The sun is beginning to set, tinting the sky in a golden hue not too un-similar to the dead flora of the local area, just a few miles North of a poor village called Drayton. To on a riding on my left is Goran, swaying from side to side like a charmed snake a saw once in a traveling man’s act as a child… Only the snake wasn’t snoring.

On the other side of him was Dahlia, who promptly kicked him awake, warning him.

“If you continue sounding like a bear, one will soon find you looking for a mate!”

“From th’ look of ye’ I suppos’ that you’re that Bea-” His words catching in his throat as the butt of her spear slams into his ribs, causing him to lose his balance and fall out of his saddle. His leg stuck in the stirrup, leaving Goran upside down with his face dragging along the dusty road. I suspect his horse noticed, as it seemed to speed up slightly, much to Goran’s dismay, who starts flailing around creating a dust cloud emanating various curses and threats aimed at Dahlia.

On my right is my closest friend Torben, to whom I glance over at, noticing him slumped in his saddle, vaguely resembling the sleeping bear likely to pay Goran a visit and I therefore judge it best to let him sleep, rather than risk losing a hand.

After traveling 5 more miles, we made camp in the dark, not daring to start a campfire. I awoke to see the sun, early in the sky and slowly started to stretch to release the stiffness from sleeping rough. As I lay back, looking at the morning sky, I heard a near inaudible sound and my body froze. I lay there for what seemed an eternity and focused my ears, though in reality it was only a few moments.

Suddenly, in the distance I heard the neigh of a horse, acting as signal to prompt me into action.

I shot up, rousting my mates into a dull consciousness and the four of us were in our saddles riding hard for the ‘Watching Wood Forest’ located North of Drayton, praying that we were not seen by the distant cavalry.

Some hours later we stopped to rest and water our horses, whilst eating some of our (my) rations, since game in this desolate region is very scarce. Not that we have enough time to hunt and cook it before moving once more anyway.

It should only be a couple hours ride to the forest, where food should be easier to find… Hopefully.

Sat across from me on a log was Dahlia, chewing on a small piece of salted beef.

“Persistent Bastards ain’t they Raegan, to think they’d want your sorry hide enough to chase you this far North”

I smirk, replying.

“Some reason I don’t think they’d just leave you alone either, though I guess there’s a chance they just intend to drag me back and punish me a little. You’d defiantly be killed though.”

“You really know how to cheer up a lady.”

“Shame there aren’t any around here then, or else I could put that cheer’n to use.”

Goran and Torben walk over from their horses and sit down, the skinny 6’ft Goran being juxtaposed by Torbens huge burly stature. Goran, seeing no one has any intention to speak stands up, moving in-between everyone.

“If I may have your attention, I will be today's entertainment!”

30 seconds later everyone was mounted and the ‘Entertainer’ had a couple of new bruises. And so we continued North.

We rode over the next hill, spilling onto the plains to see twenty or so of the Sand Scorpions to the north seemingly waiting for us, knowing double that number are behind us. This leaves West and East as an escape route, with west leading to the ‘edge of the world’ and therefore not being an option. Towards the east is the Forgotten Lands and near certain death or so I hope, as they won’t follow us through that wasteland if they have any sense.

I signal the others to follow me, riding East and slightly North to cut through the corner of the forgotten lands in the hope of not going deep enough to be eaten by some abomination and wishing even more that they’d have a taste for some dirty raiders.

After two hours ride with near to 80 riders on our tail we reached the edge of the Barrens and to my surprise, 50 of them followed us in with the Sand Scorpions leader at their head, the remaining 30 being either too scared to enter or are cursing their horses that abruptly stopped before this cursed land.

A day has passed since we lost sight of the raiders behind us and we have gotten little sleep for fear of not waking up, even though we have yet to see any monsters that reside here but there is always a sense on unease, as if something lurks just outside your sight.

Around midday we are climbing over a large rocky hill, carefully traversing a safe…ish path in an attempt to not injure any horses who could misstep, or more likely Goren, who has already tripped up three times since the trek.

I notice our horses become nervous and shy away from the hilltop, a very bad sign since horses tend to have much better senses than us. Therefore, we tie them to a nearby, and long-dead tree, ready our weapons and move forwards to get more information.

Both me and Torben have an iron longsword and an old shield, Goran having a short-bow and a few throwing daggers, and Dahlia having a spear, with an wide iron spearhead.

At the top of the rise we received a reminder that these deserts are not as empty as they seem.

Bodies of horses and men were scattered around, not one of them being whole, many no more than scraps of an arm or leg. A gnarly piece of flesh, desperately clinging to a shattered bone.

Amongst the dead were crow-like creatures tearing at the carrion, known as Tengu, two metre tall birds who flock towards bodies in and around the Forgotten Lands, the main reason those in the barons burn their dead. That and the possibility they crawl out of their graves to seek flesh… probably just a false wives-tale, but one that is widely treated as fact.

