The Place Beyond

By Andrew Lopitz

Ten years after the disaster that returned dragons to the world of Toochar, six of the individuals who witnessed the return have been brought together to stop the oncoming darkness from destroying their world. Their quiet lives completely upended, the Six of Toochar had but one goal. That was to save their world from The Place Beyond. Join the Chieftess, the Protector, the Mage, the Thief, the Scamp and the High Elf as they traverse this danger filled world to protect those they love from the destruction coming to their home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Lopitz
• Release date: Jan 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215664339

Book preview

Part One: The Place Beyond

Chapter One - Wrong Place, Wrong Time

The fall of the 5323 changed Norðr forever. Six travelers had all made the same tragic mistake, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Only two had even been involved in the battle, and that had been by pure coincidence. Now, they all sat in carts, captured by the Imperials for being traitors to the Emperor.  A wide variety of motivations had brought the six to Norðr at this point in history. From the farthest regions of Toochar they came here, all searching for ..... Something. It was as if they were compelled to come here. The events of that day made some of them think this was their reason for coming here, but little did they know the road that they walked now was leading to a far greater test than they would ever know.  

The sun had yet to break the horizon when the Protector was up and moving his cart up the path towards home.  Still too many days ahead of me. The day already had all of the hallmarks of another fall day in this land. From the chill blowing out of the north, to the heavy dew on the grasses and leaves that all of the inhabitants of this region knew that they winter was coming. But it had been an amazing hunt.  The meats, fur and other items he had gathered would suffice to keep the village through the winter.

He had to get there first, the border with where Meadhan occupied and Norðr had been a hotbed of conflict. Being a Norður could be problematic right now. They are suspicious of us all. The Protector kept thoughts of home in his mind as he plodded along the mountain trail.  Even in the coolness of the morning air, he found himself sweating profusely as he moved along. That was when he heard the combat break out down the path ahead of him. There was virtually no way around the land that the Imperials had taken from the Norour in their attempt to subjugate the population of the northern continent.

Nope. Waiting for that to settle down before moving any further. Not going to get dragged into any conflict I can avoid. He stopped dead in his tracks. Time passed, each minute slower than the last.  The Protector heard the Mahilqitat well before they arrived at his location.  

Good day. Was all he had to say.

The lead Mahilqitat, obviously a mage, nodded in return. The others followed, almost as if they were afraid of humans. They all said their hellos as they passed him and his cart. Not surprised if they were in Meadhan. He watched as they faded down the road and around the bend.

I wondered if that little Egur thought he was hidden.  Damn close to invisible though. The Protector worried about them even if the road did break away from the battle.  But now he just waited, and waited. Eventually the sounds of battle quieted, and the Protector felt it was safe again. The cart seemed even heavier now that it did before, maybe given the sense of dread that he felt moving forward.  After a time towards where the road appeared to curve away from the battle that was obscured by the trees, the Protector came across an Imperial Patrol on the road.  

Halt Norður! Lay any weapons down and move away from the cart! The lead Imperial barked and gestured at the same time. The Imperials armor was dirty and dented, obviously showing the wear and tear of being in the northlands for a long time. The Protector complied with the orders and moved off to the side. The lead office moved over to talk to him, while he directed the soldiers to check the cart. 

Name!

Fred, Fred Keurk.

Where are you coming from and where were you going?

Bringing these supplies to my village, we are preparing for winter.  He knew the tone this officer was taking with him.  He thinks I am a Uppreisnarmaður! The Protector did not care about the war, just keeping his village safe.

Yes, you could just as likely be bringing food to the Uppreisnarmaður scum we just captured. The officer turned to his men. Anything?

No Sir, just meat and furs, with a few herbs as well. 

Where did you hunt the game, Norður? This question was almost spat at him.

I hunt along the river, the best game can be found there.

Well my foolish friend, all of the game in Meadhan belongs to the Emperor, and you are guilty of poaching. Whether you are an Uppreisnarmaður or just a common criminal, you’re coming with us. With that he summoned the guards over to bind his hands and lead him away. The Protector turned back long enough to see the other guards set the cart on fire. I failed them, I failed them all.

The Mage had started his journey with a group of his fellow traveling Mahilqitat, headed to Norðr to make their fortunes and ply their trades. It had been a long trip from Manzil to the edge of Norðr. At first the group had debated his joining them, his fur color alone making many of the more superstitious of the group frown upon him. But when they learned he was a mage who had studied at the Imperial College, they allowed him along. The met with scorn and ridicule all along their journey, including the final boat ride here from Meadhan. As the small group worked their way out of the mountains toward Melaka, they heard the sounds of the battle ahead of them. They had passed a Norður along the road with a cart full of meat and skins. He had greeted them, but the Mage merely turned and nodded at him.  They continued for a little longer, until the noise of the battle was getting very clear.

We must turn back. A gray and black striped one stated.

No, we have come too far; we must try to move around this battle. Came the retort from a fully black furred Mahilqitat with a white muzzle.

