Chilton stood just inside the treeline of the Valterre, relieving himself on a leaves of one unfortunate sapling. Other trees rose around him like great wooden towers, their bushy branches blocking out all but the thinnest strands of moonlight. The disgruntled guard had purposely walked a few steps past the treeline to do his business. He enjoyed privacy, yes, but he also didn't trust Grayle enough to leave the man too closely at his back.

As he did his business, mindlessly splattering his boots in the process, Chilton was sure to keep his eyes fixed on the darkness further in. If something unexpected were to spring out and attack, at least he’d see it coming first. However, aside from the wind shushing the leaves, the mouth of the forest was eerily still and silent. If any creatures lay in wait under the vast canopy, they kept themselves well-hidden within the ominous presence of the woodland.

Still, Chilton kept his wits about him. He wouldn't be the first guard to go missing within the Valterre. The zone was crawling with all kinds of mid-to-high level enemies; occasionally, his fellow guardsmen formed hunting parties and went out into the wilderness to plunder and level up. Chilton never saw the point in joining them—he'd come to Brix specifically to avoid having to put his life in any real danger.

Fuckin' rats.

If not for those two nitwits—well, one now—he'd still be in the guardhouse, hustling his mates at poker, several mugs deeper in ale and with a healthy stack of coins on the table in front of him. Instead, he was taking a leak at the edge of a dark, dangerous forest, hoping there wasn't a pack of wolves or branch cat currently looking at him as food. The guard finished and started back towards Grayle and the remaining thief.

Let's make this quick, thought Chilton, as he zipped himself back up.

His buzz was beginning to wear off, and he was eager to see if the luck he'd had with cards earlier in the night hadn't yet fled. He fumbled with his belt as he trudged back through the tall grass, cursing the dim strength of the moon. It was difficult to see his own waist, let alone a hundred feet away.

As Chilton neared the execution spot, he saw the silhouettes of Grayle and the soon-to-be-dead boy rise out of the gloomy darkness. He called ahead. "Alright, hold that idiot steady so we can finish and get back to the—"

About thirty feet in front of him, one of the figures suddenly crumpled. An indistinct death timer appeared in the distance.

Huh?

The guard picked up his pace. Grayle! His fellow guard probably just performed the execution without him, trying to loot the boys corpse before he got back. The greedy bastard was trying to keep it all for himself. Untrustworthy sod!

However, as Chilton neared, he saw the remaining figure was much too small to be Grayle. The man was rounder than a barrel even without his armor, not to mention the silhouette ahead was at least a head shorter. The kid? It could only mean that Grayle was the one who crumpled, but that was impossible...

"What the hell—"

He didn't have time to finish. The figure bolted towards the woods.

Chilton had no other choice but to give chase. He didn't even have time to be upset about Grayle's incompetence; this would reflect bad on him, too. One dead guard and the thief escaped? If the proprietor didn't kill him outright, he'd be public beaten and demoted for this little mishap. Both were fates he'd rather avoid.

He tried to intercept the running thief by cutting into his path, but the boy noticed him and swerved diagonally, managing to stay about ten paces ahead.

"Stop!" Chilton growled. He pulled out a dagger from his belt. His quarry was closing in on the forest's edge, and Chilton didn't relish the idea of trying to catch the little rat in this darkness. "Stop or this dagger'll find your back!"

Even though studded leather was comparatively light to other armors, it was still weighed significantly more than the boy's simple cloak and tunic. He was beginning to pull away. Not to mention, it'd been a long time since Chilton last bothered to work on his Conditioning; in the cramped settlement and the cramped mines of Brix, you never needed to run much for anything. The guard winced. In just a few seconds, both he and the boy would be plunged into the Valterre wilderness.

Chilton brought his arm back, steadied—and let fly the dagger. Its silvery blade glinted as it sailed high and right, missing the target's head before disappearing into the dark. Then, the boy crashed into the underbrush of the forest, and Chilton moments later.

Damn!

Truthfully, the guard would've been surprised had his dagger hit its mark. Sometimes he practiced in the training yard behind the guardhouse, but never with any seriousness. His Throwing skill was terrible. Even if his target hadn't been moving, there still would've been a good chance he missed. For a moment, when the first thin branch whipped into his face, Chilton considered allowing the boy to escape. Surely he wouldn't last so much as an hour running through these dangerous woods in pitch blackness...

He quickly shook the thought from his head. Grayle's death still needed explaining. He didn't doubt for a second that the proprietor would have Aldor torture the truth out of him.

Now that made Chilton shudder.

In Brix, the only thing that terrified the guard's more than Skole's punishment was the wizard's infamous interrogation techniques. Whatever Aldor did to their minds in that twisting stone tower of his, they always returned as shells of who they once were, like they'd been burned up from the inside out. Most were unable to do their jobs; Chilton had even heard of some going on to end their lives months later, in gruesome, unexplainable ways.

