Rigsby Dale a village consisting of layered stone roads and 1-2 story brick houses ranging in the colours of green blue and yellow, normally a light lively village with grass growing on the edges of the streets and otherwise plenty of trees and bushes within the village, this peaceful village was closed up, the small walls surrounding the small village had received make-shift fences on top, and there were guards constantly watching, they weren’t scouting, there was no need to scout the enemy was right below them endlessly smashing their carcasses against the walls, skeletons and zombies, so far there hadn’t been anything too bad, yet the villagers couldn’t safely leave the village either. The initial death rate had been quite high, but the soldiers and adventures had acted quickly and sealed up the villages, fortifying the walls, and although there hadn’t been any ghosts yet, they had laid out a small layer of salt following the inner outline of the village.

Fear was evident in the villagers eyes as they sat in groups around bonfires, none wished to seek the comfort of their homes, for who knew what lurked in within!

‘Fools, fools, all of them!’ he thought lightly as he walked between the villagers and adventurers ‘soon you’ll be no more, you should’ve left, haha, fools, fools all of them’ he thought as he bowed down and patted a small girl’s head comforting her, telling her that everything would be okay.

. . . .

Thadeus, Edra, the small horse and the shepherd dog soon came across the first undead, it was obviously lost, and even dumber than your regular skeleton; it simply wavered back and forth on the road. Before anyone could do anything it attacked viciously! The clouds passed by the sun sending rays of light down upon the earth, one ray illuminated the horrifying scene that was the skeleton, its mangled bones and stench of death was in full view and smell of the group.

However before the skeleton could do anything the shepherd dog had grabbed its thigh bone, making it lose its balance. The dog wrestled with the bone trying to get it loose, it was hungry, it hadn’t eaten for almost two days, who knew that a walking meal would appear in front of it.

The rest of the group watched the rabid dog speechlessly.

Thadeus finally closed his gaping mouth and then opened it again “Under normal circumstances the dog would’a been minced meat fighting against such a weak skeleton, which means that the skeleton was summoned and not naturally occurring” he moved his hand to his hand towards his lightly bearded jaw “what in god’s name is a necromancer doing assaulting a small village in the middle of nowhere?” His pupils dilated slightly as he began thinking deeper about it.

At Thadeus words Edra’s mood sank, a necromancer? Was that was he was… the Master? As his rage and depression sank in, so did it for everyone else, except Thadeus who had almost recovered fully and therefore wasn’t very affected by the low level of Edra.

“Calm down will ye!” Thadeus reprimanded as he noticed Edra’s mood changing “I don’t know what’s bothering ye lad, but there ain’t nothing to do about it right here right now!” The hobbit’s voice shook lightly in the surrounding space, his powerful mana spreading out as his emotions ran high.

Edra slowly calmed down, and when the shepherd dog finally defeated its foe he too had defeated his foe that was his fluctuating mood, at least for now. Soon the four were on their way again, this time the shepherd dog had a big thighbone hanging loosely in its mouth.

As nightfall fell the group approached Rigsby Dale, step by step they made it closer, and the closer they got the more skeletons appeared. Initially Thadeus would dispatch of them quickly, but soon enough under a grove of trees, in the bleak of darkness the group found themselves surrounded by several strong looking skeleton warriors and a couple of zombies. They were clearly more aware and intelligent than the previous skeletons as they had waited patiently for backup before approaching and circling the group.

“I’d be darned!” Thadeus cursed “I’m not wasting one of me stored up spells her’e!” He looked at Edra with a wild look “Can’t ye talk to them, undead to undead ye know?!” In the glimmer of his flickering staff his eyes shimmered dangerously, despite of his complaining his adrenaline was running amok, he didn’t earn the class Wild Sorcerer for nothing.

Edra looked stunned, and then he sort’a floated over towards the zombie that appeared to be the leader “eh, can we kind’a just pass through?” he said from a short distance, and for a moment the zombie stopped grunting, it gave him a strange sort of look, and then it threw a rock at deafening speed towards Edra, the rock however sailed right through him and smashed into a skeleton on the other side, blowing it to smithereens “Eh, it’s not working!” Edra said depressed while floating back to the group, his depression instantly spread towards everyone around him, the skeletons seemed to slow down, but the zombies appeared largely unaffected.

“Well ain’t that useful!” Thadeus exclaimed as he hurled a ball of fire at the lead zombie “Here we go!” he yelled madly as he prepared another fireball.