The Mage knew that had come very far and the reception they had received from Meadhan was not very warm. Turning back was not a real option either. The party had been harangued from the moment they had entered Meadhan until the moment they moved into the mountains towards Norðr. But the battle did sound intense, and the Mage feared that they could be in some danger.

We continue along the road. The Imperials have shown they have no love for us, maybe we can find a more pleasant greeting from the Norðurs. The Mage looked at each of his fellow travelers in the eye. We simply must. I will ensure our safety. He knew his powers could protect them, but he had felt an odd waning of his strength as they got closer to their destination.

With that the group continued up the road, each step seeming to get heavier and heavier as they went forward. Even the beauty of Norðr in the fall was lost on them during their trek. Some leaves had started to fall this day, and even they beauty loving Mahilqitat could not appreciate what they saw. A pall seemed to fill the air around the group. 

As the battle got closer and closer, it was apparent that the group was getting more uncomfortable in this situation. Even the Mage himself was feeling some trepidation as they walked the road before them. Should we turn back? Find another way around? He just kept moving as he thought these things to himself.

Rounding a bend that seemed to take them away from the battle, there was a small sense of relief. But it was for naught, they stumbled into a skirmish between the Imperials and the Uppreisnarmaður. Before anyone could react, both Uppreisnarmaður and Imperials came at them from either side of the woods surrounding the road. 

First the guards and then the traders themselves fell to the blades of either side. The screams of his fellow Mahilqitat haunted his ears. The blood of his traveling partners was everywhere, including his robes and fur. I MUST DO SOMETHING! He tried his best to remember the firewall spell he had studied for a couple of days. As the Mage started his incantation, he felt a sudden pain to the back of his head, and the world faded to black.

The Thief had stumbled upon the Mahilqitat traders inside of Meadhan, halfway through his journey to Norðr.  As he had become a student of stealth and a genuine fear of outsiders, the Thief had decided to shadow them; to see where they were headed and what prizes they might inadvertently lead him towards.

Days passed, night passed; and the only consistent thing that the Thief saw was how poorly the Mahilqitat were treated by the Imperials. Like they are animals, and less than them. This only served to make the Thief use his abilities to help this group in their passage across these hostile lands.  The Thief had been sure to notice the mage in the group, and hoped that the mage was a strong one. He had even managed to gain passage on the same boat that had brought them here, hiding in the bowels of the ship during the trip.

That was when he heard the battle, at the exact same time as the Mahilqitat. Their party stopped, and so did he.  Although he never got close enough to hear, the hand gestures that were made ensured that they would continue down the road. The Thief thought to part ways with them right there, that’s insanity for me. I should make a break away from this place. But somehow he could not. He had become fond of these Mahilqitat; the Thief had not spent much time around anyone since leaving home. I can reach the Thieves Guild in Laketown through Myrkt if I have to.

He moved ahead of them to scout for any danger. It was clear for the longest time, but then he saw the Imperial troops waiting in ambush around the corner. How can I warn them? Oh Hi! I’ve been following you for a while, and I see there are some Imperial troops hiding in the trees. That would go over like not using an entire kill in Egur. He would wait; see if he could somehow help the poor Mahilqitat.  Bow at the ready, he knew he could kneecap a couple of the Imperials before they noticed him. 

That was when the skirmish broke out. Some of the Imperials leapt from the woods and started fighting with some Uppreisnarmaður who came from the other side of the road. His self preservation finally kicked in at that point. I can’t stay ........ I can’t.

As he slung his bow over his shoulder, the Thief started to move as far from the battle as he could. Fortunately the leaves had just started falling, and he had a smooth time getting a good ways away from the sounds of the conflict. Between his thoughts being on that and the poor Mahilqitat, he forgot to pay attention to everything around him.

Halt! An Imperial soldier had his sword drawn. Stand down. Drop your weapons and get on your knees.  The Thieves flight instinct was in full operation. He furtively looked around for a possible escape.

There are five archers in the trees around us, nowhere to go, Egur. The Thief checked this information, and indeed there were five with the bows drawn directly at him. As he set his gear on belongings on the ground, he sighed. I hope those Mahilqitat made out better than me.  He knelt before the Imperial officer.

It was time. Time to go home and make things right.  She was not sure how yet, but the Chieftain knew she had to find where her people were. She has passed through the Reshaki Highlands and across Meadhan to reach this crossing into Norðr. She had to endure many odd stares as she boarded the ship that brought her here, as if no one had ever seen an Orc before.

Her Tal Mingi host had given her some basic armor and a sword when she had left. Now the Chieftain had much better armor, with her steel plate armor being her present pride, and a two handed Warhammer.  Bandits had littered the roads along Meadhan, and they thought a lone female Orc would be easy prey. Fools. The Chieftain had easily taken care of any and all that had challenged her, some thinking she was easy picking and more recently to test themselves against an Orc in battle; Stupid Fools!

