The Eve of Battle

The Inquisitor, as he is called but also known as Krieg Ganner, rules a large fief in a kingdom ruled by humans. He is the descendent of a long line of paladins and inquisitors. Ganner had only one son. He loved his child more than any other parent could. On the childes sixth birthday, a vampire assassin came by night and slew the child. Ganner was thrown into a great depression. Finally, when his morning was finished, he arose and called a council of all kings, lords, and chieftains who fallowed the light. As he addressed the council, he had a voice that could have belonged to the Great Creator. He radiated a light and holiness that none had felt that the council could do nothing but grant his request. That request was simple yet huge. The armies of the council to fight under his banner to rid the world of Darkness. The council was almost unanimous except for the elves, who felt there needed to be some balance between light and dark. The muster was sent out. All warriors were made ready for battle. That was a year ago. And know finally, all forces of the Alliance, the name the council took up, has gathered here at the pass of Rammas Echor, the border between light and dark, where the first battle is to take place. Ganner under his banner of a golden sun on a field of black, has marshaled all forces. The numberless warriors of the Alliance order themselves on the side of the mountain, facing across the plane to the enemy that is gathered. The Brotherhood, the allied resistance to the Alliance, now fields its own armies to rival those of the light. You, brave adventures, are a part of a special volunteer army. Not owing allegiance to any one nation, but to the Alliance itself.

The camp was full of life and merrymaking, many different tunes were being played and songs song. It was almost like a Midsummer's day fest rather then a war camp. Tents were pitched every where. Long wooden tables were filled with food from all across the continent (thanks to the Half-lings). Around each of the huge bonfires there was all manner of peoples dancing with each other (often with a mug of ale in hand). Enjoying yourselves while sitting around one of the many tables, your general, plops himself down to enjoy a mug of ale and a mutton shank with you. The dwarf went by the name Groag Ironhelm. You are by far his favorite soldiers. "You four were the biggest bunch of misfits I had ever laid eyes on." He paused for a hiccup indicating that that was in fact not his first mug of ale, nor did you suspect it would be his last. "But look atcha now! Proper soldiers I've made you all." Another violent hiccup. "Now, tomorrow you make me proud. Even you pointy ears." He said indicating Eruestan Duskhand, the Half-Elf. With that last remark the intoxicated dwarf fell backwards off the long wooden bench with a stratifying thud.