Choice Results are at the bottom of the page. Good luck!

Without the caravan to slow down your progress, you pick up the pace and soon reach the Bridge of Thorbadon. A massive pale grey structure that spans a huge ravine that leads into the lush green Open Plains; home of the Centaurs. Elegant, and carved with dancing elves along the length of the bridge, it is an impressive sight to behold with its four wings sprouting out from all four corners like a triumphant procession for a returning hero. You take a moment to appreciate this great wonder of Coroleya, before looking over to see if there is anyone guarding the other side of the bridge. And to your surprise you don't see a single guard standing watch. Only the long the flat green rolling plains that go as far as the eye can see. It'd be quite the picturesque scene if it were not so dangerous. Walking out in the open with no place to hide, is usually an invitation to be killed. Still, it is curious that there are no Centaurn guards posted at the Bridge to guard entry into their lands. The Centaurs of the Open Plains, usually like to keep a tight watch on travelers that wish to pass through their lands.

A worrying thought, that has you increasing your pace in order to cross over and be miles away from here when an awful stench wafts towards your nostrils. Accustomed to this stench from your time in the army. You realize there must be an army camped nearby, which explains the lack of warriors guarding the bridge. Deciding it would be best to avoid them, you head in the opposite direction from which the smell is coming from.

You march for another eight or nine square miles upon the Open Plains and find not a single decent spot for you to camp out for the night. With darkness fast approaching you have no choice, but to try and get a few winks of sleep out here in the open. Closing your eyes, you stay half-awake most of the night, and when morning arrives you feel just as tired as if you had never slept. As you rubbing your tired eyes, you see dust flying up in the distance and it is closing in fast. With nowhere to run or hide. You grit your teeth and draw your weapon.

Out of the dust emerges fifteen fully armored Centaurs, wielding their famous Centaurn bows. The Centaurs their eyes upon you, close the gap quickly and surround you from all sides. Their bows drawn and aimed at you. The Captain of the Centaurs a wide-shouldered warrior, with fine long black hair and a face cut from steel stares at you. "This is no place for strangers! What are you doing here?! Are you a spy, working for the necromancer?! Answer me?!" But before you can even reply, one of the Centaurs comes up from behind you and lands a powerful blow to the back of your head. Knocking you out cold.

You awake several hours later in a tent to the sounds of arrows thunking into targets, blades being sharpened and warriors bawling to each other. You take one whiff and you know you inside the Centaurn war camp. That's also when you realize you are not alone. Sitting at a table is a well-dressed female elf (Fae'lon), who gives you a gentle smile. "Welcome back to the living stranger, before you ask me any questions, let me first explain to you why you are here? A dark mage named Azkan a former member of the Fae'lon Guardians has taken up residence in a tower not far from here. The Centaurs see this as an affront to their ancestors and have gathered an army to fight the undead that guard the tower's walls. I fear Horselord Orkrelan in his haste to protect his homeland has declared you a spy and will surely execute you on the morrow." Seeing your rising panic, she holds up a slender hand. "But never fear, there is a way out of this for you, and a way to prove your innocence, for words alone will not suffice here. I have within me the ability to transport you into the tower, where you can slay the dark mage and prove your innocence. I also can teleport you out of here and away from the Centaurn army. Which is it you desire?"

Choice 3. Do you try and plead your case before the Horselord Orkrelan who already believes you to be guilty of being a spy for Azkan?

Unwilling to risk your life for a misunderstanding, you shake your head from side to side. “No, I will speak to this Orelan or whatever his name is, and tell him what happened.”

At your words, Sylven’s blue eyes light up with anger. “Are you really that much of a coward that would prefer to risk your life with him! You truly are, fool, you!”

But by then you had already made your choice. The horselords were a stubborn race, but even they must realize that killing you would prove nothing. As for being a spy, what reason would a necromancer have for one if that were true?

Left on your own with a last backward glance from the sorceress, you spend the rest of the day fitfully trying to sleep, hoping that the elf was somehow wrong.

When morning finally arrives the next day, two fully armored centaurs escort you through the still bustling encampment, where you see the columns of horsemen training with spears and bows. The two centaurs with you, leading you towards a large white pavilion at the center of the camp. The well-muscled warrior that awaited you there, wearing ornate silver plate armor and carrying a staff that was covered in runes, his dark gaze staring down at you distrustfully.

Pushed to your knees in front of him, Orkrelan gestures for you to speak. With no real choice now, but to hope he believes you, you say, “My lord, I am no spy. I am just a mercenary traveling to Borathas.”

Face darkened at the words ‘mercenary’, and ‘Borathas’, the horselord roared, “Kill the spy!”

Dumbfounded by the sudden verdict, you leap to your feet, and elbow the centaur behind you in the chest, before stripping the spear from his grasp. The weapon whirling in your arms as you press the tip to the horselord’s throat, and spit, “As I said, I am no damn, spy! Now call off guards! Or by the Lightbearer or whoever else cares to hear! I will stuff this spear right up your backside before they kill me!”

Brown eyes livid with rage, Orkrelen nodded his head, signaling the warriors with bows aimed at your back to drop their weapons and retreat.

Certain they no longer posed a threat to you, for now, you smash the spear but against the side of the horselord’s head, knocking him out, and spirit yourself away through the sea of tents. The roars, and screams of anger that follow you, vanishing away as a slender arm grabs hold of you from behind, and presses a hand to your temple, muttering the words, “Idiot...”

Battle Results

None

Loot

None

Side Quest Incomplete