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              We trekked through the forest until we came upon the camp site of these would think bandits. It seemed quiet at this base of theirs. Small groups of mercenaries walked down the dirt path between the houses, chatting quietly while the scanned the perimeter. They seemed nervous and on edge as they glanced between each other, holding their swords down at their sides, almost like they were expecting an attack. With having scanned the surrounding area, they walked onto the porch of an old, battered home and shut the door. Something didn’t feel right. The air seemed tense and on edge. Even my skin prickled as I scanned the small, abandoned village.

              Dreadfort was a very historical battle sight between my father’s Kingdom, and the Kingdom that laid just North of us. This village use to be