All hell broke loose the moment the fireball hit the zombie. The skeletons brandished their make-shift weapons and charged in, the stone throwing zombie was still fazed, as Thadues kept barraging him with fireballs.

A spear pierced through Edra, he felt the pain of the rusty iron, barely, but it was still there, he watched a few percent of his health drop in his status screen. That wasn’t too bad he thought, but that feeling only lasted for a short while more, when suddenly another spear appeared, and a skeleton started hacking at him, although it was terrible weapons, of terrible quality mixed iron, it quickly cut his health down by 15% and it kept dropping, for some reason the undead were targeting Edra.

Meanwhile Thadeus had defeated the first leader zombie, and was actively dodging and firing at the second one that wielded no weapon except its big sturdy arms, the zombie wasn’t overly slow, but it was clunky in its movements, allowing Thadeus who didn’t have a physical class to dodge and shoot at it, but it appeared to have a significantly higher constitution than the previous leader zombie.

Thadeus was sweating as he observed his small horse and the Shepherd dog put up a brave and successful fight against two skeletons, kicking and biting in mad frenzies, their adrenaline overriding the now fearful emotions that Edra released, however the dead did not have adrenaline, and the low level skeletons clearly slowed down and began hesitating in their movements. Under normal circumstances a skeleton wouldn’t be affected by emotions, but Edra’s passive functioned as a condition, and therefore the usually fearless skeletons reacted to him.

Edra’s health dropped rapidly, he was afterall only a level 1, if not for his abnormal health pool he would’ve passed already, his fear of death began to change to unadulterated rage! He finally snapped out of his fear and depression and slowly floated upwards, his ghostly form flickering, his face turned ugly as he turned his mouth downward and released a deafening scream on the onslaught of skeletons below, shortly followed by his death breath, although it did little damage to the skeletons, it still slowed them down even more in their confusion. Then he activated his ectoplasm renewal making the air conform as strange mystic blood-red streams broke through the fabric of space and flowed into him, then he turned towards the zombie battling Thadeus, and he released his emotive emittance on it, its effect negligible, but still enough to confuse the zombie for a split second. To finish off he released his field of sorrow, significantly affecting the skeletons around him. Soon they began fighting each other, as a last effort he began moving the dirt around, just within his 5kg limit to make confuse the skeletons even more.

It was the first time that Edra had actually fought since his transformation, yet it all came natural in his rage-fueled mood. His eyes shone a bright blood red under the moonlit sky, as he stared down at the carnage he caused.

. . . .

Inside the village of Rigsby Dale a sense of restlessness had begun to spread, for some reason the local militia had yet to arrive, and as they waited, their food supply grew less and less.

“Pete!” an elderly man with a slightly tattered blue coat yelled hoarsely, his whisky beard trembling at the sound of his own voice.

Up on one of the palisades a sandy-haired hobbit boy, barely a man, turned his head in embarrassment as the other people standing guard began chuckling lightly, with a red face he answered with a voice that was still breaking in “Grandpa, what is it now?!” he demanded, which only made the chuckling increase.

“Your sister needs you!” the old man harrumphed as he turned around and went in the direction of the city square, ignoring the remaining questions coming from Pete.

After failing to get more out of the old man, Pete turned to one of the sentries next to him with a pleading look “Sir I…”

The middle aged man whom Pete was looking at was one of the local adventurers, he wasn’t a hobbit, but a human, he was well liked and trusted in the village as he spend a large amount of time within Rigsby Dale solving their problems “go to your sister Pete, you need not stay here any longer, take a day or two off, your sister has been needing more and more help lately” The man walked over and clapped Pete emphatically on the back “go now boy, next I see you, you best be well rested!”.

Pete nodded and thanked the man, his graciousness evident, as he hurried down the palisade and into the small town.

Pete jogged lightly through the small streets, politely helloing people on the way. Living had never been easy for Pete and his sister Alice, their parents had passed away in a mugwartworm attack a number of years ago, and since then they had had to stay with their mother’s estranged father, he had taken good care of them, but his personality had always been eccentric and secretive. As Pete jogged through the familiar streets and passageways he remembered his first day in Rigsby Dale with his sister.

They had arrived in a small cart pulled by a small black goat, their grandpa driving the cart. Although Rigsby Dale was a small village, they had lived their lives at a farm in the countryside, for them the town had first appeared large and intimidating, noisy and boisterous, that first evening of slowly driving through the town, where the shadows had fell on every nook and cranny had initially scared the children witless.

