guardsmen of Hunor asked the refugees for reinforcements to protect the city. The people are scared and night is fast approaching. If you volunteer to join the guards, you’ll have to fight outside the city walls the whole night. Rewards can be claimed at dawn. Any Amaranth, crystals and items gained during sentry duty can be kept. The guards are at their place, waiting for you to make your choice.}

“Finally,” he heard a voice from the crowd. “The first public mission is here.”

“I’ve been trying to get a quest, but all these NPC’s can talk about is their lost home.” Another one said as several men and women wearing rags similar to Regis’ starting attire walked towards the gates.

Hearing the conversation of the two, he knew for sure that they were outlanders like him. The only difference was that these people likely didn’t get to fight yet, or didn’t get things explained to them properly. They thought that they were in a game or something. ‘Idiots.’ He shook his head. They were in for a rude awakening. The young man began to walk toward the western gate, still thinking about whether he should join the defence team for the night ahead. When he finally reached the gates, a long line of people stood in front of a table. Most of the volunteers had at least some equipment and their way of talking made him think that it wasn’t their first battle. They could have been mercenaries, but there were refugees among the group as well.

“What do you mean we won’t get any weapons for the guard duty quest?” A lanky man asked.

“How do you expect us to fight? Bare handed?”

“The armoury is already stretched thin as it is,” a soldier answered. “We can’t hand out the spares for people who don’t even know how to use them."

“We have a few of the damaged ones that can still be used, along with a couple of cudgels,” another one joined in. “They can have those. It wouldn’t really matter if those got lost or broken.”

“Fine,” the warrior wearing full bronze plated gambeson agreed. “Hand them out and get these folks in line.”

The volunteering proceeded at a snail’s pace as the sunlight dimmed on the sky.

“Excuse me,” Regis walked up to a guard. “I have my gear ready, so can I just add my name to the list and move on?”

“Just write it up over there,” the soldier turned around. “Hold on a second! Aren’t you too young to volunteer?”

The guard took off its helmet, revealing a motherly face encircled by light mud coloured hair. She looked at him with her eyes moving up and down to examine the youth.

“I’m 19 already.” He answered, but it only earned him a head shake.

“For you elves, that only makes you a fledgling. You still haven’t even grown up properly. Fighting the undead is dangerous even for us. Just go back to your family, kid.”

“I don’t have anyone here.” he gritted his teeth. “Besides; you need all the help you can get anyway, especially with all these stubborn outlanders suddenly showing up.”

“Sorry for scratching your scars,” the woman apologized. “You are right though. We really do need all the help we can get. I don’t know why these outlanders showed up now, but so far, they only caused trouble. Most of them will surely die by the end of the night. What about you, kid? Do you have any experience with that spear? There will be a lot of fallen ones coming tonight. Got any skills, maybe a spell or two?”

“It’s a bladestaff and I did kill a couple of giant rats before with it. I also have a couple of initiate rank spells, but I don’t have any combat skills, yet.”

“Fine,” she said while biting the corner of her lips. “Once the sun goes down, get to the left side of the line. My group will be there. Just stick close and everything will be fine.”

“Thank you...”

“Norma. My name is Norma.”

“I’m Regis,” the youth nodded slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“All right, kid. Scratch your name on the scroll and get going.” The woman patted his shoulder, pushing him forward.

He barely took a step forward when golden words burned through the air in front of his eyes

{You have made use of your charisma and gained the sympathy of Hunor’s city guards. You have earned the ‘Little Charmer’ feat and your allure got permanently increased by 1.}

‘I swear this Heart thing is screwing with me!’ He cursed on the inside as he stepped next to the table and grabbed a piece of coal to write his name on the rough parchment. His hands moved slow as the coal drew several symbols on the scroll. Looking at the markings that didn’t look anything like the usual English words, he could read them just as fluently. After shaking his head at the realization of having a foreign language imprinted in his mind, he joined the group of ragged people that headed through the gate.

Once outside, the crowd scattered into smaller groups that took different positions in front of the dark wooden ramparts that formed the first line of defence in front of the city wall. Archers and crossbowmen took up positions on top of the two and a half meter tall wooden constructions, placing arrow filled buckets beside their legs. Regis even noticed a few guards that had real, if primitive muskets. While heading to the left, he walked by several mercenaries and refugees.

“Things must be really desperate if they let you dark elf vermin loose.” One of the mercenaries said before spitting on the ground before him.

“There’s no way I'm turning my back towards filth like these.” Another one added to it as the others nodded.

He didn’t stop to talk with them but headed to the far left, noticing the familiar guard with her fellows. When he got close enough, she nodded at him before returning to her duties. Soon, several torches and braziers were lit along the ramparts and about thirty yards from them. Finding a safe spot, he hid his knapsack at the foot of the fortification. The area around them slowly turned darker as the last rays of sunlight vanished beyond the distant mountain. As the sunlight faded, so did the light of the crystal atop of his staff under his will.

Darkness fell on the empty field in front of the ramparts with a thick fog stopping at the edge of it. It was a peculiar sight how the fog hit an invisible wall in the distance, preventing it from reaching closer to the defenders. Soon, the sound of growls and clattering noises came from the darkness, but the fog was too thick as it rolled along the battlefield’s edge beyond the light of the torches. Regis thought that he would see farther than others thanks to his darkvision, but the unnatural darkness in front of him didn’t let him peer further than fifteen or so meters beyond the torch light’s edge.

“Get ready!” The guards yelled as they climbed on the hastily made wooden ramparts.

The hair on the elven youth’s neck and back stood up as he watched the slowly moving figures ahead. With his low-light vision, he could clearly see the shambling soldiers and animals heading toward them, a faint greenish flame burning in their eyes.