Luckily, there is only six of the monstrosities, but unluckily they’ve noticed us and tend to be aggressive to those who disturb their meal… or perhaps they see us as food? The six Tengu then soar into the air, shrieking in anger before swooping towards us, three of them falling out of the air as they’re picked off by Goran’s arrows before they’re upon us, each one taking at least two arrows to kill.

Then my vision becomes a whirlwind of jet-black feathers, momentarily stunning me as two set of talons reach for my face, intent on tearing it off. I slightly lean back, the blood-stained talons narrowly missing my face, being so close I could lick them clean.

However suddenly leaning back had left me unbalanced, I felt myself falling backward and I blindly swung towards the Tengu’s chest, being rewarded with a shrill screech of pain and droplets of warm blood landing on my face.

The crow stood over me, then attempting to tear out my throat with its beak, allowing me to momentarily notice its chest wound wasn’t nearly as deep as I would have hoped.

It continued to go for my throat, each time I slash at its face to drive it back… If I had dropped this sword when I fell, I likely would have already died 10 times over.

An arrow then hits it slightly left of its collar bone (provided they have collar bones) and it looks up with eyes full of rage, I follow its gaze to see Goran drawing another arrow from his quiver with a wide smile that shows way too much teeth. The Tengu forgets about me as it dashes towards Goran, half running, half gliding, not giving Goran enough time to loose another arrow. Dahlia runs past me, spear in hand and throws it 15ft at the over-sized carrion, impaling it through the side of its chest.

I look around to assess the situation; Torben is standing over a decapitated Tengu, with a large cut just above his right eye. The bird that attacked me before being killed by Dahlia is twitching as it draws its final breath, and Dahlia’s original foe is lifeless, with a spear wound through its heart… Providing they have hearts to begin with.

“Well…um… thank’ ye’ I guess, not too fon’ of becomin’ bird feed.” Goran mumbled looking at the corpse only 2ft away from him.

Dahlia, ignoring Goran walked over to Torben, putting a hand on his wound

*Lesser heal*

Torben’s cut slowly closes, leaving a new scar on his face to match that across his jaw, caused by a thugs dagger some years ago.

“Should be careful doin’ tha’ magi stuff, get you executed it would if anyon’ found out!” Goran says as if giving out wise knowledge.

“… We’re in the middle of a fucking wasteland you dolt. Who is going to find out?” Dahlia growls.

“Umm… other magi men an’ that”

".....” Goran certainly isn’t the smartest of my… Associates.

We walk back to our horses and after a short break start heading north, travelling around the plane of ex-raiders, as our horses would refuse to go near. Though horses that grow up near the forgotten lands are more accustomed to the uneasy feeling it emits, ours aren’t trained warhorses accustomed to being near death and blood.

I am not sure what slaughtered our pursuers and I don’t want to find out. Judging by the fact no one else has raised the question either, it is probably best to leave the conversation to an indefinably later time.

And so we continue north.

*Campsite- Night*

We traveled for two more days north towards the border of a small kingdom called Taldar, in which I was going to look for work in the military or a mercenary group.

I will use that to take advantage of their training, whilst saving money and hopefully not dying in the process.

After I’ve saved up some money, I would be free to… Ok, I actually don’t know what I want to do after that, but I should have a decent amount of time to think of something.

We are all gathered around a crackling fire, with the smell of cooking meat in the air as a skinny doe hangs over the flames. Thanks to Goran’s hunting earlier today, though he’s an idiot, he still has uses. Kind of like using a crappy sword as a walking stick, with his mind as the sword.

Dahlia was the first to speak.

“… Ok. So now we should be out of danger and can think straight, what do we plan to do?”

“Gunn’ go north-wes’ to tha’ bigger lan’… Valkesh I thinks its called.” Goran answers whilst eying tonight dinner, a slight sliver of drool escaping his mouth.

“Perhap’ you should join a traveling circus then, it’ll suit you.” I mock, whilst stifling a chuckle.

“Wait… That’s a great idea, doin’ tha’ I can earn me wage an’ explor’ around the world!” Goran exclaims, beaming like a madman who finally remembered where he put his secret stash of imaginary gold.

“…” -Me

“…” -Dahlia

“…” -Torben

I decided to break to silence.

“ I intend to join a mercenary company… And, uh… Torben’s also coming.”

Ok, maybe I hadn’t asked him yet, but he hasn’t left my side since we were four, (we’re both 20 years old now) and it took me 10 years to get him to sleep in his own bed. With nothing weird happening in the mean time…

Torben stays silent, I stare at him for a few seconds to see if he has any complaints, he notices me and gives a wink. Creepy.

Dahlia is the last to comment.

“Don’t intend to join you Raegan, no offense but it seems like a good way to reach an early grave. Which is the reason why I’m leaving the Barrens in the first place. So I think I’ll go with Goran into Valkesh and go it alone from there.”

