Hero and Gulrin step along a dirt pathway through a long-sighted field of lush green grass, the gently breeze swaying the landscape under the warm sun. Bright-Solemn is “pi”ing out a tune as Hero attempt to explain to Gulrin his understanding on what’s going on.

“So… you’re meaning to say that somehow these… these players are entering our world and wreaking havoc?”

Hero nods. “Apparently. Kell said they can just ‘log’ into our world and do whatever they want without the repercussion.”

Gulrin turns into himself as he looks to the dirt of the road. “That’s… I’ve had my suspicions. I’ve seen a few hunting parties, killing anything indiscriminately, even each other.”

“Madness.”

Gulrin nods solemnly as the wind rustles his beard. “Is this… a sign of the end?”

Hero squints grimly. “What do you mean?” He asks, though he’s sure he already has a pretty good idea.

Gulrin shakes his head. “Will they stop? I passed through a forest outpost village a few hours ago. They were all panicking because these invaders had killed all the livestock. Apparently they just murdered all the farm animals, looted them of their meat and hide, and ran off.”

Hero frowns in disgust. “Perhaps by killing Exeranoth we can at least solve one of the problems.”

Gulrin crosses his arms as they strike the high point of their current hill, overlooking a great wood beyond. “It all remains to be seen. I can only hope my family back at the Great Drop are doing well… Looks like this is our first trial.”

Hero looks out to the great forest, a deep, dark green overtaking the landscape before the enormous mountain range far, far in the distance. “I’ve heard of the Willwoods. Have you been inside?”

Gulrin nods. “A time or two, aye. I wouldn’t count myself an experienced navigator, but I’ve had enough close calls to know a good direction from a bad. As the woods are impenetrable from all angles but the roads, we’ll have to go in down our current path.” He points down a couple miles to a small chink in the forest’s oaken armor: an entry way into the forest proper.

Hero nods. “That’s good. Let’s do it. Ready, Bright-Solemn.”

“Pipi.” Bright-Solemn answers calmly.

The three start down the hill and to the woods. “So where all will we be passing through to the mountains?” Hero asks.

Gulrin scoffs as he pulls out his pipe and lights it for a smoke on the go. “You mean to say you don’t know where we’re going?”

Hero clears his throat. “I mean to say that I know the direction.” Hero points to Mt. St. Hellwithins. “That’s our orientation, naturally.”

Gulrin shrugs. “That’s fair enough. We should pass through this wood, then next would be the Swamp of Death-”

Hero hums. “Scary name,” he says as Bright-Solemn rolls its single, golden eye.

“Then the great rivers, and then the mountain ranges itself. Do you have any clue where in the range our mark is?”

Hero shakes his head, but taps his weapon, The Mighty and Merciless Dragon Scythe. “I don’t, but already I can feel Exeranoth’s presence far away. I’ll find him with the scythe.”

Gulrin raises a brow as he stuffs stray tobacco back into his pipe with a dense, dwarven finger. “It leads you to the beast?”

“I feel like it does. Like a sort of magnetism; an anticipation.”

“I see… that’s quite facina-”

“Wait,” Hero says, holding up his hand and reaching for the Dragon Scythe.

Gulrin and Bright-Solemn share a quick glance before looking out to the nearby trees of the field. The breeze blows, tossing Hero’s blond trusses about as he patiently focuses his energies.

“Welcome to the Wildy, faggeronis!” blurts an overweight-sounding voice as a crew of mercenaries drop from the trees around them. Their grins are wide, violent, utterly unaware of their immense, dooming mistake.

“Who goes th-” Hero’s silenced as one of the ganker leaps forward without warning.