At the edge of the Shadowlands
A great plain of grass lay bare and featureless across the northern, southern and western horizons. A soft fog hung over the plains like a draping ceiling, obscuring the vision of anyone who might dare to look to the distance. To the east, the gray clouds turned black, the grass turned to ash, and the fog thickened and turned into poisonous vapor. To the east was the boundary into the Shadowlands, where no human dared to venture too far into. It was a place of perpetual darkness, and the further one penetrated, the greater the perils and the evils became until you reached the gates of Hell itself. Not that the rest of the world had its dangers. A cold and viscous world it was, full of greed, lust and wickedness. The inhabitants of this world wouldn't have it any other way.
Everything was still at the edge of the Shadowlands. It was vast, void and empty. So it was unlikely that a wagon creaked along being dragged by two horses where there were no roads. It was even more unlikely that a human was driving this lonely wagon through the grasslands. His frame hunched over, his eyes weathered and weary as the wagon trudged along. His lips were dry and cracking and his skin seemed pale, and his face had aged too much over the past few years. Inside the wagon were his buxom, beautiful and brunette wife and their two young children, who sat around crates and baskets of various loot that the old man had salvaged from some wreckage. The wife did not approve of coming this way, but her husband was also in debt to some powerful aristocrats who were hunting them. This was the only way they could travel northward without having to constantly dodge thugs and assassins. Though, there were much greater dangers if they ventured too far to the east and too close to the Shadowlands border.
The man stopped his wagon abruptly and started digging around in the sack of supplies that sat next to him in the archer's seat. He found an old map and immediately opened it wondering just how far he had to go before he reached the Sea of Serpents. With his finger he traced his path along the border of Grodei Planes and the Shadowlands and estimated that he must have traveled at least two thirds of the way there. He took a deep breath ignoring his wife's nagging and continued on northward where in a day and a half, he should be greeted with the smell of saltwater. He slumped back over and dreamed of the riches he would get when he sold the sacred symbols he carried to the Cult of Qeullin whose temple sat on the edge of the Sea of Serpents. The man's head suddenly perked up as something became somewhat visible in the fog. The man's eyes narrowed and squinted as to his delight, just ahead in the distance was a broken down and more importantly abandoned wagon. He howled with delight, snapping the reigns so his horses would hurry over to the site of the wreckage.
"What are you doing?" The wife hollered out to her husband.
"There's a wrecked wagon, looks old to. There might be some good loot in it." The man laughed.
"We should just keep going; I'm tired and want to get somewhere that we can set up camp and rest!"
"Oh shut up woman! I'm doing business now!" After he snapped at his wife he quickly leapt off of his wagon and hurried over to the broken down one.
The wind began to pick up, and the tattered canvas that covered the wagon began flapping in the southbound wind. It was a merchant's wagon, twice as long as the pilgrim's model which he drove. The front was completely busted down and the back of the wagon remained sticking into the air like the backside of a woman awaiting penetration. The wheels were also badly damaged, and by the holes in the sides of the wagon it could be easily deduced that this wreckage was the result of an orc attack, orcs who lived a little bit into the Shadowlands along with their kin of goblins. This made the man a bit nervous, but this wagon was attacked at least a year ago, and that gave him some comfort. The wind picked up even more, a storm was coming. The sky grew darker and a thunder crashed across the grasslands. The man was determined though, and climbed into wagon through the busted front. The floor was still stable as the wood hadn't rotted too badly. It was dark inside the wagon, and difficult for the man to see. It didn't help that the sky was growing darker by the minute from the on coming storm, but he could make out most of the wagon except the very back, which was obscured by pure black shadow.
The man began his search of the wagon not finding anything; it had already been well looted by the orcs no doubt. Not finding a single item of value in the lighted area, the man turned and began to walk upward towards the back of the wagon. The wood floor creaked under each of his careful footsteps. He neared the black shadowed area and began to reach towards it to feel if there was anything beyond it worth taking. His hand slowly inched towards the shadow, and a chill ran up his spine. His skin began to sweat and his breath began to shorten. Just as he sensed something was wrong, two glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness. The man took a step back, and the last thing he ever saw, was the blades of two hand axes swing from the darkness meeting at his neck.
Hearing a noise come from the wreckage the wife stuck her head out of the wagon to take a peak. She called out for her husband a few times but there was no answer. She climbed out of the back and stood on the drivers seat and hollering for him some more, but there was no answer. Instead, all that came out of the wreckage was her husband's decapitated head that came rolling out and landed in the grass in front of her wagon. The wife let out a shriek and turned to look inside the back to find a halfling holding two knives to the throats of her two children. "Move and the children die" the halfling told her coldly. The wife sat still for a minute before greedy self preservation kicked in and she turned out of the back of the wagon and leapt off of the driver's seat. The halfling quickly slit the children's throats making good on his word and darted out of the wagon as well to give chase to the woman. The wife ran as fast as she could the first direction she faced and looked back over her shoulder to see the halfling following behind. When she faced forward again she ran straight into a large green hand that wrapped around her throat. Her feet flew up in front of her and she was slowly lifted into the air by a six foot five half-orc.
Although not as ugly as full blooded Orc, and having similar facial features to humans, half-orcs still had their massive frame and their putrid green skin color. The half-orcs's arm was fully extended and lifted the woman well over his head. She stared fearfully into his cold black eyes and watched as his long black hair, blew in the raging wind. The creature's free hand reached up grabbing at her clothes and ripping them from her body piece by piece exposing her naked flesh to the open air. The half-orc himself only wore a loincloth with two hand axes hanging from its sides. His hand reached up cupping and groping at her firm breast before being stopped by the halfling.
"Hold it!" He yelled at his companion. "She is worth more on the Goblin Black Market if she is unhurt and fresh. You're too rough with women; you'll bruise and hurt her. Let her down and let me chain her. Then you need to throw the bodies of the young ones into the merchant wagon. I got quick look around inside at their haul, I think we hit a jackpot my friend." The halfling laughed.
The half-orc begrudgingly nodded and dropped the woman to the ground where the halfling quickly ran over chaining her ankles and wrists and collaring her neck with an almost childish delight. Walking away the half-orc looked toward the east, gazing deep into its bleakness.
Dario the halfling and Maultooth the half-orc.
~
The City-State of Kahn (West Gate)
Kahn sat directly west of the Grodei Plains and sat as a gateway between them and emerging Borgo Mountains further to the west. Despite it being relatively small compared with the other City-States where the vast majority of the population resides Kahn was an important on it's own for two reasons. The first reason was its location as the gateway; the Masons Cult used the township for their merchant trades and the second being its library. The library stood at the center of the town on contained the majority of history books written in better ages across the continent. It was an ideal place for mercenaries to come looking for work, and that is exactly what Borden was coming for.
The bald headed mercenary wore chain mail armor and carried a steel broadsword and kite shield with him. He had a long scar down his crown reaching to his forehead, a scar of honor from his battles with the hordes of the Shadowlands. His blade sheathed and his shield strapped to his back the mercenary entered through the open west gate into the city. He had spent much of his time in the wild and didn't care for the cramped feeling of the cities when he could be in the wide open spaces of the country side.
Borden made his way through the crowd of people in the West Market only occasionally stopping to glance at the goods for sale by the various vendors.