The winter was coming so there was no time to waste.  She had decided to stay in the trees along the mountains. Better to stay out of sight. Even though campaigning season should be over, there is always a chance someone was out skirmishing.  That’s when the Chieftain heard the noises of battle. It aroused feelings in her she had not felt in she didn’t know how long. The lust will be upon me soon, I must use it well. She kept moving along the trees and mountains.  Closer and closer the Chieftain got, listening and assessing the sounds of the battle. Shortly before reaching their location she stopped and listened intently to the battle before her.

Men, infighting amongst themselves no doubt.  She drew her Warhammer and prepared to join the battle. The bandits had attacked her first, but these men were responsible for the destruction of her home. For Orcsalla. Upon emerging from the woods, she determined which of the men were which. Two sides, blue versus red, I guess? The Chieftain could feel the berserker rage starting to overwhelm her. Not. Yet. She looked for who would be the leaders of these bands, but her brain never had the chance to finish scanning. The Rage had taken hold.

It was almost a beautiful dance, as she wove her way through the groups of troops; regardless of the color they wore they died at her hands. The Warhammer moved almost on its own, and the crashing against shields, armor and helms made the Rage intensify. She started with her own war cries as she slaughtered the men arrayed before her.  Their blood and gore covered her armor and weapon, but the battle raged on. It was almost as if she were a force of nature, decimating anything that got in her way.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Chieftain noticed most of the blue were dead.  She was surrounded by red soldiers.  With the Rage subsiding, the Chieftain now saw her situation for what it was a lost cause.  She set her Warhammer on the ground and knelt before the most senior officer she could find.

I surrender. I am the Chieftain of the Orc clans, and for them I ask for your mercy. 

It had been a long trip from Warmwinds to the desolate wastes of Norðr.  The High Elf was now beginning to regret the timing of his journey. It will be winter all too soon; I should have waited six months. But his pride would not let him wait. I will show them I am more than capable to be a soldier for the Winds Council! In order to do that, the High Elf intended to travel to Northport and join the Imperials.  He would have plenty of chances to kill as many of the dirty Norðurs as he could ever possibly want; and this thought made him smile. 

It was the predawn hours and the High Elf found a nice spot to wait for the Imperial ambush on some Uppreisnarmaður troops. I can start to prove my worth early. As the hours passed, the High Elf focused on remembering his spells and making sure all of his blades were easily accessible. The movement across the road in the trees was as obvious as it could be; the battle was to be joined. He drew his elven blade and got his flame spell ready as he moved through the trees to the small opening beyond.  That’s when all the hells broke loose. 

He watched as a group of Uppreisnarmaður came out of the woods and mill around in the opening.  The Imperials came out in force, from the other side of the woods. Now is the time! He decided to lash out with a fireball, and then line up his lighting spell to finish any Norður survivors.  But, as fate would have it, his aim was slightly off, and it landed into the beginning clash with both sides caught in the explosion.  

Damn! That should not have happened. Well....... I guess the Uppreisnarmaður have more to answer for. The High Elf charged out into the battle, seeking as many Uppreisnarmaður out as possible. The lightning sprung from his fingers, his sword arm swung away at the various enemies before him. As they fell before him, he grew more empowered to keep on killing. All Norðurs must pay. His hate was being transferred into his stamina and fighting.  That’s when he noticed the Orc female wading through the battle.  She almost danced from opponent to opponent, leaving none alive in her wake. 

Her skill is almost entrancing. Apparently too much so, as the High Elf found himself surrounded by Imperial soldiers demanding his surrender.

Wait, I am here to help you. He pleaded.

You killed my soldiers with your irresponsible magic, Elven scum! The Imperial officer reached out and slapped the High Elf hard with an open fist. 

But sir...... Another slap from the Imperial.

I object! This strike came in the form of a closed first.

Enough out of you scum! Keep silent and I won’t kill you here and now! The Imperial struck the High Elf one more time before turning to another Imperial solider.

Cover his mouth, he’s a mage. Bind him and load him on the cart with the others.  Feel free to take any gear you want, he won’t need it. With that said the High Elf was led away towards his final fate.

The Scamp skipped as she moved up the road towards Norðr, The lure of ancient Norður tombs and Dwarven ruins should provide more than adequate spoils to endure the harsh climate. Even Land’s End never got this cold and it’s only fall! As soon as this thought entered her mind it was gone.  All the tales she had been told over the course of her life led her to the here and now.  The Dwarves had disappeared a very long time ago, but they had left behind wondrous machines and technology, or loot as she called it.

There had been many months of dodging bandits and keeping hidden as she had worked her way here.  The Scamps' best weapon had always been her wits, and they had once again proven invaluable during her travels. Why she had taken the long route was just the way the Scamp was. Why take the easy way, when there might be sooooo much more booty going the long way. And booty there had been. She had borrowed some gold from some Ignomian traders she had encountered, and used said gold to buy what she needed from said same Ignomians.

Several caves along the route gave the Scamp the opportunity to acquire even more loot on her way north. Gotta be a town nearby where I can unload some of this. There were towns everywhere, and the Scamp had already made her share of good deals.

