Each warrior had their reason to risk life, limb or even their very spirits to venture where no one else dared. They were all led here by different desires: Hate, Greed, Adventure, and Pride. Each warrior pressed forward under their motivation, but each knew there was no turning back once they set themselves on this path. They march onwards, putting the village behind them, each step taking them away from their past and into the future.

The adventurers broke camp without any problems and as quickly as they could. Water droplets hung from spider webs and seemed to reflect the first rays of sunlight into beautiful rainbows. It was a picture of peace that was soon disturbed. There was not even a bump in the night if you listened to the way Jeremy was talking. He wondered if all this talk about monsters was something to keep children in line. Ulrok and Rebecca packed the mules, while Kalven and Drovic packed the tents. The Storyteller undid his magic and put the breakfast fire out. They began the trip just as the sun rose over the mountain's ice cap.

Jeremy began to scout the travel ahead of the adventurers. This ridgeline was the highest he would typically venture, and he had never spent the night on it before, constantly pushing himself to return lower down the mountain for several reasons. One of them was always warmer lower on the mountain, and regardless of the season, this mountain always felt cold to Jeremy.

As he scouted forward, pushing off rocks with the leather souls of his boots and his leg muscles tightening and expanding in a flash to rocket the young ranger to the next rock. Jeremy kept pushing himself forward because he wanted to show the others what he could do, but more importantly, he tried to keep Rebecca safe. Jeremy had lost the woman in his life, Jaclyn, and he felt a fever build within him to protect everyone.

As the ranger reached the crest of the trail, calling it a "trail" was generous by Dovic's standards because it was more of a game path towards the water, Jeremy noticed that the way split and planned their next leg of the journey. He headed back with all due haste to guild the others up.

The mountain air was crisp. Rebecca felt as if she was standing on the edge of the world or if the mountain knew something would happen. A soft hush was held in the forest as if even the Evergreens were holding their breath. The tall aspen pines wane in silence as gatekeepers watch the morning crowds pass through their gates. Slowly they march forward into the twilight of the forbidden woods, countless thoughts run through the adventurers' minds, but no one thinks of turning back: their hearts set.

For our young ranger walking away from the only home he has ever known, but with his faithful friend by his side. The rough old dwarf takes this adventure as his chance to reclaim his long-lost honour by protecting his young friend. The rogue changes his lust for power and creates a new future? Behind the rest of the adventurers was Kalven, tears still staining his face and our lost twin trapped in his desire for vengeance. The Storyteller and his daughter are a very odd pair in the middle of the mismatched band. The one wishes to forgo the past and the other to blaze a new future. Each warrior has a different longing rooted in their history, but this mountain will shape their future. Better or worse, their paths are linked.

Their rugged leather boots stomped the dry brush under their weary feet. Our young ranger led the band up the long-forgotten game trail. They must have been a queer sight to the creatures of the forest. A wide-eye squirrel looked on from the safety of its hidden perch; little did they know, another set of eyes was watching the band of would-be heroes as they continued their trudge up the mountain. Those watchful eyes, waiting. The creature's bloodlust began to rise, licking its lips with an eager and hopeful snarl.

As they continued up the mountainside, leaving the warmth of the valley, Drovic looked up at an older overgrown clear-cut that long-dead hunters had created to trap game. He noticed an opening in the tree line, and a spark of something caused him to take notice. Pausing, Drovic tried to take a closer look, pulling out a small spy class from one of the pouches on his belt and noticing a small, old barn facing the south. It was an odd sight, especially for a place where no one lived.

"Look up towards the far ridgeline, have your eye follow the old cut, and at the small clearing, there looks to be a barn of some kind," Drovic informed the other travellers and passed the spyglass between the members of his party.

Ulrok grumps, "For a Human, you sure have sharp eyes. I would not have noticed it until we got much closer without this glasswork of yours. Do you think that is where those Orcs came from? It could be a trap."

"I, for one, want to find out," Rebecca bluster out with excitement, "Traps are meant to be sprung after all; who is afraid of an old barn." She ended her point by pumping her sword arm as if stretching before a battle.

Jeremy stepped beside Drovic and gave him a kind smile, "No one has lived in these mountains for years. This area is even further in than I have travelled. Who could have built that up there, and when?"

Drovic gave Jeremy a playful smirk, patted the young warrior with care on the head, and stated flatly, "The more important question is why?"

"I remember stories of when the valley was first founded. There was a story of a few bands of settlers that braved the mountains before their dangers were common knowledge," the Storyteller began in his usual performance voice. "Their deaths were so brutal and bloody that it has become lore to never travel into these woods."