To be honest I had not expected for us all to stick together, but it still hurts splitting up from two people you’ve been with for years.

Probably best to not feel sorry for myself.

We ate, slept and set off once more towards Taldar’s border. We arrived there at Darkfen forest at midday, which marked the southern border of Taldar and we cautiously entered the wood.

I have only been out of the barrens a few time, all of which was during a job in my days as a member of the Sand Scorpions, whom got very upset when I robbed most of their gold and set off for greener pastures.

Anyway, unlike in the barrens, this forest is very… Green. I can actually hear bird songs as they flutter between trees and even see the occasional squirrel.

Though this kingdom does have a Forgotten Land to its south-east border, it is relatively far from a dense white fog that border the ‘edge of the world’ that stops things from growing properly and kills off livestock with ‘supernatural plagues’.

Because of this distance, the ground should be fertile and its citizens relatively well fed, but it is far from a prosperous land, as the majority of its military force is on the border fighting monsters attracted to villages and towns.

As a result, there hasn’t been a kingdom on kingdom war in over 200 years due to that weakening your military force can put your own villages at risk and any land you conquer is likely to have its own Forgotten Lands nearby, which you’ll have to defend, further stretching out your military power.

While I’m in deep thought, Torben speaks up.

“Why is there no border control or checkpoints in case of a raiding party attacking one of their southern villages?”

“Wait. Aren’t you and Raegan one of those who’ve raided this area before, what if you get recognized?” Dahlia asks in a slightly amused tone.

“That’s the point. Last time we were ‘ere we had to avoid small groups of soldiers patrolling the edge of the forest, and since we raided them anyway, shouldn’t there be more security here?”

“That… Is certainly strange. Probably best to keep on guard, hey Raegan! How far to the nearest village?”

I pull out a crude map of this area I procured off the Sand Scorpions before I left, that was made the last time we raided this area for ‘future reference’.

“Just half an hour north, not far.”

Soon we arrive at a small hunting village called Kurst, coincidentally the one we raided a little over a year ago. Unlike last time, and probably because of us, the village has a small wooden wall around it that is around 15ft high.

We walk up to the main gate that has a sentry post on each side and we are hailed by one of these sentries. A tall man around 40 with black hair, going grey in place, with a bow in hand and looking at us with hawk-like eyes.

Probably one of the village hunters, not that I recognize him though. Oh, and on Dahlia’s previous worry we would be recognized, we were both masked and neither of us spoke to any villagers, so there is no chance of us being recognized. Hopefully.

The Hawk-eyed man shouts out in a gruff voice

“What business do you have here, and I don’t need no trouble makers!”

“We have silver and a couple of rabbits to sell if your interested.”

He thinks for a couple of seconds and looks us over once more.

“Fine, but if you draw those weapons in the village, your gunna have a arrow in your skull soon after.”

He disappears from his post for a minute or two before the gates slowly swing open.

Walking in to the village I have to admire their resilience, there is no building damage or poorly done repairs and if you factor in the new wall, the village is in even better condition it was before my first visit.

There are 16 houses, 1 storage building with two hunters guarding the entrance, a slightly bigger house which is probably for the village elder and a town centre with a large cooking pit in the middle used for communal dinners.

Due to this being a small village and that it is at the border, it get very little visitors and therefore has no inn, not that I intend to stay the night. We head to the village elder to trade, swapping our two hunted rabbits, thanks to Goran, for some dry rations and food for the horses.

After an hours rest, we set off for a larger fishing village in the centre of the forest, called Darkfen village.

It took us the rest of the day to get to the larger village, which hopefully should have somewhere to stay the night, because I am sick of sleeping under a tree. Nothing eventful happened on the way there, nor do Goran get anymore game… Useless Goran.

Unlike the last village, this one was accustomed to travelers passing through, so we got in without a problem and headed to the ‘Black Trout’ Tavern/Inn.

When we walk in, we are greeted by the sound of intoxicated laughter, the smell of alcohol and fish. We sat down at a table in the corner of the room, ordered some drinks and salted fish, after all it is their specialty. Not to mention the only food they actually serve.

I notice a peculiar group of four, almost as suspicious as our own group, almost. I notice they are all wearing an emblem of a vicious dog on a pendent hanging loosely from around each of their necks. Therefore I decide to approach them, with the ringleader looking to be a talkative brown haired man around 23.

Judging by the worn leather armour they wear, they are mercenaries or something similar.

I speak to the talkative one.

“Hey there, I was just passing through this village whilst looking for employment through the use of arms. I was wondering if you could help.”

He replies with a wide grin, though from how his eyes are judging my worth, he clearly isn’t as drunk as he seems or at least, he can still think straight whilst drunk.

“An’ perhaps I can help you with that. I’m Argus Makris, a part of the black hound mercenary company, currently attached to Taldar’s Third army.”

“… Raegan Martis.”