She stopped skipping when she saw the smoldering cart along the road. Well...... someone messed up, prolly crossed the Imperial. Or the Uppreisnarmaður, depending on whose cart this was. The Scamp moved more deliberately now, not wanting to get jumped. She was extremely happy that her chain boots were enchanted with a muffle spell, so she stuck to the tree line as well as she could.  But she knew whoever had done this was not far away. There was a smell of blood and fire in the air.  

That’s when she came across the battlefield.  The crows were already starting to pick at the bodies that had been left in the late fall sun. Must be the Imperials if they left all of these Uppreisnarmaður. Her pace slowed even more, although Imperials didn’t outright hate Enders, but they were not on the best of terms. As the Scamp moved up the road she became more and more pensive about going forward. But the lure of all that treasure in Norðr kept her going.

As she moved out of the trees into a clear path of road, she was immediately stopped by two Imperial soldiers.

Halt, why are you here? What is the nature of the trip? The soldier towered over her, and the Scamp was not sure her usual charm was going to work.

I am just passing through on my way to Nurhome. I am just a traveling merchant peddling my wares. She looked down at the ground and twisted her foot back and forth on the road.

How do I know you are not an Uppreisnarmaður or Batarn informant, bringing information to them about our troop locations and movements? You Enders are not the most loyal bunch. The soldier made sure to accentuate the last statement.

Flabbergasted, the Scamp lost her composure, maybe for the first time. Why..... What? I’m just a trader, not a spy. How ...... who? Just let me go and you’ll never see me again. 

That’s what I’m afraid of, you’re coming with us. The Imperial motioned over to two other soldiers. Take her with the rest. 

So the six were rather unceremoniously dumped into the cart and their fate in Sangoran. Little did anyone in the caravan know what was to happen there and how the repercussions of that day would resonate through the ages.

Chapter Two - The Protector

Fred ran, for never in his life had he seen such wanton slaughter. He ran until the din and noise of the death behind him was out of earshot. Although the screams of the people and the roar of that dragon would haunt his dreams for years to follow.  The dragon had flown north, towards his village and family.  There is no time to lose; it will still take me two or three days to arrive. As the sun began to sink, Fred slowed his pace and realized that he had come far further than he thought. 

His breathing was labored, his body bent over and his hands rested on his thighs.  It was then he realized he was wearing nothing but his tunic, pants and a pair of leather shoes.  I need shelter for the night. Clear and cold from the looks of things. But nothing to make a fire with even if I wanted to. Fred looked around until he found a suitable small cave just off to the side of the road.  Although he did sleep, it was not at all restful or relaxing.

The next morning was crisp, and the slightest hint of frost was one the ground. Fred gathered a few berries and started back up the road towards home. There is a shortcut up ahead that will cut hours off of the trip. As Fred made it way closer to the crossing he needed, the three armed men turned toward him. 

The three men spread out across the road, effectively blocking the way past.  The man on the left was slight in build and dark in color, probably a Tal Mingi. Even though he shuffled from foot to foot, the man's eyes were ready, as if waiting for a signal. He’s the dagger man, Fred surmised. 

The man on the right wore almost no armor, and his face was covered in scars, almost as a sign of pride. There was a large two handed hammer slung across his back, and he stood with his arms crossed facing Fred. The stupid muscle, Fred noted to himself. 

The leader of the three stood in the middle, short sword and shield easily accessible to him.  He was covered in armor from head to foot and would be a formidable foe on his own.  Hey Norður! Where you going? There is a toll to cross the road here. He stuck his thumb out over his shoulder in the direction of the road behind them Fred stopped for a moment.

Do I appear to have any coin on me? I came from Sangoran; it was destroyed by a dragon. He spread out his hands to show how his clothes were so shoddy as to not even have pockets. If you do not mind, I will be on my way. Fred began to move forward again towards the fork in the road.

The bandit leader reached for his sword. In fact I do mind. You see, this is our here corner and everyone pays, one way or the other. Fred noticed as the little man reached for his belt and the large man pulled his hammer out.

If you ain’t got no coin, then we are gonna need to beat you up just for a larf. With a slight tilt of his head the large and small man both charged in Fred’s direction.  Several knives flew from the belt of the smaller man as he moved forward.  

Years of farm living and militia training had helped Fred assess this situation, but he had never had to fight three bandits in just his skivvies. He knew he needed to take these two out quickly, because any sign of weakness would be exploited by the bandit leader.  Fred did have an idea right then though, and would trick the leader by creating a false tell of his strikes.

Fred knew what he was going to do even before he did it. The knives came at Fred with speed and rapid succession. The first grazed his shoulder, cutting through his tunic as well as the flesh underneath. Fred was able to duck away from the second, but ever so barely as it flew just past his right ear. The third was a different story altogether. By now Fred had figured out just how quick the knives were flying and timed his response accordingly. He was able to pluck the third knife out of the air and stuck it in his belt behind his back for now. That’s gonna be the one.

