A lone horseman quietly journeys through the dark, predator infested woods,
smothering him and his horse. It is clear at first glance that he is fully
prepared for combat: resting on his left shoulder is a longbow of finest
craftmanship; it was carved of silver birch-wood and had an unusual black
band towards the bottom of the bow. The rider himself was roughly medium
hieght and had long black hair held back by a plain black bandana across
his forehead. His build wasn't the largest; his muscles' shape are visible
through his brown garments, but in no way gigantic. It is clear from the
yellowish tone of his skin that he is not from these parts of Sava; humans
here had fairer, whiter skin, and usually had brown hair. He wears a light-
weighted armored breastplate underneath a dark green cloak. On his cloak,
near the left hand side of his neck, is a rounded silver broach with a
sapphire stone set in the middle of it. The amour is of a dull metallic
colour, ridden with a small amount of scratches, presumably from previous
conflicts involving blades of some variety. On his back is a black
scabbard, which was thinner than the average one, a sign that it held no
ordinary sword within it. On his left hip was another scabbard, yet it was
shorter in length, and appeared to be an off-hand weapon. Resting on right
side of his belt is a quiver, almost full with arrows. Each arrow was
tipped by a dull silver head, and appears to be made of a strong iron
alloy. At the end of each one was a brightly coloured set of feathers, with
an eye pattern in the middle. Yet his cloak seems to hide more than be
His dark brown horse seemed unfazed by its eerie surroundings, and trotted
along un-hastened. The trees seemed to bend down on the rider, trying to
clinch him and his horse from the ground, smothered with blood-red leaves.
The sky above is hidden by the colossal-sized trees' canopy, making it seem
like midnight hour all the time. A low, chilly wind swept the ground below
the horse's hooves, disturbing the leaves all around. The air is thick with
the stench of decay; the previous battles left many dead creatures strewn
on the soil below. It did affect the rider though, for he is a mercenary,
and had seen far worse situations.
An opening in the dark forest lies in front of the rider, and the glorious
sunshine fills the land as the horse steps out of the forest. The mercenary
pauses for a moment to take in the fine weather (hardly surprising after
being in such a dark place) before continuing on his journey. On the grass
he rode on is a path made by the thousands of orc soldiers who trod on the
ground an age ago. He thinks about the battle that took place here, where a
vast majority of the orc flank were slain before they could cause harm to
the rest of world in the War of Sava.
In front of his path stood a moldy wooden sign bearing the words:
Looking up from the rider sees that the path ahead runs very close a
village. He continues down the path with no intention of stopping in the
inn; he ate only a few hours ago, and had thoroughly enjoyed feasting on a
succulent quadrig he had hunted in the woods he was in (a quadrig is a
cross between the head of a boar, the size of a bull, a thousand razor
sharp teeth, a spiked back and the temper of a troll; it'll kill everything
that moves. It varies in colour depending on its environment, having very
good camouflage abilities. Tastes much like honey roasted pork). As he
draws closer to it, he makes out more of the details of the village. He
notices that the houses are made of timber, and are roughly 10" tall, which
is a good signal that the village is inhabited with humans.
However, as he passes the village, a short, old man with white hair
frantically runs towards the rider, signalling for him to stop. Although
he is wearing his bedroom robes, the rider immediately can see that the man
is a commoner; the old man is well dressed, as he wears a velvet robe, and
appears to be in great health for his apparent age, if it wasn't for his
panic-stricken face. As the old man reaches the rider's horse, he begins to
talk to him.
'You there! Please, I beg of you, you have to help me!' begs the old man in
between sharp inhales of breath.
'And what makes you think that I can be of any assistance to your problem,
to which I have no clue as to what it concerns?' queries the rider.
'You are a mercenary, are you not? Only a mercenary bears the broach of
The rider is taken aback. It is not common knowledge that the broach he
wears means that he is a mercenary. By knowing this, the rider knows that
the old man used to work in the lines of a large company, or for a wealthy
lord, or used to be one.