They didn’t know their grandpa’s name, the villagers used to call him old man, after Pete and Alice moved in they called him old man Pete, which Pete had initially found very annoying, however his sister found it very amusing. It hadn’t taken long for them to settle down in their small house, with a shared bedroom, their grandpa was harsh in some ways, he insisted on schooling them every morning, and he insisted that they went into town to find professions that suited them and become apprentices at those locations, the workload had been a bit much as at first as they weren’t used to working, but they adapted quickly, his sister had become an apprentice at a local pharmacy, and Pete himself had jumped from apprentice spot to apprentice spot until the undead waves, where he had sought apprenticeship with the guards, he was a little too young under normal circumstances, but these were anything but normal circumstances.

Pete arrived at a small farming field that was fenced in with faded yet delicate blue coloured oak, he saw his sister fighting off a bunch of large crows with a rake while she was trying to harvest different herbs, albeit the process appeared very unsuccessful from what Pete could see.

. . . .

“LaGerfield!” An elderly hobbit with a stump leg, but otherwise robust body yelled aggressively as he passed through the village gate, he was covered in dirt and grime, his face grim as if cut from granite, his imperial moustache vibrating vigorously from his anger.

A nervous looking fat human turned his head away from his compatriots towards the hobbit that was moving towards him like a raging storm. When he turned his head back he realised that the group had dispersed, and before he could react he felt the world turn upside down, and then everything went blank.

. . . .

Pete was sitting inside the pharmacy drinking a hot brew of herbal tea, he was quietly watching his sister assist a young looking hobbit woman, she wore beige hemp shorts and her feet were bare, and aside from that she wore a sleeveless hemp shirt, her hair was tied up with a red ribbon, and she was slowly stirring and adding ingredients into a large pot, its aroma filled the small store, and the heat increased significantly over time, everyone in the store were sweating and glistening. Alice likewise wore a similar hemp outfit as she was cutting and prepping the ingredients.

A certain tranquil ambiance permeated the store as the young girl and the woman worked in unison and harmony, Pete simply sat there enjoying his tea. However soon the door was kicked off its hinges as an elderly hobbit with an imperial moustache came barging in loudly.

“How dare you sell dud products Imara! You wench!” the elderly hobbit was raging as he barged into the room, drawing a crude axe from his back and soon he splintered the table that Pete was sitting at into several pieces from one cut.

His actions and words all happened in a split second; nobody really had time to react until the man had broken the table into pieces.

“SovnsField!! You old fool!!” Imara the pharmacist turned around swiftly and pointed her palm forward, and then she was gone from her position, her palm now holding onto SonvsField’s head releasing some sort of energy, and then the man was blown out of the building, Imara walked out of the pharmacy in a regular pace, as if she was going to the market, her voice however was anything but regular as she spoke dangerously “You were a reckless fool then, and you are a reckless fool now” her pace stopped a few feet away from the hobbit who was slowly getting up, while rubbing his head that now had a large red mark of a palm on it, he was just about to speak up when he was interrupted “fool or no fool” Imara spoke resolutely, her voice building in tone, as it culminated in her final sentence “NOBODY BARGES INTO MY STORE!” her voice activating some sort of skill as the hobbit was blown into the opposite building, cracks spreading from the location that he had catapulted into.

The on-looking hobbits and humans had stepped far away, but close enough that they could still observe what was happening between the two. Some of them had a facial expression that seemed to say ‘not again’ as they quickly left the location, not interested in seeing the same old same old.

This time the old hobbit got onto his feet without any interruptions, his imperial moustache in a mess as he angrily glared at the woman in front of him, for a moment he was about to explode, but he quickly thought differently as he for once carefully weighed his words “Wen… Imara, I was on the battlefield today, and I had four potions that were duds, and LaGerfield told me that he bought them from you, what are you if not a wench, when you sell dud products, eh?” he spoke loudly so that everyone could hear, the surrounding crowd were soon murmuring, it was a taboo to sell dud potions, as it could mean the difference between life and death in the heat of battle.

A dangerous glint passed Imara’s eyes as she heard what the old hobbit said “Have you gone dement with old age?! How long have you reluctantly bought my potions? How many of them have been duds?” her voice equally loud, the people watching turning silent as her gaze passed them by.

Sovnfield opened his mouth to respond, but then he closed it again, this process occurred a number of times before a single sentence escaped his lips almost inaudibly “never…” his face slushing slightly from the embarrassment.

