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Note to Readers: So since I did find it easer to write the story first, I'll be adding the choices in later.

Three or Four Days Later.

Several days out from Capital Zarkan, Gregor found himself all alone again, his sole companion a horse he had taken from a careless traveler that had winded up dead on the side of the road with an arrow in his eye socket.

Tall, broad chested with beautiful onyx skin, the big stallion had tried to take a bite out of Gregor, attempting to defend it's dead master. Not that Gregor had been the one to kill the orc, but he couldn't say he would not have been tempted with such a beautiful horse.

Laughing as he recalled his battle with the stallion, he had decided then to call his new mount Biter, and to his surprise found himself attached to the wild beast. Perhaps because it reminded him so much of himself.

Still after those last couple of weeks, he had needed something to take his mind off his troubles, and Biter seemed all too willing to help with that. Charging off the road dozens of times, the stallion had nearly thrown him, before he had shot the stallion a glare, warning him not to do it again.

It was in his opinion one of his best glares, but as always Gregor's mind would wander back to thoughts of those he had left behind. A mixed jumble of emotions between despair, anguish, and guilt, as well as immense relief at being away from them. Not to say he hadn't enjoyed spending time with Khorasan, Myrissa, Serela, and the children. But he had grown sick and tired of carrying that kind of weight on his shoulders. He was a man of the sword, or he had been, and he was determined to be that way again. But of course assumed he had any control over the matter as the woman's voice purred in his mind. “First you will learn to control your powers, and then we shall hunt down, my brother.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, he looked up into the thick mass of grey clouds, the first snowstorms of winter falling down to touch his skin, and turned his mount southward. The land around him, populated with farmhouses that had begun to bustle with renewed life as homesteads were rebuilt by orcs in brown leathers, patrols of armed legionaries that guarded the roads, and newly conscripted orc warriors that had set up camps at strategic locations. Their fortifications dug into the ground, and displaying the banners of the king. Something he would never have expected to see. But having seen what they could do in battle, he couldn’t help but consider what that meant for the world, when he heard the clip clopping of hooves behind him.

Worried that he might have been followed, his hand instinctively went to the greatsword on his back, and felt the blade warm at his touch, memories of Serela, creeping into his mind.

...Coughing as he realized that his throat was dry, he asked, "Why? Why are you giving this to me?"

Cheeks reddened with embarrassment, Serela adjusted her shawl, and replied, "You saved my life, Gregor, and although you may be the biggest most reckless buffoon I have ever met in all my years. I never thanked you, boy. Besides," touching his chin with two fingers, she looked deep into his eyes. "You will need her." Her face almost glowing unnaturally in the darkness, she turned away from him, leaving him staring after her yet again...

Head shaking again as a particularly strong gust of wind blew the cloak out from his grasp, he shivered, and wrapped the fur cloak tighter around his shoulders, when five riders trotted up beside him. At their lead, none other than the proclaimed hero Lord Gauldryon, followed by his four companions, a battle scarred black bearded dwarf, a big human female warrior, an elf with a bow strapped to her back, and an impish gnome that carried a blackened staff.

Startled as he stared after the man in his polished steel plate, Gregor felt his veins bulge with rage, his lips froth with drool as he bellowed, “You!”

The look of shock on the young lordling’s face, almost enough for Gregor to lose his mind as he whipped his horse into a charge, greatsword leaping into his hands as he swung for his head, and yelled, “you thieving bastard! You stole my gold!”

Reacting much faster than Gregor anticipated, the warrior pivoted in his saddle as his companions quickly whipped into action, an arrow flying past Gregor's cheek, and blackened staff whirling with crackles of energy, when the lordling held up his arm."Hold!"

The warrior then dropped out of his saddle, his arm pulling free a emblazoned kite shield, and drew forth a longsword as he smiled. “Do I know you, sir?”

Too blinded by his own rage, guilt, and jealousy at the sight of the man with his glorious mane of golden hair, sea blue eyes, and smooth golden skin, Gregor said nothing, but jumped off of his horse to attack. The blonde haired warrior’s friends pulled back to create a ring as Gregor faced off against him.

“You thieving, filthy bastard! You stole my gold!” Gregor spat again as he moved into a light stance, his form a blur of movement as he launched consecutive strikes, Lost Flame flowing in the air to meet careful parries as the golden haired man smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth that made Gregor all madder. What right did this man have to steal his glory, gold, and reputation? This jumped upped nobleman who didn’t understand true pain, suffering, who pretended to be a hero.

The last thought forced him to swing much harder and faster as the warrior easily rolled aside, shield slamming into Gregor’s chest with enough force to knock him back, when a bright light blazed into his eyes.

Acting on pure instinct, he switched to the more defensive balanced stance, and countered slashes, his body reflexly anticipating each strike, and heard the lordling grunt in surprise when Gregor’s greatsword blasted him backwards, denting his shield.

Blue eyes glinting dangerously, the man smiled again, held up an arm to stop his friends from entering the fight, and tugged free the helm from his saddle. Slotted over his head, his piercing gaze looked at Gregor through the slot, and waved an arm forward for him to continue.

Confident now that he could best this goat herding puke drinker, Gregor spun into another powerful attack sequence, when something struck him hard in the side of the head, and he was falling to the ground…

Waking up around a campfire on top of a hill, Gregor winced in pain at the back of his head, and felt a moment of shock at realizing that he had been beaten, when the man spoke up from across him. “You fight well, perhaps better than any man that I’ve ever faced. What is your name?”

Head still shaking at the unexpected loss, Gregor spat back, “you cheated! Your armor is enchanted!”

Smiling as the man chuckled, he replied, “So I did, but I think it fair, considering the blade that you wield. There are few in this world like her.”

Flamelight shifting to reveal the huge form of the barbarian woman, she looked down at Gregor, her dark brown eyes cold as she snapped, “Lord, why do you waste time on him? We should be rid of him.”

Hand waved upward placatingly, Gauldryon grinned back at her. “Be easy, my friend, this is the one that Khorasan sent us to find.”

Eyelids twitching at the name of the elf, Gregor wondered at what game the mage was playing with him, when the dwarf rumbled into the clearing, his bearded face shadowed by the darkness as he grumbled, "looks like we gotz us some trouble, boss, a bunch of ogres have taken over a nearby farmhouse, might be planning on eaten the family inside."