'I'm sorry, I'm not working at the moment, and I'm on my way.' Just then,
the rider sees the old man take out a fairly large, brown bag from the
interior of his robe. The kind of bag you'd associate money with. Lots of
money. The rider thinks to himself that the old man is a lord.
The rider continues. '.and no matter how much you have in that bag of
yours, you will not convince me otherwise. I am not hungry for money, nor
do I desire to be wealthy.' However, the old man holds it up to the rider
in his left arm and puts forward his case.
'No! You don't understand! You MUST help me!' pleads the old man. The rider
will have none of it, as the words he spoke were the truth: He is not the
type of person who dreams to makes oceans of money, for he cannot think of
a good reason to have such a large sum of money. The rider turns his horse
away to the path ahead as the old man makes one last plea to the rider's
'Please sir! A life is in danger!' The old man buries his head in his
hands, shaking his head softly. Upon hearing this, the rider stops his
horse. He pauses for a moment before turning back to the old man.
'Is a person's life in immediate danger?' The rider asks the old man.
At first, the old man is slow to react, not fully realising that the rider
is now actually interested in taking up the job. As the old man's face
emerges from his hands, his weary eyes give a very small light, as a
glimmer of hope is now given to him.
'Yes, my daughter is in a dire situation right now. Last night, a raiding
party of orcs came into our peaceful village and started to take things
like food, livestock and such items. We didn't put up a fight, for they had
weapons made for wars, and we had none, and retaliating would only mean
hurting ourselves, so we let them take their goods.'
The rider was sympathetic to this, and judged it as a wise move. He had
rode past a few burnt-down villages with many casualties because the
village tried to protect itself from raids. He knows that orcs nowadays
wish to conserve energy and do not desire to shed blood when they are not
required to. The old man went on.
'but then, one of them went into my house, breaking down the front door in
the process. I was already outside when it did this, and I didn't stop it
from doing so. But when he came out, he had my daughter kicking and
screaming on his right shoulder and a bag of the family jewels in his left
The old man pauses for a moment, and lifts his head up to the sky, his face
slightly twisted in grief.
'I pleaded with the orc, and tried everything to get him to let my daughter
go, but to no avail. I even told him where the rest of the jewels were, but
he did not seem interested. Right then, my son had had enough. He took a
pitchfork resting near him and was about to lunge at the orc when he got
stabbed by another orc. He is being treated now by one of my neighbours
now. But my daughter, she has not been seen since.'
The old man then looks the rider in the eye.
'Please lord mercenary! If you take up this job and succeed, I will give
you all that I physically own, just bring my daughter back alive to me.'
The old man falls to his knees and puts the base of his hands together in
front of him, a sign in Sava that means that he is begging.. The rider
jumps off his horse and lands on the soft grass below. He puts his right
hand on the old man's left shoulder and responds to him.
'Take it easy, old timer. I told you before, I have no desire to be rich,
and I do not wish to leave you sau-less [sau are the currency of Sava,
which rhymes with 'towel'. If it was to be converted into pound sterling,
it would be worth roughly two pounds. The minimum currency is a 'Tenneth
sau' meaning a tenth of a sau, or roughly twenty pence. 'Sau' is both the
singular and plural word e.g. one sau, ten sau.]. Just give me enough sau
to get me some food for the road home when I get back, I get awfully hungry
after physical job.'
The rider surveys the surroundings in depth for the first time. The sun is
low in the East, where he was heading, which makes the woods he came from
West from the village. In the South, the rider notices two large, dark
coloured mountains. In between them is a dark valley, which is always in a
shadow of one of the mountains. An eerie atmosphere surrounds the area, and
a light fog surrounds the area. Between the valley and the village stood a
murky swamp, which is small in size (compared to usual swamps, but it is
still the size 16 football pitches, four by four). Basic instincts and
common sense tells him that the orcs are over there. A quick check with the
old man confirms this, and the rider saddles up.
On his way down to the swamp, the rider sighs. 'Everquest is going to be
mighty furious at me again. I'm going to be later than I told her I would
be again. And I'm bloody going to be hungry again!' Life is hard.