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But then, as before, violet coloured eyes flashed into the back of his mind, and the memory was gone. “I am sorry Gregor, but you’re still not ready. Hurry, we do not have much time left.” The guilt, fear, and shame of what he had become, gone in an instant, as he stared up into the pale blue eyes of Pelwar. The dwarf’s rugged hard features, covered in speckles of dried blood that had gotten into his beard as he fed a glass vial into Gregor’s lips.

Sucking the red liquid down without ever worrying that it could be poison, he asked, “what happened to me?”

And felt the dwarven cleric press a calloused hand to his forehead, the streets around Gregor covered in dead broken bodies, blackened scorch marks, and buildings on fire. “You get knocked to the head, lad? One of those damn beasties got its claws into yer belly, and ripped your guts out. If it were not for Lord Gauldryon, you’d be a dead man right now.”

Not sure whether or not to be relieved that he had been saved by that upjumped glory thief, Gregor tried to remember what had happened to him? How he had gotten here? When he saw Daria come out of one of a nearby smoking hovels, dragging behind her a squealing orc.

Easily recognizing the greenskin that had led them into this trap, Gregor felt his face flush red with fury as the orc was tossed to the ground in front of Gauldryon. The young knight, still in his full plate armour, was kneeling down beside one of the dead bodies, when he looked up at her with inquisitive blue eyes.

“I found him cowering in the cellar, my lord.”

Hands held up placatingly, the orc seemed to sense his life hung in the balance, and fell to his knees before Gauldyron, grabbed at his hands, and sputtered, “Plish, youss mussht forgivess me. I hash no chosh. The man mash me do it.” The orc’s flame coloured eyes wild with terror as drool dribbled out of his broken mouth.

Staring down at the him with a cool stern gaze, even Gregor had to admit the young lordling looked quite intimidating in his burnished breastplate that still glowed with runes, splattered in blood, and the inside of the helmet shadowed a face carved from stone. “Who is it that told you to bring us here?”

Left cheek twitching as the orc licked his cracked, and broken lips, he looked all around him as though terrified someone would hear him, before he replied, “plish we mush go. He wills hurts us again.”

But despite the pleading tone in his voice, Gauldryon demanded, “who is he? What does he want with us?”

Gibbering his eyes darting left and right, tears began to spill down the orc’s weathered cheeks as he stared all about him utterly terrified. “Plish, I don knowss his name, but he wantsh more likss him.”

Rage suddenly swelling within Gregor, he understood then what this fool had done, the price he had paid for his own miserable life, and was up on his feet in an instant. His greatsword was back in his hand, and he flew across the muddy ground. “You bloody bastard!” The orc’s terrified gaze looking up at him as Gregor’s blade descended, only to be blocked by Daria, her warhammer knocking his blow aside.

Braids soaked in sweat and mud, she confronted him, her gaze cold as ice as Gregor raged, “You would defend him?! This bastard tried to kill us! Admitted to bringing others here, so they could die and be turned! He may as well have slit their throats himself!”

However the tall barbarian woman with scarred dark skin simply shook her head from side to side, her expression unchanged. “That is not for you to decide, butcher. We do not slay the innocents here.”

Hand clenched around his greatsword, he thought about killing her too, when Glindol, Pelwar, and Tileya, rose up to join her, their weapons held at the ready. Bastards! All of them! Could they not see what this orc had done? He had not just led them here to be killed, but to be transformed into one of these degenerate monsters. How many others had he brought here as well? How many lives had been lost because this orc wanted to save his own cowardly hide? It was simply too much.

Greatsword pulled up again, he readied himself to strike these fools dead, when Gauldryon stepped in between them, pulled his off the helmet from his head, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Enough, we must discover the root of this evil, and put an end to it before it consumes the land. We cannot allow ourselves to bicker among ourselves.”

“And the orc?” Gregor asked.

Steel blue gaze turned upon him, Gauldryon replied, “He will live, and face justice under the King’s laws.”

Justice? Gregor wanted to laugh in the warrior’s face, but somehow he hadn't the mirth for it. Fools all of them. Under the orcs, this bastard would be sentenced to a life in prison or eternal servitude, but he would live. He would get to eat, sleep, and see another sunrise. Whereas these people would not see another day. How was that justice?

But even as he thought that, he saw Daria looking at him as though he were the monster here, and he spun away. To hell with these pukedrinkers and their so-called honor. If they wanted to die chasing some fanciful dream of heroism, so be it. They could do that on their own.

~*~

It was not long after that Gregor was riding alone along the road, Biter’s tail swishing from side to side as the first suns began to peek their heads over the horizon. The land awash in a brilliant fiery haze as the air dropped snowflakes from the sky. The first he knew he was being followed was the clip clop of hooves on pavement as he twisted around to see Glindol on his brown pony trotting up behind him. His blue robes pushed up to show his bony white knees as he grinned back at him.

“What do you want, gnome?”

Smiling as he adjusted his ridiculous blue hat, the gnome couched his staff at his horse’s side as he replied warmly, “It is not unknown for travellers to share the road together.”

But Gregor simply shook his head, knowing that the wizard was up to something. And after a while as they crested the next rise into an open valley, Gregor spat, “You know I’m not going back?”

The gnome nodded his head again with another wistful smile, “I know,” before he continued on, "I must say, you do remind me of a lot of a friend I once knew. His name was Jerlak, and back before the Demonic Wars, when the world burned with fires, he was one of the bravest people I’d known. Willing to aid anyone, willing to stand in defense of the weak, the poor, and defenceless, but then he lost his way.”

Sensing that this was some sort of tale meant to teach him a lesson, Gregor urged him mount to go a little faster, trying to ignore the gnome’s words, and take in the wondrous sight of snow floating down from the heavens to create drifts around them, when Glindol spoke up, “he was betrayed, Gregor. Betrayed by those dearest and closest to him, and in that moment of betrayal, he lost trust in everyone. He stopped believing that good really existed in the world, and chose only to fight for himself. And yet he did find true friends, and allies that were willing to die for him. They saw him as a member of their family, and he was reborn again. For you see, he realized he could not exist in this world alone. The world wouldn’t let him. He needed people, and people needed him.”

And despite himself, Gregor looked back over his shoulder. “What happened to him?”

Head shaking sadly from side to side, the wizard replied, “Unfortunately he died in a terrible battle, but you see he realized there was still good left in this world. He just needed to find it. You just need to find it, Gregor.”

Gregor however couldn’t help but think that was a disappointing tale to say in the least. Perhaps if the warrior had remained on his own, he could have lived much longer.

Gazing down the snow laden valley as they began to turn another curve in the road, he caught his first glimpse of Vanclar, and for what seemed like an endless moment, he stared once more at the greatest city in the world. The huge golden wall that encompassed the entire country, stretched out for thousands of miles, and sparkled in the sunlight. It was also the one place in the world where there was no wilderness, but a vast city that had become layered over the years, and up split into three city states. Lunet, Torex, and Valen. Even now in the dim sunlight, it took his breath away, it’s delicate white towers crowning dozens of rich manors, paved stone white streets, and banners that flew the sigil of Vanclar. A drop of blood on a rose with a golden field. It was also home to the vampire nation, or as they preferred to call themselves vanclorens. For they were a new people, reborn on a new world.

It was also there beyond in the far distance, that he glimpsed Dragon’s Perch, a great mountain that pierced the clouds, and where Gregor would find his answers.