"Name and Class, please."

"Look, I already gave them to the guard at the drawbridge. Then the guy in portcullis. And the gatehouse. The one at the doorway to the great hall, another at the exit from the great hall, and the one at the entrance to the north hall. The man is literally standing in eyesight." The young man turned and pointed about 100 feet down the hall to another guard, already leaned against the wall and half asleep.

The guard let out a long, pained sigh as a little of the light faded from his eyes. "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but I'm afraid I don't make the rules. Name, and Class, please."

The young man crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the tired guard. "Wouldn't it be faster to just let me through?"

"Wouldn't it be faster to just answer the question?"

The young man made eye contact with the guard, narrowing his eyes further. The guard just gave an empty smile.

"Roy Oatbrow, [Mage]."

-

Balance.

An old trope. A bad cliche. And in a world of levels, classes, monsters, and magic, an important part of everyday life.

The city of Bastow had stood in Lorione Forest for generations upon generations. The ancient, towering forest, known for devouring whole groups of experienced [Explorers]. The legends people whispered in the taverns and while traveling the roads speak of trees that scraped the very sky, too high to see from the ground. A constant twilight, the leafy cover above preventing any sunlight from filtering down, glowing vegetation and, yes, the odd mushroom provided most of the light. Deer the size of castles and taller than their towers were said to walk here, near-silent giants nibbling what growth they could reach from the massive trees.

But there were darking things lurking as well, things with eyes that would glow red from the dark corner of your eye only to disappear from view when you turn. Things that could creep silently up from behind you until, slowly, you begin to think you can hear something, and it get's slowly louder and closer and more familiar until you feel the hot breath on your back and you turn, horrified at what you will find but knowing you must find out what it is, and it's nothing. Empty forest behind you.

The lucky ones make it out alive, their sanity only slightly worse for wear. The unlucky ones are said to haunt the forest to this day.

It is also said that those souls are responsible for the prodigious growth of the forest, their life helping the forest strengthen itself and reach new heights. The spirits of the dead reaching for heaven through the trees.

And while Lorione was known for eating travelers, it was primarily known as the largest forest in the world, with one of the best trade routes cutting right through it. Bastow owed its size and wealth to its fortuitous location on that road in part, but it was also the only city in or near the forest.

Other villages and towns and settlements popped up over time, but they would always end up abandoned. Whether mysteriously or through obvious monstrous interference, the forest would make it clear that no civilization but Bastow was welcome. Some wondered why that was. A few of the oldest residents had heard their great-grandparents tell tales about it, already local myth at that time.

The city had been settled in a time when the forest had belonged to the fey. Wild creatures, and highly skilled with magic, they nearly drove the humans from the entire continent. Their villages and farms burned, the few refugees that survived were being hunted. And so the humans had prayed in earnest, begging their gods for salvation. A way to leave this place. A way to run. And the gods, taking pity on their creations, gave the many races of the world Classes and Levels.

And as the last few humans began to fight back, they grew stronger, and stronger still. Their grasp of magic, once feeble, sharpened. Mages who could only just light a candle could now throw fireballs. Those who spoke the word of the gods gained a divine blessing to heal, warriors were stronger, and the Fair Folk were beaten back to their forest.

Until just before the final battle, the full might of the human forces bearing down on the last of the fey, a single fairy – looking much like an ordinary man – carried a white flag to the humans. Their losses had been heavy in every prior battle, and they had lost the will to fight. Not craving needless bloodshed, the various leaders of the human groups came together and met with the Kind Ones to establish terms.

The fey, for their part, were done with our world. Most of their remaining number had already retreated to the various fairy Courts. The ones who remained helped the assembled humans create a spell to bind way shut behind them, to keep any grudge-bearing humans from hunting them down to the last. The humans would build a city in the forest over the entrance to the fairy lands, and one of their families would be honorarily inducted into the Forest Court. The [Druids] would maintain the forest around the city, as any upset to the forest spirits would weaken the seal. And the [Sages] and [Bards] would pass down traditions to the city's people, tributes in memory of their bargain. And so long as a human [Forest Lord] kept his watch over the forest, the spell would not break.

But the fairies are not so easily deterred and the last fey stood before the assembled humans, the entrance ready to be bound. And he promised the humans that while they waited in the Courts, they would grow stronger. In number. In power. And if the seal ever broke, they would return.

They did not say what they would do, exactly, when they return, but you can rest assured it was very menacing.

And now, a [Warlord] had unseated the Alderburn family from the throne. And the balance sealing an ancient, magical army away had been upset.

Soon, the city would be in very deep shit.