As soon as he caught the knife, the small man was upon him. Daggers in each hand he made a leaping strike at Fred. His motions seemed to convey that this was one of his most favorite moves. At the height of his jump Fred grabbed the small bandit and used his own momentum to throw him out of the way. 

As soon as he threw the smaller bandit, Fred knew the large bandit would strike. Standard Procedure. Fred reacted by using the momentum of the throw to roll a somersault and regain his footing a few feet away.

As Fred turned to face the large bandit, he was somewhat satisfied when he saw the hammer planted in the ground where he had just stood.  Closing the ground between them, Fred began a flurry of punches at the large bandit. After several blows landed, the large bandit began to smile and simply swatted Fred away. 

Fred was amazed at how quickly the small bandit was on him as soon as he hit the ground. The dagger he brandished was plunged into Fred’s shoulder, right near where the knife had hit earlier. Fred grunted in pain, struggling against the strange strength that this man seemed to have.  

Now Rolo! Kill him now! The small bandit said to the large one. He was already on his way over though; hammer high and ready to kill. Fred knew he had one chance at this. When the hammer started to fall, Fred used all of his remaining strength to roll just enough to put the small bandit's head in the line of fire. 

With no time to react the small bandits eyes widened in sheer horror knowing what fate held for him. The sickening splat and the loosening of his grasp gave Fred a small bit of hope. The small bandit's head was completely destroyed, and Fred found himself covered in blood, bone and brains. He quickly pulled the dagger out of his shoulder. At least now I have a decent weapon.

KARNA!!!!!! The large bandit had gone berserk at the sight of his dead friend. Rolo looked directly at Fred and drew out a fine Orcish blade, aiming to finish Fred off.  Pushing the corpse of Karna off him, Fred rolled to the side and attempted to gain his feet. Rolo had just walked alongside as he moved; as a cat toyed with a mouse. Fred was finally able to stand up, dagger in hand in time to see Rolo strike with the sword. There was barely time to parry the attack off and look for an opening to strike.

And he found one as Rolo overextended himself in his lust for revenge. Fred struck; stabbing him several times in the back before Rolo could even react. Rolo swung wildly at Fred but started to stagger from the various exhausted efforts to kill Fred. Easily able to duck the blows, Fred finally found the opening he needed, killing Rolo with a stab wound directly to his neck that staggered him and sent him to the ground.  That’s when Fred felt the exhaustion start to set in.

The slow clapping that followed reminded Fred that he was not out of this yet, You not only lasted longer than I thought, but you killed the two best sidekicks I ever had. The lead bandit stopped for a moment and seemed to reassess Fred.  Fred felt the blood coming out of the wound on his left shoulder.

He knew it might not be long before he bled out. He grabbed the orcish blade as he waited for the bandit to make his move.  Ok, so here is the deal, kid. You can work for me to replace these two out of your own free will, or I can beat you to a pulp, save your life and repeat until you do decide you want to work for me. What’s it gonna be kiddo?

Neither of these options appealed to Fred. I have to get home. Now. I guess you are going to have to kill me. Because I am heading to my home, and you will not stop me.  Fred held up the orcish blade in one hand and the knife on the other.

Brave, but stupid. Well, there will always be more like you around. With that the bandit drew his elven sword that seemed to have a strange glow, and his shield. May you die well.

They circled each other for a few moments, assessing each other and looking for weaknesses.  Fred knew he was in trouble, unarmored, bleeding out and dizzy from getting slammed in the face. While the bandit was fresh, Fred was breathing heavily. The bandit raised his shield and moved in on Fred, making test strikes with his blade to look for openings. Fred parried these with ease, his years of training making this seem like instinct to him.

The two men worked around each other and the strikes got faster and faster as well as more intricate.  The bandit nearly caught Fred in the right shoulder, but Fred’s counter strike nearly got the bandit in the neck. Before he could reset, the bandit slammed his shield into Fred’s head, staggering him back and nearly knocking him down.  As he was able to look up again the bandit was on top of him, and it was all Fred could do to only get his shoulder grazed by the elven blade. The wound immediately started to burn. Poison. Great. Gotta end this quick.

Fred decided to play possum and suck the bandit in.  He dropped to a knee, and pretended he was really at the end.  You did your best, but unfortunately you gotta die. The bandit raised his sword over his head to bring the killing blow. Fred sprung up at this exact moment, drove the orcish blade into the gap in his armor and planted the knife into the bandits’ eye.  He screamed as he staggered back, dropping his own sword and trying to pull the knife out of his eye.  Fred raced over; pulled the knife he had caught earlier, and slit the bandits’ throat. 

Fred knew that he did not have long, between the bleeding and the poison he could pass out at any moment. He rummaged through the corpses, looking for any potions or salves that might help him stay awake and alive. Finally! He found a backpack full of potions. Fred quickly drank a potion of healing and cure poison. He made the best he could with his shoulder, stopping the bleeding by cauterizing the wound. 

