You are not dead, and you are quite sure of it, because you always heared of death being somewhat of a peaceful slumber. Instead, your head feels like it is going to explode every second now, the world appears to be one of those carroussels you have visited once on a fair near the Academy, and if your stomach wasn't empty already, it would soon be.

With a groan you open one of your eyes, only to find that the world not only spins like a carroussel, but the flashing lights that dance before your vision also appear to be like the fireworks that often accompany the fairs.

You have no idea how long you were left there lieing, but when you open your eyes again, you stare into a horrific face, swollen and blurred like a nightmare come true.

You gasp and wrench from the hands that suddenly grasp your shoulders, only to find that the sudden movement brings an explosion of pain so far unknown to you into your head, and you cannot help but twist to one side, assisted by the hands, and empty your stomach for good, even though all that comes from it is blood and bile, each spasm calling forth another explosion of pain that makes you wish you were, in fact, dead.

A voice calls something you do not understand, and something cold splashes your face.

When the spasms stop and the pain subside to barely above tolerable levels again, someone holds a wineskin to your mouth, and greedily you take a gulp, only to choke at the brandy that is now in your mouth.

Coughing, and wincing, you try to sit up, and are assisted once again by the strong hands. You look at who is holding you, and finally, through the tears of pain, your vision clears and you recognize the scarred and bearded face of one of the soldiers who looks at you with some concern.

"Some concussion y'got there, lad", he greets you.

An hour later, when you feel well enough to stand up again, though somewhat shaky - the brandy helped greatly to settle your stomach, there must have been something in it - you take in the scenery.

Only three guards - and yourself - survived, but the goblins were nearly decimated, and the few survivors fled.

Lucius Tarchild and J'Arel Whitefang are both dead, J'Arel obviously the luckier of the two.

Both were apparently killed by Farhan Brownhand, the emissary of Alzur, the scarred guard that woke you reports with a scowl. He interrupts his talking, and turns to spit on the ground.

Master Whitefang was slain by a bolt of lightning summoned by Master Brownhand, and Master Tarchild was slain by a darkly enchanted sword the emissary wielded when he attacked the magus.

For some reason, the emissary obviously was in league with the goblin horde, and wanted the trek to be exterminated. However, the guards managed to overcome the goblins in time, and faced by the remaining guards, Farhan slew most of them with his magic and then turned to flee.

Why he did this, the scarred man, who is named Kor, the guards never knew, but they suspect some dark treachery.


You have been unconcious for more than three hours, and it is high time to break the camp, in case Farhan, rested, returns to finish the work the goblins began.

The animals that drew the coaches are either dead or fled during the ambush, and you have little choice but to leave the place by foot in the twilight that announces nightfall.

Kor, obviously a seasoned veteran, is about to order the remaining guards to pack, when he hesitates a moment to look at you.

You kor is a seasoned veteran, and you follow his lead.

As Kor looks at you with the question of leadership in his eyes, you only nod your head to him, and wince at the burst of pain this small movement causes.

Noting it with some concern, one of the other two guards hands you a flask with the same evilsmelling stuff you were forced to drink earlier. Remembering its healing powers, though, you eagerly take a swallow, and the pain clears away nearly immediatley - although the taste remains, and you still not feel yourself.

Seeing you recovered somewhat, Kor speaks to you: "We'll be headin' back to Alzur, the Academy needs ta know 'bout what happen' here."

You cannot but agree, and although the thought of leaving Farhan behind makes you uncomfortable, you know that you at least are in no position to weave powerful spells at the moment.

Within the hour, you are packed and prepared for the long journey back to Alzur.