-

Fortunately for Roy Oatbrow, [Mage], he was completly unaware that the city was starting the first slow circle around the toilet bowl of certain doom. Unfortunately for Roy Oatbrow, [Mage], he had been rather unceremoniously ejected from the [Warlord]’s chambers after seeking an audience with him. Apparently, a request to leave the city was simply untenable.

“Why would you ever want to leave such a beautiful city?” The [Warlord] had asked. “Do you not enjoy the hospitality of my people? The amenities my city offers?”

Roy, albeit young and lacking in political experience, was able to read between the lines. “The amenities are varied and delightful, lord. And the hospitality fit for royalty. The problem I have is not with your city, lord, but that I am stranded, far from home.”

“I’m sure whatever backwater shithole you’re from will find a way to survive your absence,” the warlord said, haughtily adjusting the opulent cape resting over his armor. “And I won’t be opening the city for anyone. I have enemies outside the walls. My life is far more important than yours, boy. Begone.”

And Roy had then been lifted bodily by a single [Guard], one hand under each armpit, and carried from the castle grounds.

The [Guard] put him down just outside the gates and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, not making eye contact with the [Mage]. After a moment he scuffed his boot at the dirt and spoke. “Look, I’m really sorry about the [Warlord], man. Don’t take it personally. He didn’t used to be like this, before. But ever since he took over, he’s just been paranoid. One of our guys turned on him while he was overthrowing the Alderburns.”

Roy was nonplussed. He considered how to respond, but couldn’t find anything quite right. He decided a curt nod would do, and walked off, considering the strange interaction. Regardless of the cause, he was trapped in this city for now. Putting the majority of his mind on the task of finding a way out of the city, he made his way toward the part of the city that housed most of the inns and taverns. The streets, only somewhat subdued by the recent shift in leadership, were full of people going about their business. Bastow’s population was mostly human, though there was a sizeable enough group of Anzu – a species of bird people – in the city as well as a few stragglers from the other races.

And as Roy made his way down the street, mumbling to himself as he pondered his predicament, they parted ways around him. Many cast sidelong glances at the young man, hoping whatever caused the rambling wasn’t contagious.

He was far too absorbed in his thoughts to notice that he had made his way into the seedier side of town, and certainly too absorbed to notice the small shadow that peeled itself away from the alley as he passed. The shadow was hard to see, it’s blurred edges and small stature making it hard to focus on for long. Roy paused briefly, still talking to himself, and the shadow mirrored his move. He glanced left, then right, and the talking slowed. He seemed to realise he was lost, suddenly, and lost in a bad part of town at that. Sure, he had magic, but he wasn’t exactly high level. He might be able to spook off a [Thug], but if it came down to a fight... He turned, abruptly, and started to head back the way he came.

Of course, by the time he had turned around, the shadow was already long gone with his coinpurse.

-

Roy’s day had been, on the whole, quite a poor one. First, dealing with that damn [Warlord] and getting told he was stuck here, then getting his damned coin stolen! All he had wanted was to return home so he could finish his apprenticeship and really start his life.

For now, it seemed, his life was in this city. He wasn’t sure if there were many [Mages] here, but if there were, maybe they had a guild? But he had no idea where a Mages’ Guild would even be. He’d never been more than a few miles outside of his village, let alone to wherever this “Bastow” was. Maybe if he asked around, someone could point him toward a city watch to report the crime, or at least find out if there was a Mage’s Guild he could go to for help. Surely his fellow [Mages] would help a fellow student of magic in need.

It took about 10 people before he got the information he needed, and it was another hour of walking through the city before he came to the closest City Watch building. Underfunded and uncared for in a city-state with a standing military presence and a goverment-sanctioned Thieves’ Guild resulted in a squat, rundown shack of a building housing the entirety of the lawmen in the city. The paint was peeling from the wooden walls and a sign over the door read “city watch”.

Upon entering, Roy was greeted to the sight of a rotund man whose belly was straining the poor fabric of his uniform sitting at a small desk and not much else.

“Good afternoon! What kind of report are you looking to file today?” The man smiled, waiting expectantly.

“Um, well. I was, well. I’m sorry, but are you it?” Roy asked, glancing around.

The man, whose hands had been poised over his desk to grab his quill and the appropriate paperwork, drooped slightly. “I’m... sorry?” He said it like a question, still smiling hopefully.

“Is this it? Is this the whole City Watch? One pudgy dude in a sad building?”

The [Watchman] looked hurt. “That was entirely uncalled for, young man. Yes, this is it, and I assure you, I do my best keeping this city safe! But the city keep cutting our, er, my funding. Cheaper for the nobility to just take bribes from the Thieves’ Guild and pretend that nothing happens.”

“Hm. Fine. I would like to report a theft.”