“LOUDER!” Imara said, with a stare that could cut granite and shit bricks.

“NEVER!” the old hobbit yelled “You’ve never sold me duds, you happy you wench!” Sovnfield picked up his axe and sheathed it on his back as he began leaving.

“Where might you be going, old friend?” Imara asked calmly with a smile.

Sovnfield shuddered when he saw her smile, he had been thrown around by her the moment he barged into her store, but this was the first time that he felt afraid of her, he had seen that smile before, and last time he hadn’t heeded the danger that lurked behind it.

“I was going to fix your store of course…” he responded dispiritedly, to the crowd’s amusement, they soon began laughing and left the scene after that.

. . . .

“Duds!?” LaGerfield said bewildered while he was standing in a small alleyway, night had fallen so it was very dark, he was speaking with cloaked figure who had the height of either a tall hobbit, or a small man, this was LaGerfield’s real supplier “you sold me duds, this is not good for business!” he continued, and then rubbed his now casted arm “nor me…” he finished in a low tone.

“Didn’t I tell you that there might be duds in the shipment? Didn’t I warn you of this before we went into partnership? Didn’t you happily accept anyway as my price was unbeatable?” The voice was hoarse and old sounding, yet LaGerfield dared not draw any assumptions about the man.

He spoke the truth, he had been warned that there might be some duds, but that overall the potions were effective, but he had always assumed that the people using the duds would die in the process, so that no word would come of it, who could’ve known that Sovnfield was so resilient! “I covered for you!” LaGerfield responded desperately, in an attempt to justify him calling the meeting, aside from his own cowardice.

The cloaked man laughed eerily and calmly “who cares!” he responded leisurely “my employer don’t fear no trifling hobbit” he hissed “now be-gone, you can pick up the next shipment the same place as usual” and then the cloaked man disappeared in a dust cloud, leaving the nervous and baffled LaGerfield desperate and alone in the alleyway.

. . . .

Back in the pharmacy an awkward dinner was taking place, the two siblings were seated across from each other, and next to each one of them sat Imara and Sovnsfield respectively glaring at each other while they ate their soup. Pete had been very surprised to see Imara’s prowess, he had always thought her to be a regular young woman, but now based on the conversation between Sovnsfield and her earlier, he could now assume that she was older than he had initially thought, but by how much? And who was she to wield such strength? He had seen Sovnfield from the palisades, he was quite famous around town as a strong local, but he realised that he didn’t know much about the man himself.

“Alright Imara I fixed up your door and table, and I paid reparations for the wall damage, which I’ll remind you, you caused” he harrumphed moodily before taking another sip of his soup.

“I caused? I caused? How can I have caused the damage to the building when it was your body imprint that was on the wall?” she asked innocently.

Pete almost choked on his soup when he heard her, his sister dropped her spoon and Sovnfield’s granite-like face showed a rare moment of emotion, pure flabbergast “you’re more thick-skinned than me” he said while shaking his head still surprised.

Imara simply smiled at this and finished her soup in a large gulp while holding the small wooden bowl, she was still wearing her hemp clothes that smelled of herbs, her oat-coloured hair was still tied up, and there were herbal splatters on her face, however Sovnfield found her as enchanting as ever, he always had since they were children and played together in wheat fields of Rigsby Dale, his mind wandered as he remembered their parting when she had left to become a pharmacist, and how they had shared their first kiss back then, and he still remembered that when she came back twenty years later, he was angry and sad that she still looked to be in her thirties, and that he had grown old from battle and worry. She had wanted to see if maybe they could still go together, but their personalities had grown too stubborn in their old age, their emotional scars had grown too deep, and their differences had grown too big, the result had been a growing resentment. However Sovnfield always bought his potions from Imara, and Imara always made her requests to Sovnfield directly, and once in a while they’d get into a spat. Sovnfield blinked his weary eyes as he refocused on Imara “I…” he said, with deep emotion portrayed in his eyes.

The change in emotion wasn’t missed by Imara, her facial expression softened, her mouth opened slightly, and for a silent unspoken moment, it was as if years of words were exchanged in a flash, but they still both sat in front of one another, silently.

. . . .