With that done, Fred sat for a moment to catch his breath and his wits. At least I have some armor and weapons again. That should help out. Fred started to strip the bandits and pick the equipment that he could most use in his trek home.

He ended up using the chief bandit's armor and poisonous sword, as well as stowing the daggers, knives, and the war hammer into his pack. Fred slung the shield over his back, picked up the backpack containing the potions. There is still plenty of daylight, I must continue moving. Fred crossed the turn toward his village and began to run again.

The next day or so was relatively quiet; Fred had the chance to gather various herbs for alchemy as he moved towards home. There were a few more bandit encounters, but these fell much easier than the first group. Much easier with equipment and rest. Fred had collected more armor and weapons to sell, hopefully to replace what he had last at Sangoran.  By the third day of his trek, Fred was mere miles from home. And that is when the horror set in. 

He saw smoke rising from the general direction of his village, and Fred doubled his pace to get there as fast as he could.  When he broke the final turn to be able to see home, all he saw was burning houses and screaming villagers. But the worst vision Fred saw, a dragon burning and eating his home. NOOOOOOOOO! I have to save them! Fred pushed himself to his limit to get to the beast.  All Norður children had heard tales of dragons, but no one had seen them in millennia.  All of that fear was replaced by hate and vengeance as he drew his weapons and confronted the beast. 

The dragon was a ruddy brown color. Its scales gleamed against the daylight and the motion of the beast. It was easy to tell it was not designed to walk on the ground, with its wings acting as very poor arms. But its sheer size made it easier for it to just grab whatever was near it, as it was doing to Fred's village. His rage only grew the closer he got, the bodies of the dead frozen in place, Livestock, people and buildings were all frozen or destroyed by this beast. I will slay you! These are your last victims! Fred had the orcish sword in his right hand and the poisoned elven blade in the other, he was upon the beast. 

He jumped in the air, and as he came down Fred drove the blades into the leathery skin of the dragon's wing.  Fred was thrown backwards as the beast roared and yanked it wing free from the swords.  As the dragon turned to face him, Fred had barely gotten to his feet.  The next thing he knew he was engulfed in frost coming from the dragon's mouth.  Fred pushed himself forward against the odds, and managed to drive the poison blade into the lower jaw. 

The beast became outraged. Its head pulled away from Fred, and it appeared that the dragon was going to attempt to fly away. Fred swung both blades viciously, slashing and hacking at the dragon wherever he could.  But he noticed that the dragon could not fly, its tattered wing preventing it from gaining ascension.

Now the dragon tried to back away from Fred, and he knew to press his advantage.  He moved back out toward the injured wing and pushed his blades through again.  The beast was beginning to lose its strength; it was starting to lean to the side with the injured wing.  Fred continued his onslaught. He lost track of time as he stabbed the beast, its scales no longer gleaming.  

He did not know long the beast was dead for, but his fatigue made him stop and notice that the beast was dead. Then it happened.  A language from ancient times filled his head. Words.......so many words. Fred could not comprehend it all. The pain was incredible, and when Fred went to express this it came out as a loud scream, shaking the ground and moving the dragon away from him.  Fred dropped both blades and fell to his hands and knees. His breath was gone as he looked around at the destruction, but his vision faded out and he collapsed.

It was night when Fred awoke, every muscle in his body hurt, and the rush of the encounter all came back to him at once.  The village was gone, its inhabitants dead or worse and the livestock either fled or were killed. 

After finding his pack Fred took a drink from one of the potions of healing that he had. He checked himself for any major wounds, and patched up what he could.  He collected the rest of his gear and settled in for the rest of the night. Using the dragon's corpse as shelter, Fred built a small fire and fell asleep.  When he woke the next day, much of his physical pain was gone, but not the pain of what he had seen the previous day.

That was when he realized that it was his stomach that hurt, as Fred had not eaten since before the encounter at Sangoran.  He rummaged through the packs that he had collected and Fred found just enough to satiate his hunger.  Fred then proceeded on to his next task, burying what villagers he could find, and getting rid of the bodies of the livestock. 

As the days passed, he started to bury the bodies of the dead; also make sure that he could survive whatever he faced ahead of him. Fred had managed to get what meat he could from the livestock before burning what was left of the animals. Most of the meat he could jerk, but this took many of his nights. But every day he could still see the bodies of the dead strewn about the area. This is when his life's calling came to Fred.

For each body he buried, he would save a thousand fold more.  With each gravestone he marked he swore to Torga that Fred would give his life to save that of the innocent or defenseless. His anger was deep and broad, almost like the ocean that was the Sea of Sorrows north of Norðr. And just as cold and dark. The stench that pervaded the air over time made all other life, except the vultures, steer quite clear of this area. 

The only exception was a tall lanky albino, who gave Fred a good long stare as he moved along the road. This too led Fred to understand that no matter the cost, no matter how long he would avenge his village.  He packed up what he could carry, looked back once and left his home forever.