Kalven shifted with the gear on his back and gave his neck a light crack, "Gramps, stop blowing hot air. This must be the tenth story you have talked about these woods and mountains. Which one is true?" It was not a question that Kalven was asking but a cold statement.

"Regardless," Rebecca smiled, full of youthful energy and lust for adventure, "This is our first clue." Even Drovic felt washed away at the moment from Rebecca's positive energy; it was almost infectious. The Storyteller felt nothing but worry for his granddaughter because he knew stories rarely ended happily-ever-after.

There was a brief pause in the conversation. Jeremy walked to the front of the party; he turned around to face them all. The young ranger stood there and looked at the neat line on the game trail with the pine trees which were bending in the wind. "I agree, we should move with all haste before we lose the light of day, and any enemy would have the advantage over us and investigate. That is why we came up this way," Jeremy proclaimed his support proudly as he puffed up his chest.

"Easy, son." Ulrok prompted.

"We should not risk our lives needlessly," the Storyteller chimed in, trying to support Ulrok's caution.

"You two old fools can rest on your stories and grim outlook; however, the boy and girl are right. It is our first sign of anything in these woods, and I, for one, am tired of walking game paths. This is an opening. It could be nothing, but it can be a starting point to finding the root of our problems. To find the cause of these Orcs and the secrets I came to find." With that, Drovic flashed his cloak and spun his dagger. He began the long walk up the cut towards their first clue. The younger adventures followed behind, while Ulrok and the Storyteller shared a look of concern but brought up the rear with the two mules.

After a few moments of silence and the adventures continuing their march forward, Jeremy remembered something the Storyteller had said. "Hey, Gramps, can you tell me one of these stories you were talking about," Jeremy inquired as he walked behind Drovic, who was now leading the party to the old barn.

With a loud smack on the back of Jeremy's head, "Sure, my boy, but it is not Gramps to you." Jeremy began to rub the back of his head and gave the older adult a brief glare before smiling and letting go of the event with a lighthearted laugh. "You already know the beginning of it. When the valley was founded, originally, there was a small band of labourers, magic users, and adventurers who tried to build small little settlements far in the backwoods. The labourers wanted freedom from lords and unfair taxes, and the magic users wanted space to practice their craft and do good."

The Storyteller waved his hands and wiggled his fingers, "Of course, the adventurers wanted to hunt and track the amazing beasts that lived in the darkest of places."

Jeremy began to laugh, and Ulrok smiled to himself.

"But it was not before long that settlement after settlement began to disappear. It started with the Warlicks and moved lower down the mountain over a few years. One settlement losing contact is one thing, but five in two years was unheard of because these were strong people. Finally, a band of seven travelled the great distance to the Warlick settlement. That was when they found the truth of what had happened to them, or what they assumed happened." The older man paused for a long time.

"What's wrong?"

With a deep breath of sadness, he continued. "They found all the bones picked clean by small teeth marks and then strapped together into a fence. That fence circled the main house, but what the adventures found inside the home was red."

"They read something. What did it say," asked Ulrok?

"No," Kalven stated, "He means it was the colour red. They butchered everyone inside the home. There was so much blood it stained the walls and floor red. No one found out the cause or who had done it. The legend goes that the adventurers could not figure out what beast left the teeth marks." There was a long pause before anyone spoke. The only sound was that of their feet.

"But that was thousands of years ago," Rebecca stated, trying to cheer everyone up.

"Some beasts, or monsters, are ageless. At least that is what my grandmother used to say before my beard grew in," Ulrock tried a weak smirk, "She used to say that true evil lives forever. It is always hungry for more." With that, Jeremy felt a cold run up his spine as if feeling a gaze upon him.

They finally reached the open field on the ridgeline. Looking from the forest's edge, they found a massive corn field. Ulrok explained that the size of the area would require ten men's worth of daily labour to keep this farming level up.

"Look further down the path; there are two other fields, half in size but with different crops. There are what look like beans and squash. If you look closely, the beans are growing up the shafts of the corn stalk, and I can wager that they were using squash on this field before it was harvested. These guys sure knew what they were doing," Jeremy stammered in amazement.

"The boy is right. By my reading, it would take at least ten men to work these fields every day from sunrise to sundown," Ulrok gripping his shield tighter, "I do not like this. This place gives me an unnatural ting, right down to my bones."

"Just what I would expect a smelly dwarf to say," laughed Drovic, "but I agree with you this time. He paused and then looked at the boy, "Life is a struggle. If you can't face it, then stay behind, boy." Then Drovic eyes the rest, "Regardless of how this place makes us feel, we are still above ground. We cannot turn back. We either press forward, or we might as well start digging our graves now. You best believe I will not die this day; can the rest of you say the same? Why did you come if you cannot overcome your fears now? Now look there," he points the way towards the barn. Resting beside it was a small little farmhouse, "If we are lucky, they will be peaceful and have a clue to our current puzzle. If we are unlucky, we slay some unholy creatures and have a roof over our heads this evening."

