Ronaldo walked from his home in the center of Holstenkaft, leaving his daughter and his wife behind in their cabin. The village was well-constructed, having only been there for a hundred years or so. His father’s father had built the house that he and his family resided in. They had come to appreciate the town’s way it conducted itself, that is, until recently.

The townsfolk were traditionalists, but they weren’t traditional in the way of magic. They believed in hard work, but they were afraid of change. Not many villagers were gifted with magic in their veins, but those who were had left. Many of the village Elders decided against having those who could destroy the lives of the village’s citizens. In a way, they were right. They were wrong, though.

His wife and himself didn’t much mind for those who used magic, but then again they weren’t present for the fight between Salahkah and the men from the village. The night the men returned from the Shariz residence, they went into the tavern to complain about the family’s existence. Ronaldo was getting a drink when he heard some of the men talk about how they wanted to go back, that they were certain that Salahkah had used all of his power to stave off the first wave, and how easy it’d be to deal with the ‘bitch and her son’.

Ronaldo said nothing to the men, as he wasn’t much more than a writer. He brought his own satchel with him wherever he went, and he could write down whatever his thoughts whispered to him. He couldn’t do anything about the conflict other than record its history, and hope for the best.

He and his family spoke about the troubles from the day, and Ronaldo decided to talk to Salahkah about it, noting that he probably had heard about it already, and figured that some sort of plan had been made regarding what to do about Orgadesh. Ronaldo had been lucky to never have needed to talk to the half-orc who had been known to challenge any arguer to a fight.

He wouldn’t be able to muster up the strength, or courage to do so. He had a lot of faith in Salahkah, however.

When he made his way down the path of the woods, he could see the farmers turning in for the day. The sun was just on the horizon, as if the light was just settling down itself. His daughter made this trek almost everyday to visit her friend, so he could, too. In his constant writing, he was troubled with the thoughts of monsters and other terrors. He wanted to ensure his family’s safety, but off of the page, he wasn’t a hero. He’d never swung a sword, let alone hold one.

Ronaldo’s father was a wordsmith, just like him. Though he prided himself with his work, he couldn’t help but hold a great deal of respect for the men like Salahkah who could hold their own with great beasts of legend. He traversed through the thicket, where the trail to get to the Shariz Residence was located. It was carved out years ago by Gelmana, through unknown means. The villagers hadn’t used the path in so long, however, that it lay nearly untouched. The only people who used it were his own family, travelers, and the Shariz family themselves.

He approached the house made by Salahkah’s hands. A cabin made out of the same wood as those of the trees around it. A separate house lay further down the hill, but Ronaldo was unaware of its true nature. He walked up to the house, where in the window the lights were on. He couldn’t hear what was being said inside, nor could he see through the windows. The air was cool and brisk now that since the sun had descended at this point, and he could see his breath. He knocked on the door.

There was a minute between Ronaldo knocking on the door and from when Salahkah opened the door. His black hair a mess, his face looking as if he were sweating. He wore a robe that Ronaldo had never seen before. A brown cloth that covered him from his ankles to his neck.

“Mister Warez,” Salahkah raised a brow. “What am I to do for you at this hour?” He squinted and looked into the distance, then looked back at him. “Is this about my boy?”

“Mister Shariz, this is about Orgadesh’s boy. He bullied my daughter earlier - your son saved her - he should’ve told you this.” Ronaldo cleared his throat and looked around.

Salahkah’s eyes widened, and he looked back inside. Inside his wife was lying on the bed in her nudity. Her red hair disheveled and her body warm with pleasure. She looked at her husband’s worried expression and almost instantly knew what was the problem. Their son hadn’t been back yet.

Salahkah turned back to Ronaldo. “Can you please give us a minute?” He shut the door.

The couple quickly dressed into their outfits. Gelmana wore a green dress with brown slacks underneath for ease of movement through the underbrush. She put on brown leather boots, and grabbed her bag and quarterstaff. Salahkah put on his dark-silver half-plate, his red leather pants, his black leather boots, and grabbed his longsword.

Ronaldo watched as the door opened and the couple stepped outside. He looked their outfits up and down, thinking that their approach to telling Orgadesh might be a little too forward.

“I honestly don’t think that Orgadesh will put up that much of fight, I mean he does only have one arm..”

“When did you last see Akahsha?” Salahkah said with such authority that he himself had to realize he was talking to one of his only friends in the village. “He hasn’t come home yet.”

Ronaldo had to think for a moment, recalling the events from what should have only been hours ago. “It must have been around noon.”

Salahkah and Gelmana walked around him while he was in thought. Their expressions changed to a rather serious set, and they walked with determination. Their gaze fixated on the woods around them.

“The woods are large,” Said Gelmana, her hand lighting up with a green energy. Her eyes were glowing with the same energy. “But I can locate him.”