• Chapter 1

    Many years ago, in the distant world of Gosdima, a land of magic and mystery that resides between the land of elves known as the Fay world, and the chaotic deserts of Limbo, a great war was about to start. On one side there was the Black Skull Society, a mystic group led by Din Conster whose life long mission was to govern all magic. On the other side was the Order of the Raven Court, a large counsel whose members commit crimes to help the land. If one side wins, the land will have peace, but no freedom. If the other side wins, the land will have order, but no leader.
    In the small town of Itar, in the Desert en dy Firos, a master thief and right hand of the Raven Court, a dark-elf named Darkol Pasy was to receive a new aide. He knew that his aide was a young half-elf who goes by the name of Pairo Feaven. Pairo Feaven was a holy man and an ambitious one at that. They were to meet in the local pub, but that was not going to happen as planned.
    “You there, dog fighter. Have you seen this man,” said a young man in a long, dark brown cloak with a large black phoenix on the back and a sword handle sticking out the top. “He has been known to work for the Black Feather Gang.”
    Drawing a katana, growled the man, “What did you call me? I am a samurai of the Great Pack, not a mercenary. You would do good to remember that!”
    “My apologies, good sir, I did not mean to offend you in any way. I need to find this man. Have you seen him? He is a master thief, and the reward is worth three pewter.”
    “I might be able to help you, stranger. That is, if you are not doing it just for the money.”
    “I don't need the bounty. I am Pairo Feaven, a paladin of the Raven Queen. By what name are you known, master samurai?”
    “I am called Kiba Wolf,” said the samurai as he sheathed his sword. “and I can help you find him, Fire Eater.”
    “DON'T EVER call me that, you beast!” yelled Pairo as he drew his great sword from the top of his cloak.
    Just then an arrow with a blue tip hit the ground between the two warriors. Kiba looked up, drew his sword, and said “No time to fight. We have other problems.” As he said that, another arrow hit him in the left arm, passing the armor, spilling his blood on the ground.
    Kiba let out a roar of pain and anger, then said, “The archer who did this is… going… to...” just then Kiba blacked out. “No! Kiba!” Pairo dove to stop Kiba’s body from hitting the ground, but he was too late, for a man in a black cloak and face wrap came out of nowhere and grabbed the unconscious warrior.
    Before he could stop the masked man, a third shot hit Pairo in the hand, making him drop his sword. Pairo left his blade in the street and ran after Kiba. Pario saw it was not a small group taking him, but the first wave of a small army. Pairo grabbed a sickle from a farmer’s cart, called on the Raven Queen, long forgotten goddess of death, and charged in to save Kiba. Like a farmer cutting threw wheat at harvest, his blade struck deep into the flesh, cutting bone, and ripping threw his enemies. As he cut them down he saw that Kiba had revived and was killing his captors the like a ravaging werewolf. Pairo fought as if this was his final act in this world. After the first wave ended, he knelt down and gave thanks for his survival and that of his new found friend, and knew that his job was not over yet.

    Meanwhile at the pub, Darkol Pasy was sitting at the bar drinking a glass of whiskey, waiting for his new aide. “That boy is late and I need to get going. Come on boy! Where are you?” Just as he said that, a rough-dressed Fay-elf walked into the pub and sat down at a table facing Darkol. As the mysterious man from over the mountains sat staring at him, Darkol turned and noticed that the Fay-elf was holding a wanted poster… of him. When Darkol saw the poster, he put his hand on his short blade rapier and just watched the Fay-elf. Darkol looked at the man he could tell that he was not there just for money, but for a fight.
    Just as the bar girl passed the table, the man vanished, then reappeared on the other side of the bar with a knife at Darkol’s neck, then said. “Ya know what I want, don't ya, old man?” Darkol set down his glass, turned to the young man and said, “Not now boy, and never in a pub. How does out back in ten minutes sound to you?” “I'll give ya three minutes. And if ya aren't out there, I'm comin’ in to get ya, 'kay?” said the man as he moved the knife away from Darkol’s neck.
    After Darkol finished his drink, he looked at the door hoping that his aide had arrived, but he was nowhere to be seen. As he stood to leave, he noticed two strange men walk into the pub. One was wearing armor and carrying an odd sword, and the other was wearing a long, torn, brown cloak with the hood pulled down. The one in the cloak pulled out a scroll and showed it to a man in the corner, who then pointed at Darkol.
    Darkol could see that the two men were not who they appeared to be, but he still waited for proof. When they got closer, he saw that the man in the cloak had a skull on his hand. Upon seeing this, Darkol turned to the man on his left and said, “How dare you say that, you drunk ogre!” then hit the man, knocking him to the floor. Recovering from the blow, the man started yelling and swearing in three different languages as he pulled a knife out from his boot. At this, Darkol drew his rapier and yelled, “This man tried to kill me and the barkeep!” The pub broke out in to a fight with the unsuspecting drunk in the middle, giving Darkol the much needed distraction to leave.
    After Darkol got outside, he remembered the upcoming fight with the Fay-elf assassin, and headed to the alleyway behind the pub to meet him. On the way to the back alley, a strange person in a large green cloak with an odd bow stepped out in front of him and said in a woman’s voice, “Drop your sword and move to the wall.” Darkol looked at the stranger and said, “Come on. Do you think that I would be afraid of little pup like you? Now put that bow away, before you get hurt.” As he said that, the stranger notched an arrow and said, “I’m not the one going to get hurt, you daemon elf.” Then the stranger drew back the arrow, pointed it at Darkol and let go, sending the arrow flying. As the arrow left the bow, Darkol saw the face of the shooter for a brief moment, giving away her identity.
    Darkol swung his sword up then down, splitting the arrow in half, leaving a peace on ether side of him. Darkol then stepped in, stopping his assailant from notching another arrow and said, “Leave now, Luna. Leave and don’t let me see your face again, until you have grown stronger in both body and mind. Oh, and tell your Master Din, I said ‘Hi.’”