"If we were lucky, we would not be up on these mountains," Kalven stated, "but a warm meal would be grand before we press onwards.

"Unlucky is what I would wager, but we can kill a few creepy crawlers. Rest up and head the rest of the way tomorrow" with that, Rebecca pulled free a beautiful silver short sword.

"Look, Drovic, we don't have to like each other, but have some respect," Jeremy glared, "I lived my whole life here and not once heard of a family living this far up the mountain. My family were near outcasts for living at the base of the mountain. The townspeople always said we were living at the foot of the beast. These people would be mad to live on the beast. This is not." With that, a raven dived past Jeremy and swooped up towards the house, skirting the rest of the adventures. "Bad omen, a bird of death."

"Easy, my boy," Ulrock patted Jeremy on the back with a short hard stroke with his open hand. "We will never know if we stay here all-day yammering." With a large breath for such a small creature, he pulled free his tower shield from his back straps and locked it into place upon his arm. "You best ready an arrow just in case," he winked.

The Kalven paused momentarily as the others began to walk forward, ready in their battle formation. He pulls a glass flask from his black jacket and prepares to toss the green, slimy, glowing liquid trapped inside the flask. It is content waiting to escape its prison. As the Storyteller walks by, "Hold that arm, friend, keep your centre. The action will begin soon enough." The older man rests his wrinkled hand on his tense shoulder.

"We sound like a band of old women, sitting around a fire getting scared by our own stories." Drovic made a sound that sounded like happiness, "Come on, lads, do you want to live forever!" With that, Drovic tossed his dagger into a spin and quickly snapped it out of the air, and then he began to juggle the knives down the path.

"I wonder; why do they want to live up here? What brought them here? Where are they? We haven't been hiding our presents, and they should have come out by now? They should know we are out here by now. They should. Should not they."

"Jeremy, be quiet and keep an eye out."

"This reminds me of an old hunter's tale about a haunted cabin in the woods, in which the victims of the tormented souls would wander its grounds, "as the old man stretches out his ancient bone fingers towards Jeremy," Owwww," he moaned. Jeremy calmed himself down and rolled his eyes.

Ulrok pipes up, "I don't know about you, but these scarecrows are giving me a ghoulish look." With that, the band of unlikely heroes began to take count of the scarecrows. As they slowly walked down the path, they started noticing these ghostly creations. They counted each one as they passed, reaching up to half a dozen around the end of the corn field. We clad a few of the ghastly golems in what looked like rusty chainmail and faded travel gear, which added to the group's unrest.

"Let me guess," Rebecca quips, "the evil ghost leads lost hunters into its cabin with sweets and cakes."

"Don't be silly, Missy. It is the promise of sweet ale that gets them," Ulrok chuckles, and his chainmail begins to rattle like small little bells.

"But you are right about one thing. Those scarecrows give me the creeps as if they are watching me," Jeremy piped in.

"The boy has every right to be nervous. Nothing has been normal for a long time," Rebecca whispered half to herself and a half to the dusk air.

"Things were never normal for me." With that, the adventures travelled towards the farmhouse in silence. Each member reflects on the events that brought them to this point. The path finally reached the farmhouse. The barn had this timeworn look to it. As if the stone was partially melted and formed into its shape. All four outer walls of the sizeable 3-story barn were made from this flash-heated stone.

The front doors were large enough to allow a large wage to be pulled in and out with a full load without any problems. Above the main entrance was a small loft window allowing the hay to be pulled up and in without the labours having to manhandle it up some stairs. It was a fantastic sight out this far in the woods. The number of hours it would have taken to shape and build this would have been worth it in the cold winters up here. The building was onto itself a small little keep where the people could keep all their belongings safe.

The house, in comparison, was tiny. It was an average dwelling, two stories tall but only large enough for a family of around ten. It was a mix of smooth river stones and lumber. It was not shaped from the odd melted stone. It had a pine roof at a nice forty-five-degree angle to allow the snow to fall free and not break the roof. It only has one window in the front beside the door. The upstairs windows had been boarded closed. It looked like a lovely home. Both Jeremy and Rebecca felt a feeling of longing to be back in the village where this house would have fit in perfectly. Kalven let loose a single tear, haunted by memories of his sister.

The remainder of the travellers stood motionless. They were prepared for an attack, on high alert for danger.

"Hey, do you want to live forever?" Drovic went up to the house and knocked on the door.

A single voice called out.

"Come in, won't you?"