They sat on their heavily armored horses upon a hill overlooking the quiet village of Knoll. In front of them sat their leader, Bradshaw Blight, an intimidatingly large man with the countless scars he earned in battle tattooed across his face, arms, and bare chest. No less than three hundred strong they were. They were undoubtedly the most feared Ruffian clan in the area, spreading terror throughout the towns and villages along the border of Hal?n and The Midlands. They waited patiently and with deafening silence. Quietly preparing themselves for the raid that would commence on Blight’s signal. Among those in the front of the formation was Clyde Freeborn, a seventeen-year-old boy who was captured as a toddler by Blight during a raid and raised amongst the Ruffians. Now, nearly eighteen, Clyde had yet to accompany Blight and his clan on a raid. However, now was the time for Clyde to prove himself a man to Blight and the rest of the Clan.

  Below, the people of Knoll went about their peaceful day unaware of the nearby threat. Life in Knoll was harmonious, with elves and humans living, working, and intermarrying with one another. Even the occasional nomadic dwarf would come by from time to time to sell their wares and restock on supplies. The people of Knoll lived happily and carefree and had no reason to do otherwise. Despite the Ruffian raids on other towns and villages in the area, Knoll had not been attacked in generations. The people of Knoll contributed this to the small size of their village and the low profile they kept. Unless one meant to travel to Knoll, or stumbled upon it due to becoming lost, one was unlikely to encounter the village. Amongst this tranquility, a young half-elven girl named Ferra L? played with her friends in the market. Believing, like everyone else, that she was safe.

  ***

  Blight slowly rode his horse back and forth on top of the hill, observing the village and its people like a hawk. Then, satisfied with his observations he turned to his men.

  “On my signal! Take whatever you can carry and kill anyone who tries to stop you!” Blight paused for a moment to stare at his men. Clyde felt Blight’s gaze upon him and was filled with a mixture of anxiety, fear, and excitement. He had waited all his life for this moment. Blight then turned his horse to face Knoll. “Charge!”

  The Ruffians’ horses sounded like thunder descending the hill towards Knoll. They hollered and yelled battle cries as they approached the village. They met little resistance as they stormed into town, but suddenly found that the people of Knoll were much more capable of defending themselves than the Ruffians initially thought. Though now peaceful farmers and merchants, many of the adults of Knoll had once been soldiers. The greatest among them being Ver’úx Aít, a former battlemage for the Elvish army.[1] Soon the quiet town of Knoll became drenched in blood as the Ruffian raid turned into something more resembling a skirmish between the two small forces. A type of battle that The Midlands had not seen since the last major war between the humans and elves.

  Amongst this chaos, Clyde was quickly thrown from his horse. A novice to battle, he had yet to even draw his sword. He crawled along the ground in a daze covered in mud and blood, the sounds of battle raging around him. As he crawled, he came across the body of one of the young girls Ferra had been playing with in the market. As first Clyde noticed her glazed eyes, blank stare, and pale skin. However, soon he saw that her stomach had been split open and her organs were spilling out of her body.

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  “No, no, no, no, no!” Clyde exclaimed as he tried in vain to save the girl by shoving her organs back into place. Then a loud explosion rang out startling Clyde back to his senses. He stood up and saw a massive simmering crater and the bodies of over a dozen Ruffians and their horses lying in and around the center. Clyde drew his sword and ran in search of a place to hide. He eventually came to an overturned wagon that he could fit under. He lay under the wagon for what felt like hours watching the battle unfold from a crack in the wagon’s side.

  As he watched, he saw the Ruffians slowly gain the advantage over the defenders of Knoll. Despite the defenders’ valiant efforts, they were outnumbered nearly ten to one. Ver’úx Aít, the battlemage, made a heroic last stand in the market square but was eventually overwhelmed and captured by the Ruffians. Clyde watched as two Ruffians dragged Ver’úx by his arms and dropped him at the feet of Blight who was now standing triumphantly in the center of the village.

  “On your knees,” Blight growled looking down upon Ver’úx.

  The beaten and battered elven battlemage looked up at Blight before spitting on his shoes. Blight looked on in disdain before kicking the elf in the head. As the elf lay on the ground barely hanging onto consciousness, the two Ruffians that had dragged him over, took him by his arms and positioned him on his knees. Blight then drew his sword, and holding it in one hand, quickly and cleanly severed Ver’úx’s head. Blight then bent down and picked up the head, showing it off for all to see.

  “Your champions are dead!” He yelled for all the surviving people of Knoll to hear. Clyde watched on in horror, disenchanted with the idea of being of Ruffian. All of those stories of gold and glory he had heard since a child now seemed like nothing more than lies and propaganda. He clutched his sword tightly, now. Trying to devise a plan of escape.

  ***

  Blight tossed Ver’úx’s severed head aside and continued to address the people of Knoll. Those that had not fought in the skirmish were now doing their best to hide in hopes they would not join their neighbors in death.

  “We only came here for your gold!” Blight announced. “But since you saw it fit to kill so many of my men, we will also be taking some of you with us to make things even!” Blight then turned to his men standing behind him, out of three hundred only a little under two hundred had survived. “Round them up boys! Kill all the men and any boy over ten, put the rest in chains!”

  The remaining Ruffians let out a savage yell as they began searching each building for survivors. Clyde could no longer see what was happening, but he could hear the crashing sound of doors being broken down and the screaming of people as they watched their husbands and sons being murdered and as they themselves got put in chains. Clyde closed his eyes tightly and began to grit his teeth in an attempt to block out the screams, but nothing worked. As he lay under the wagon continuing to unwillingly listen, he overheard something else, a softly quiet and gentle voice coming from the crack on the side of the wagon.

  [1] The elvish name Ver’úx Aít means righteous might in elvish. To learn more about the elvish language and pronunciation go to Appendix A and E.