Back home, the history of wars is taught in schools and present battles spread across endless news cycles. I have no military background, and yet I can explain simple strategic decisions from a five minute observation. I wish I grew up like a Satyr, I wish I didn’t know the word military.

“Mother’s sent you Seth. Your knowledge will steer us from these dangers.” She says with a serious expression.

"It’s quite sad, don’t you think? I'm just interpreting what I see with the information taught to me as a child. I never even served in an army or know anyone that has. Yet my culture can teach us tactics in history class or through entertainment like games. We are no different from the Daemons."

"The Shepherd will arrive in our season of need and take us to lands to flourish for generations. That is what our Voice told us. This isn't a coincidence that Mother sent you as the Daemon invade and hunters grow stronger.

What your kind taught you can be used to benefit my people without building bases or armies. If it was just myself in this destroyed part of Mother’s world, without you, do you know how I would act?"

“No.” I grumble through self loathing.

“I would weep for the loss of nature, curse the Daemons for their vile actions and inform my Tribe to be more vigilant and train harder. We would be wiped from Mother’s gaze in the coming Luna cycles without you, without our Shepherd.” She places a supporting hand on my arm and looks at me with a reassuring smile.

What kind of people do these Satyrs appear to be, what a loss to this world if they become trapped between the ruling races. I’m beginning to comprehend the level of responsibility I have taken on.

I feel the pressure in my stomach tightening. However she is right, ignorance isn’t always bliss when a horde descends upon loved ones in the night. I can screw up leading her tribe to flourishing lands, but anywhere is better than nesting in the shadow of their castras.

"Thank you, we should move on Piia, we know they're Daemons and what threat they pose to your people, objective achieved." If I'm going to be their guide I should start by getting her away from the burnt base full of bodies that will no doubt attract Silva's creatures.

Another castra could be less than a kilometre away, reinforcements mustered and marching as we speak.

"You're right Seth." She says while standing.

Great, let's get away from this depressing scene I think.

Piia leaves the treeline and heads towards destruction. Brilliant, I'm the shepherd of a suicidal flock. Mother just give me lemmings next time and things will be quicker.

"Piia!" hissing as quietly as possible. She waves me to follow and continues.

I draw my blade and chase after her. I thought she was going to teach me how to survive this place.

We approach the first of the bodies. Two imps lay in parts several feet from each other, in fact, it is the same imp. Piia points to deep gouges that have disfigured the imp's face.

“Guardians have left their marks.” She says quietly.

“Piia were you not listening, this is no joke. That base could house an army. We should go now.” I’m failing already.

“There is no one left and we need to find evidence to convince the Voice of this threat. The fruit of words is sweet or poison, we need proof that ours are sweet.” She continues marching quickly towards the unfinished palisades.

I give chase, trying to find my own words to emphasise the danger we were frolicking into whilst simultaneously scanning for movement when I trip on the remains of a quartered imp.

Yes please.

What’s with these imp genitals? I wonder if the loot system only gives valuable items or also junk. I look at the imp’s features which were ghastly before the Guardian had its way. I can’t see anything that distinguishes their genders. Who knows, maybe this was considered an attractive woman to them.

I retrieve the imp dagger from my inventory. The long blade is crafted from a single piece of white bone, a vicious claw blends seamlessly with an imp’s crooked finger and ends in a small knuckle, the weapon feels light and easy to wield. Attacking with a dagger takes far less technique than a sword, the main setback being its limited reach.

I doubt I have the balls to get close enough to my enemies to use it, and also my short sword puts me in perfect Guardian bear obliteration range as well. Why couldn’t I find a bow?

While admiring the blade, the scent of burnt flesh brings me back to reality.

Crap, where's Piia? I search the area and can’t see my Satyr friend. I slide my new weapon into my belt, I’ll have to find a proper sheath for it later. I move fast in a crouched run towards the base camp, the position and movement quickly burning my leg muscles.

How could I get distracted in such a deadly place? I pass body after body, feeling exposed in the open and alone, I don’t risk looting anymore. Entrails, blood and burnt flesh decorate the battle zone. Daemons and Guardians fought a terrible conflict here.

Other strange and exotic creatures share their resting place. I see vibrant green and brown chitinous plates on severed limbs, I can’t find the main torso they belong to. Is that part of a new Daemon or one of Mother’s animals?

I reach the outside of the remaining palisade and crouch low, listening for any noise that might be Piia or a Daemon. I look across the area we just crossed, back towards the treeline and safety.

There’s nowhere to hide my advance and the feeling of watching eyes causes me to quickly rush towards the palisade. Hitting the wall of roughly chopped wood, I crouch lower and search for movement. Breathing hard now, I realise this is the first time I’ve been alone in this world since Piia collided with me, I hate it.

Hugging the wall, I follow it round towards the openside that was never finished. I reach the end of the embedded logs and peer into the internal camp. Outside the palisade was a mere scrap compared to what had ensued within the walls.

Pure chaos had consumed the base, fires were still burning through most of the tents. The churned ground was covered in bodies. Daemons and creatures that fought to the bitter end, every bit of flesh was torn and shredded. Black and red blood splattered everything in a thick layer.

Fur and purple skin were matted into the stew to result in a horrible concoction. I add to the filthy sight with a spew of vomit, the smell and sight overwhelming me. I can’t understand this violence. If this is the world I now live in then I don’t want any part of it.

Overturned carts of grey wood, partially smashed, were used as a temporary wall on the open side of the palisade. This wood’s tone and grain don’t match the species I’ve seen in Silva so far. I look into the midst of the camp and see movement, I charge the nearest cart for cover.

Peering through a slowly spinning wheel I glimpse a disappearing shadow amongst the military tents. Was that Piia? Should I shout for her? No, that is suicidal. I watch for another minute in silence and push in. Stepping over mangled remains, my greedy mind tempts me with the copious amounts of loot I could find on each one.

But I can’t get distracted, I can loot once I’ve found her.

Walking past a campfire, I see a large cooking pot knocked over. Its contents resembled an alien broth of vegetables or meat. They were attacked around dinner time then. I choose a direction through the tents, avoiding the side with fires.

A large tent before me, made from shiny pink and grey leather, shakes from within. Is Piia in there? A ripped opening reveals a military barracks, with bed mats, weapons and baggage left in a mess. Hesitating to call out for her in case a Daemon still occupies the camp, I stick my head through the gap and peer inside for any signs of my friend.

The space is huge and must have sheltered ten to twelve Daemons at full occupation, their upended foreign contents are in a state of complete riot and scattered everywhere. I push inside, if I can’t find Piia I can at least rummage through a Daemon’s belongings and find interesting artefacts, more weapons or armour.

Maybe I can be a treasure hunter in this world, I think while picking up a strange intricate metal contraption from the mess. How do I know if this has any value, it could be their version of nail clippers.

A wet snapping noise rolls my stomach. I whip my head around and look down the length of the tent. The poles holding the pink leather up have collapsed at one end and a large tail sticks out from under the mound.

Two Daemonic purple legs of an imp lay under the tail, they jerk along with the sound of the snapping noise. I move back in reflex and kick a bag full of hard metal items that loudly clang from the impact.

My eyes instinctively look down at the bag, medieval weapons spewing out and across the floor. I instantly return my gaze to the tail, having only looked away for second.

Two blazing predatory eyes challenge mine as the raptor-like creature crosses the room.