The mayor walked into the local tavern with a weary smile painted across his face “Laura, I’d like some a mug of honeyed beer” he spoke despondently. He greeted some of the locals sitting in the tavern, how different the mood of the place was compared to just a few weeks ago, that’s what disaster does to a place, he thought strongly as he found his regular table, the chief of the sentries was already sitting there together with the head physician. They both had gotten a lot of authority since the crisis had begun, and the mayor relied heavily on the two, luckily for him none of them had been power hungry or misused their position, he had initially been wary about the human guard chief, although he had helped the village many times, he was still an outsider, but he had proven himself very useful and loyal in times of danger.

The candle flickered lightly as the mayor sat down heavily, the burden he carried was clear to everyone present.

“Still no word from the left minister’s garrison?” Rodbearth asked with a heavy note to his voice, he might be human and he might not be a local, but he had fallen in love with Rigsby Dale and its innocent and carefree citizens, yes it had its problems, but which town and county didn’t.

The mayor lightly shook his head as he took a big swig of his beer.

“DARNED BASTARDS!!” The physician cursed angrily “What does he think will happen next? The undead will simply stop moving?” he spat angrily on the floor as he continued “The minister’s a real piece a’ work I tell you! The coward!” he was just about to spit again when the barkeep Laura came over and slapped him in the back of the head and asked him ‘politely’ to clean up his previous mess, the small exchange between the two let to some lighthearted laughter in the tavern, but it quickly died out again, replaced once more with solemnity.

As the night passed on the tavern emptied out one by one, before he knew it the mayor was the only one left, he got up drunkenly and moved his large hobbit feet towards the exit whilst waving a shaky goodbye to Laura. Although the sun would rise soon, it was still pitch black, the silence of the night was plagued by the sound of the undead wailing outside the palisades, however the mayor was too drunk and too numb to be affected by it, he simply sauntered towards his home.

At some point he realised that he must’ve gotten lost as he stumbled upon an unfamiliar alleyway, there he saw someone he noticed, it was Rodbearth speaking in hushed tones with another human, the other man was unfamiliar to the mayor, but he didn’t care, he was just about to notify them of his position, when he heard one sentence that sent a shiver down his spine.

“The mayor?” Rodbearth asked incredulously, his voice vicious “I’ve got him just where I want him, that old fool”

Even though he was drunk and confused, the wheels began spinning rapidly ‘I‘ve to get away!’ was the single penetrating thought that made the mayor quickly return from whence he came and quickly disappear into the night lost, scared, but most of all, angry!

. . . .

The following morning Pete woke up in an unfamiliar makeshift blanket bed, surrounded was he by the smell of herbs and charcoal, he was at Imara’s place, she had insisted that the two siblings stayed after the dinner, after Sovnfield had gone home, Pete wasn’t blind, he could see that the pharmacist didn’t want to be alone that night, and although Pete was very much intrigued by the background story of the two, he refrained from asking.

He quietly cleaned up the bedding on the floor and put it in a corner, neatly folded, he had awoken earlier than usual, and his sister was still sleeping on the small guest bed that had been pulled out of the basement. He opened the backdoor towards Imara’s private garden to allow in some fresh air. It was funny how the small garden looked so peaceful and beautiful considering the state of things in the small village. Pete took a deep breath of fresh air and stretched, then he went to the chicken coop, he had been there before and knew where things were.

‘The old stubborn fool!’ Imara thought to herself with a small smile across her mouth as she walked down the staircase, she was met with a whiff of fried egg and bread. The two siblings were peacefully eating their breakfast while bantering lightly, as soon as they saw her they said good morning, Pete was quick to explain that he had taken some of her eggs, but Imara simply waved it off as she too sat down to eat.

‘Maybe ten years older or so’ was the thought that passed through her head as she was quietly observing the two siblings washing the dishes in the outside wooden bucket. Imara was comfortably sitting in a rocking chair on her porch while she puffed on a short stubby pipe. She was wearing a yellow wool dress with a green shawl over her shoulders, her hair gently flowing loosely in the wind, her memories too flowing with every gust. What could’ve been, had she not left, what could’ve been had she returned earlier, a small tear drifted down her cheek as she sat there reminiscing with a bitter-sweet smile.

. . . .

In a lavishly decorated room the merchant LaGerfield paced back and forth restlessly, his back hunched to avoid hitting his head on the low hobbit ceiling, he had heard from his man about what had happened between Sovnfield and Imara, it seemed that the pharmacist was no pushover! To all of the newcomer’s surprises, she was even suspected to best Sovnfield if they had gone all out. He was almost certain that Sovnfield or Imara would come for him anytime now, as his frustration grew, so did his pacing, in a fit he knocked down his wardrobe, and in the process straightened his back a bit too much, hitting his head hard into the supporting beam, he instantly fell unconsciously to the ground bleeding from the back of his head.