The years took Fred all across Norðr seeking the best masters for his craft, whether it be weapons, enchanting, blocking or even alchemy. He trained hard, and never once let his guard down, never giving up on his people from his village. 

Fred constantly trained himself in battle, whether it was bandits or dragons, he fought them all.  Clearing dedmunch from their holes as well as other long dead beasts, Fred carved a path across Norðr.  He bought houses in all of the major cities, stocking and equipping them with everything he would need for his mission.  Freds name became well known throughout all of the counties, and his reputation made him the target for a great many would be champions. 

Then one day as he sat in his house in Northport he realized it had been ten years since that fateful encounter at Sangoran. What made me think of that? He was due to work with a Mahilqitat trader in order to ensure that a nearby village got what it would need for the coming winter. 

Fred usually never wore his armor in the city, but for some reason today, it felt right.  Fred made his way past the Imperials, the armorer and the fletcher before the messenger found him. 

Good day Sir! I have a letter for you. Let me see now.... the messenger checked through his belongings, Ah here it is. He handed the letter to Fred and moved off.  

The note read as follows: Fred. It is time. Come to the Windcry Inn in Wintersun as soon as you can. The fate of Toochar itself is at stake. The six of Sangoran must save the world.

Chapter Three - The Thief

As soon as the chaos broke out, Berm knew he had his chance to escape.  Quickly breaking free of his bonds, he scrambled among the people and wreckage to find some gear before he left. By the time Berm had made it to the edge of town, he had managed to acquire a bow, dagger, and most of a set of leather armor. 

He quickly made his way through the trees along the road heading away from Sangoran. What the hell was that! Gonna keep moving to Melaka for now. Berm continued southeast along the edge of the road.  As the noise began to fade into the distance, Berm felt more comfortable and relaxed his guard.

Berm moved down to the road and continued on his way. Keeping his attention sharp, he watched intently for any signs of pursuit.  He also looked to the sky from time to time hoping to catch a glimpse of the dragon again. Dragons....... The real stuff of legends. It’s been thousands of years since one was seen. Why return now?

Keeping his pace steady, Berm would be able to make good time to the nearest town.  Suddenly Berm felt a sense that he was being watched. He stopped dead in his tracks and began a full scan of his surroundings. He had made it half way across before he was surprised by a voice.

Hiya! The female voice came from directly behind him. As fast as possible, Berm spun bow in hand to face his attacker.  Berm was stunned to see a short Ender woman facing him, also carrying a bow and dagger.  But the real shock was the fact that the only armor she wore was a pair of chainmail boots. 

Not here for any trouble, hoss. Think we are going the same way. Thought it would be more fun with some company. She stood with her hands on her hips. This one is not a threat. Odd maybe, but no threat.

You got a name? I’m Berm.

Skippy is the handle.

I imagine that you were back there too, Berm pointed toward Sangoran,based on your present attire. I am headed to Melaka to see what is there, and decide my next steps from there. You are more than welcome to accompany me. Berm began to walk down the road again, giving Skippy the option to come along or not.

Yeah I saw that ...... thing. Do you think it was really a dragon? Could they be back? I thought that dedmunch treasure and Dwarven ruins were the best I would find here. Skippy fell in alongside Berm and continued to pepper him with questions about everything.

Yes it was a dragon, so apparently they are back.

Are you a real Egur?

Yes, I am from Egur.

Do you eat everything?

No, I disagree with my people on some things.

How old are you? Don’t your people get to be really old?

I am three hundred and ninety years old. My people, all mer actually get to live much longer than humans, not Mahilqitat, Imperials and the Ignomians.

"I’M an Ender though....... I have some elf blood in me too!" Skippy seemed taken aback by this statement, almost defensive of her heritage. 

No offense meant, my young friend. You will probably outlast most humans. As long as you don’t get into too much trouble.

Skippy rolled her eyes. I told you I was going to fight dedmunch and old Dwarven stuff! I am here for the cash! And some fun if I can find it. 

Berm eyed her again, You do intend to upgrade your present kit, yes?

Another eye roll. Well duh, old man. Can’t crawl around in ruins in my underwear........well I could, but it probably wouldn’t go well.

Well, yes........ I suppose you could. This banter continued all the way until the pair finally arrived in Melaka. Skippy hardly noticed, but Berm noticed the stares they received from the citizens of the town.  A short Egur man with a slightly taller Ender wearing and what they wore, or not as the case was. They finally made it to the Trail’s End Drink, the local tavern.

Remembering that he hadn’t managed to get anything of value from Sangoran, Bern turned to Skippy.  The one thing I forgot to get in Sangoran was anything of value to sell. 

Skippy reached into her tunic and produced a small bag. She handed it to Berm. This should cover us; a lot of those jerks in Sangoran kept bumping into me. So I decided to take some coins as payment for my pain and suffering.

Berm nodded to her, You are a crafty one Skippy. Very crafty. A broad smile crossed his face, one he had not remembered having in a very long time. The two turned and entered the Trail’s End Drink. That received more stares as they settled down at the bar. Berm spoke to the barmaid in front of him, Two of your strongest drinks and two bowls of whatever is cooking around here.

