...you do not know for how long you slept, nor why you had been sleeping, you only know that when the voice called out, “I have need of you again...” you answered.

Woken by brilliant tendrils of light that flooded through your eyelids, you try to recall what it was that had awoken you when you find your nostrils assailed by the nauseating stench of piss and vomit that run in rivulets down from the sewer opening.

Groaning at being awakened so soon, you lift up an arm to try and block out the daylight, but the light simply passes through your fingers, leaving you with no other choice but to get up.

Sighing heavily in annoyance, you rub your mud-encrusted cheek and wearily sit up in the muck and dirt with strange memories of last night's drinking game replaying through the back of your mind. You can't remember much of what happened, but you got the distinct impression that you might be in trouble, a not altogether unfamiliar feeling to you. Still, it was curious that you could not recall anything at all after you had left the tavern.

Brushing fingers through jet black hair, you feel a bump against the back of your skull, and can't help but think that something had indeed gone wrong and that it might be best to leave town for a while until you can sort things out.

Checking your pockets to see if you still had all of your possessions on you, you are pleasantly surprised to find your last two remaining gold pieces still on you, as well as your trusty steel dagger strapped to your waist. While not much to live on, it would have to suffice for now. Besides you'd heard news from a local tavern that a nearby village was looking for hunters to slay prowling silver wolves. Dangerous work, but could be worth risk seeing as you were almost out of gold and needed the stones to fill your belly.

Having been working as a mercenary for close to five years now, and before that in the Redling Battleguard, you had fought in King Royan's army, dealing with the giants, cyclops, vampires and dark mages that had plagued their lands.

Army life had been a mostly dull affair for you, patrolling roads, making sure farmers paid their dues and the occasional burning down of villages that refused to pay the King for his protection. Nothing really serious that would bring you a great deal of gold.

Eventually, you'd gotten sick and tired of the screams and joined up with a mercenary outfit called the Wingdarts, who despite their dumb name, paid well enough, and always had plenty of work.

With them, you got to hunt down bandits, take on beast contracts, and go on raids to clear out nests filled with monsters. Nothing where you had to deal with people and their problems. Lately, though your luck had soured, first with the botched prison escape and then the loss of cargo to bandits that had snuck up on you from behind. Both jobs tarnishing your reputation with the Wingdarts who'd kicked you out on your butt. And in a town like this where everyone talked, your only chance of work now was with outsiders.

Tilting your head upwards to stare at the four suns, you slowly turned your attention towards the garishly dressed elves, minotaurs, and redlings that wandered through the city streets of Berlem, a few of them shooting you dark looks of disgust as they passed you by in the alleyway. Their clean-faces no doubt wondering why the hell you were here? And why the town guard hadn't come to arrest you for loitering in the streets like that? But that didn't really matter much to you.

Ignoring their upturned noses and snorts of disapproval, you heave yourself back up onto your feet and leer menacingly at the nearest elf, who half leaps up into the air, smile in satisfaction at his reaction, then turn off down the street. Time to be off.

(Below is a more detailed map of Coroleya.)