. . . .

The mayor had consulted his wife the moment he got home at dawn, stinking of alcohol and sweat, she had not been pleased, and insisted that he took a shower before they even began speaking. At first his wife had sat there in her nightgown nodding her head calmly while her husband narrated the encounter, then she had questioned him, considering his drunken state, who knows if he had misunderstood or fabricated the event? The mayor had insisted that he hadn’t and then gone to bed to recover, so that he could deal with the traitorous Rodbearth as soon as possible.

On the edge of his bed the mayor realised that he wasn’t so sure of the previous night’s events, sure he had seen and heard Rodbearth, he didn’t have any doubt about that, but could he have misunderstood something? What was the conversation about anyhow? There were too many questions and too little evidence, he very well couldn’t go and demoralize the villagers by arresting Rodbearth, and weakening the village’s defences in such dire times, he held his head with both of his hands as he collected his thoughts.

. . . .

The village was in an uproar! Apparently the mayor had found Sovnfield crouched over LaGerfields injured body, the man upon awakening, had instantly pointed out Sovnfield as his attacker. The mayor felt that he would never get rid of his current headaches. He had been on his way to LaGerfield to covertly ask him questions about Rodbearth, somehow the mayor figured that the two most prominent humans in town must know each other, who would’ve guessed that he’d find such a scene! Everyone knew of what had transpired the previous day, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to arrest Sovnfield.

It was while the mayor was walking towards the granary to check on the food supply that he was ambushed by Rodbearth, catching everyone’s attention.

“D’you think that slime of a merchant would’ve lived if Sovnfield attacked him!” Rodbearth growled as he towered over the mayor and his personal guard, with him was several of the sentries from the palisades and a couple of adventurers.

Under normal circumstances the mayor would’ve weighed Rodbearth’s words more, but currently, he suspected him of wrongdoings, a wrongdoer helping another wrongdoer? The answer was simple “Stand down Rodbearth, you’re nothing but a human parading around here, step back now before you do something else which you’d regret!” the mayor sneered fearlessly.

“Racism, that’s where you are? What happened with you man!” Rodbearth yelled angrily, it had been just yesterday when they clanked their mugs and drowned their sorrows and fears together.

While the tension grew the two simply stared at one another, and before anyone had noticed several hobbits had lined up behind the mayor, some smelled of magic, others of steel, regardless, the situation was grim.

. . . .

Clouds covered her as she soared up on a warm air-drift, her tiny beady eyes blinked in the brisk weather, as she soared back down, the landscape reflected in her glassy eyes, fields and moors, valleys and forests, creatures and villages. She flew low when she saw a tree to rest in, the people standing beneath it she cared little about. Perched upon a branch, while scratching her feathers with her tiny claws she let out a serene sound.

When the lark began to sing, the moment it opened its mouth, it was as if a spark was lit, and the tension exploded in one big chaos of violence.

The lark had seen much in its short life, so it continued singing, only louder, trying to overcome the noise from below the tree. Its song marked a strange contrast of beauty and violence.

. . . .

A light drizzle hazed up the now muddy area, flashes of steel and magic were seen, while others were fighting with their fists and legs. Imara sighed heavily when she hastily walked onto the scene, fools all of them! She cursed mentally as she took a deep breath.

“FOOLS!” her voice deafened the make-shift battlefield, the fighting ceased, if but for a moment, but soon it continued “DID YOU NOT HEAR ME!” her voice louder, ebbing of power and the arcane, her hands spread out into two clawing motions as she moved them above her head, her fingers began humming like tuning forks pacifying the men and women fighting, calming them down.

As sanity reached the two groups once more, they came to realise the fatal blunder they had made, were there not enough casualties as it were? Although no one had gone all out or purposely tried to kill anyone, there was still three dead, two hobbits and one man, the mayor and Rodbearth shared a look of pain as they gathered up their people to try and come to some peace.

Imara walked over to the corpses sorrowfully, and put them on fire, as was the solution, it was one of many ways to avoid them turning into undead.

. . . .

‘I didn’t even have to do anything, and those fools are murdering each other’ he cackled mutedly in an alleyway, the people passing thought he was crying, maybe he had known one of the victims.