Thanks to Cebrious Arcane for inspiring me to become a writer, hope to carry on after him.

Prologue

The rain beat on Archilon's gray hood. His red robe was heavy with liquid and had the stench of blood on it.

His horse lazily galloped along the path of the Fellwood Forest. It looked to it's sides, eyeing the shining scales of animals looking for shelter under the trees.

Archilon's backpack beat on his spine with every step the horse took, his scarred face beginning to lose its gaze as it fell on the stubbing hair of his horse.

He remembered it. They had been peacefully walking along when a marauder bravely jumped from the brush and threw himself in front of the horse. He stabbed Archilon in the skin below his eye. His horse, Valik, rose and thrust him to the ground, breaking his wrist. Valik let out a battle cry and trampled the assailant as it ran off.

The horse had run for two miles before it stopped and Archilon caught up...

His eye had bled for three hours, he was fatigued by the loss of body fluids and pain.

"'Allo there!" a yell came from ahead. A dimmed light came into view through the heavy rain. Archlion drew his dagger and readied himself for attack, the last thing he needed was another attack.

Chapter 1: Welcome to The Blackrock Inn

The splash of water filled the night as the lantern's light got brighter and closer with every sound.

The clouds parted, and ahead in the path the sun began rising over the orange sky. Dew dripped from the heavy grass, and the rain began to calm.

The man looked harmless, he wore a blue coat and long pants, with a loose sack around it's belt. A large pair of leather boots covered his feet. He was bald, and had some sort of shape carved in his head. "You look as though you've been through hell," the man said, staring at Archilon's wound. He opened the belt sack and removed a small book. He began chanting under his breath. Archilon felt tingly, his was about to reach for his wound when the man stopped chanting and said, "Don't touch it, or you'll make it hurt worse than it was before," he began chanting again. The man beckoned him over to a puddle of water. "Look!" Archilon peered into his reflection, and noticed his flesh was healed. "You look tired, listen, I own an inn down the road, I'll let you stay for a few nights for no charge. By the way, my name's Lach," Archilon's healer told him.

The dirt path became stone. "Well, here it is." There was nothing there... "What?" Archilon questioned. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Was that inn just there a minute ago?

A large, single story, building stood in the clearing. It's shadow loomed to the edges of the path. A single light glared in each window. Lach walked to the wooden door and pushed it open. It gave a loud creek as it moved.

Four men sat around a round table in the corner, a bottle of wine next to each. An old woman sat in a rocking chair playing a lute and singing a tune. A young woman sat in a chair behind a bar. "Welcome to the Blackrock Inn sir, can I get you a room, or perhaps a drink?" she said in a cheerful voice.

"A bottle of mead please," Achilon said. "Mable, please get this man a room for the week, he needs his rest," Lach said with a grin. "Here you go sir," the woman said, handing him a bottle and a small key.