The two travelers ate and drank for several hours as they exchanged stories about how they got to Sangoran, where they were headed, and life in general. This Skippy is very wise beyond her years. She will do well for herself. A little flighty though. They talked for a while longer when Berm suggested they get a room.

I’m not that kind of girl! Skippy protested.

Berm shook his head, No, no not like that. I think we both need a good rest after what happened today. He asked the barmaid if they had room for rent, and she pointed to the one room that they had available.  Berm paid her the ten gold, and he and Skippy went into the room.

You sleep in the bed; I am used to sleeping on the floor. With that said he took off his armor and used it as a pillow. Good night Skippy.

Fare thee well Berm.  The two laid back and fell into slumber. When Berm awoke the next morning, Skippy was already gone. Makes sense. Seems like kind of a loaner. I hope we meet again someday. Berm put his armor back on and began to pack his gear up so he could start his trip to Laketown. Skippy had mentioned that there was a Thieves Guild there, and Berm wanted to see if that was true and how well it performed. He bought some food for the trip with the money that Skippy had left behind, and Berm had no doubt she would have full pockets before too long on her journey.

Berm took the road out of town and began the long trip east.  It wasn’t an arduous trip, just long. Other than avoiding any soldiers or bandits that he saw, Berm ran into no other people on his trip.  He knew better than to tussle with anyone right now as he was just not prepared to take on any large groups of people. 

After a full week passed he arrived in Laketown and began his journey with the Thieves Guild.  Five years passed as Berm climbed the ranks of the Guild. His natural skills combined with his willingness to learn had helped him become one of the most trusted members.  Berm had helped to make the Guild a lot of gold during his adventures and the jobs he had been assigned.

He had been lucky enough to run into Skippy a couple of times. Once they were even raiding the same set of ruins, and they worked together to claim the treasure and split it fifty fifty.

When he found out the real truth behind the Guild's troubles, Berm acted to rid the Guild of the traitor once and for all.  Once done, the rest of the Thieves Guild elected him as its head. Berm promised to bring the Guild back to its full glory, not just in Laketown, but in Norðr as a whole. 

The following five years saw Berm and the rest of the thieves refill the coffers that had been pillaged and start to export their skills out further into Norðr.  It had taken a lot of hard work, and a great many bribes, thefts and threats to reestablish the Laketown Guild as the best in the land.  And Berm had personally profited from this greatly, buying Stonehome and getting to be a Lord for the city. He also had a close personal relationship with Lady Torkana, and having such an ally made much of his work easier.

But now Berm was going on his riskiest mission yet. Torkana had set up a meeting for him with some representatives of Myrkt. Berm was hoping that maybe they were interested in opening a new branch in one of their cities. He still had reservations though as he got his armor and weapons ready for the trip.  Not that I don’t trust them, but....... I don’t really trust anyone.

As he exited out of his house, Berm looked directly across the river to the center of town. That is where he saw the albino staring back, his red eyes almost seeming to pierce Berms soul. After being locked into the stare for a few long seconds, Berm broke contact and headed for the stables outside of town. When he took a quick glance back, the albino was gone. Mind playing tricks on me again.

The road to the meeting was relatively quiet and uncrowded.  He passed several caravans of Mahilqitat, some of whom he stopped to trade with. It reminded him of the poor mage he had seen years ago, and he wanted to help these people as much as he could.  Coming up to a small grove of trees, Berm noticed that there was an Ignomian standing in the road, as if he knew Berm was coming.  He stopped his horse just feet from the Ignomian.

Can I help you, fellow traveler? Berm asked sarcastically.

I have a contract for your life, and I aim to collect. The Ignomian shifted back and forth on his legs, as if readying himself for combat. Berm outwardly sighed.

If that’s how you want it. Berm slid off his horse and looked the Ignomian over. With a flick of his wrist it was over, the knife planted in the Ignomians throat. Berm had made sure to poison all his blades prior to leaving town. The Ignomian frothed and gagged for a moment before he fell to the ground dead.

Berm searched the body, took the coin he found and the bounty letter the Ignomian had been carrying.  The Assassins Guild wants me dead? Who would pay that much to kill me? The answer was simple though, everyone who had either lost territory or wealth to the Thieves Guild had good reason. Berm saddled back up and continued on his way to the meeting.  

He arrived at the appointed place at the right time and was surprised to see just how many Dark Elf were there. Has to be close to twenty of them. He rode up to the group and announced himself. Greetings friends, I am Berm and I am here at the behest of Lady Torkana. I have a proposal for you.

One of the Dark Elf moved in front of the others. Well met Berm. My name is Govaimir and I have been appointed to speak for the thieves of Myrkt. Your name is well known to us, and we are honored to have you here. Berm slid off his horse and shook the man's hand. Let us sit and break bread as we do business.  Govaimir led Berm to a tent where they