A piercing howl tore the night, waking Jech from his bed. He slipped on his mocasins and grabbed his candle and slipped downstairs. There was no sign of his father anywhere. Not his usual axe by the door, not the usual aroma of fresh tea at that time. A shiver ran down Jech’s spine as he zipped his jacket on, getting ready to go outside. There in the door is what forever scarred him for the rest of his life. His father’s lifeless body lay in the snow, deep gashes tore his back, his axe cut in half, and a deep hole through his chest. Jech let out a painful cry, which tore the village awake. In a matter of minutes, the town was awake, with dogs barking all around. The mayor and a bunch of men ran to where Jech clutched his father’s body.

“Who could have done this?” the mayor said.

Just then, hundreds of werewolves surrounded the town, rushing in packs of five, killing all in their path. Jech grabbed his fathers axe in the snow and tried to strike down the beasts. But they were too fast for him. He kept missing blow by blow, and suddenly, when the wolves were about to strike him, a group of mercenaries rode from the Orbis tower. Most of them where mages and and warriors, all riding horses into the town. Their leader was wearing a white cap with a W on it, and his head was surrounded by a great blue aura. (GM!!!!) One of the riders swept Jech onto his horse as he threw a lightning spear at the werewolf.

“Who are you?” Jech asked.

“I am the Lightning Mage Tirinous,” he replied.