The forest was so dark that it was nearly impossible to see, but Chilton could easily follow the sound of his quarry further ahead, plowing through the underbrush. He just needed the boy to slip up once—to trip on exposed roots or collide with a low-hanging branch—and it'd be over. The guard propelled himself forward with all the twisted thoughts of what he'd do once this latest inconvenience was caught.

Suddenly, the tip of Chilton's boot caught on a half-buried stone, sending the man tumbling to the ground. He got up as quickly as he could manage, but stood still for a moment so he could pinpoint the sound of movement. He heard it a short distance away—but it ceased seconds later. It seemed the boy had stopped running. He was trying to hide instead.

Chilton grinned wickedly. Big mistake.

As he moved towards the last sound he heard, the guard first pulled out a torch and lit it, the orange flames giving him a few feet of visibility. He was surrounded by trees, and though the underbrush wasn't exactly thick in these parts, there were still many wide trunks and patches of vegetation a person could hide behind. Next Chilton drew the short sword from his waist, which he used to hack at any foliage large enough to conceal a boy.

"C'mon out, you," he called into the darkness. "I know you can hear me. Just come on back and we'll work something out."

The guard's demands were met with nothing but the sound of creaking branches swaying in the wind.

"Heh," he continued, "maybe you could even take Grayle's job... man was a fool anyways, and Skole has a soft spot for those who take initiative."

Still nothing. Chilton grumbled and decided to try a different approach.

"The longer you make me search, the more parts I'll cut off before I end you for good," he said, with as much menace he could muster. "First your ears... then your tongue..." As he continued searching, the anger grew within him. He slashed at the bushes in his path, each swing increasing his building rage. "Next, eyes... fingers..."

Some leaves rustled nearby. Chilton smiled and swung his sword in anticipation. "Here, piggy piggy..." he said, heading towards the noise.

He rounded a particularly large tree and cast his torchlight in the direction of the sound, but he found no prisoner revealed by the flickering flames—

Instead, a huge bugbear emerged from the shadows. The muscled creature was at least two heads taller than Chilton himself, with a coat of greenish-brown fur and large tufted ears. Its eyes were mean and yellow, the lower incisors of its mouth curved upward in a snarl. A pillaged steel breastplate lay over one shoulder like a pauldron, and in the bugbear's hand was a rusty axe, clearly never been cleaned. It raised its weapon in preparation for an attack and began moving towards Chilton with purpose.

"C'mon then," Chilton growled. Though the mob had surprised him, it was still a lower level than he, and there was only one. In his adventuring days, the guard had defeated much more terrifying enemies. He quickly closed the distance and prepared himself to dodge the attack he knew was coming.

When the bugbears axe arced down, Chilton rolled to the side and the axe thunked into the dirt where he had just been standing. For a second, the missed attack left the bugbear vulnerable. Chilton finished his roll on his feet and immediately unleashed a three-strike combo—slash, slash, thrust. The attack opened the creature's guts.

The bugbear roared and stepped back, clutching its midsection. Chilton moved in for the final blow—

But the sound of more rustling gave him pause. More bugbears appeared out the darkness then, each with its hungry eyes fixed upon the guard. He guessed the thief had already met his fate. No wonder the kid went silent. Bugbears loved human meat.

Not good. A single bugbear Chilton could handle with ease... but six of them?

He glanced around for an escape. The beasts had him surrounded. With their high strength, Chilton knew it'd be over if one managed to grab ahold of him. There were still a few gaps between them, however, and bugbears were notorious for their slow speed. If he could just get free...

Chilton chose a direction and bolted.

His luck must've carried over from the card game, because though one of the bugbears got a hand on his belt, Chilton was able to pull away before the beast gripped him fully. Because he hadn't latched the strip of leather properly after relieving himself, it slipped from his waist, along with his club and scabbard. He could hear the bugbears giving chase, but he knew they wouldn't be fast enough to catch him now. All he had to do was keep on his feet. A roar sounded behind him, as if the bugbear sensed its meal's impending escape.

Stupid beasts, thought Chilton. No way he was going to end up on tonight's menu.

The guard was so intent on running and dodging trees, he didn't notice the lumbering shadow in the periphery of his vision. The bugbear lying in wait met him with such force that Chilton was knocked off his feet and sent flying into a nearby tree trunk. He felt bones break and the wind knocked out of him from the violent impact.

It didn't take long for the bugbears to reach him.

Chilton tried to raise his sword arm, but he screamed in pain—his shoulder was dislocated. He then tried used his torch as a deterrent, but a bugbear swatted away his meager defense with one of its massive clawed fists. Barking to each other in their savage half-language, one of the bugbears grabbed the frantic guard by the leg and lifted him upside down.

"Put me down, beast!" Chilton yelled. He hung there in the bugbear's iron grip, flailing helplessly.

The bugbear cocked its head, blinked its yellow eyes, and—

The last thing Chilton saw was a giant club, speeding towards his face.

Crunch!