I feel despair when I see what surrounds me and what has become of the settlement before me. Looking at what remains of the village I have called home for the past two decades, I feel my knees buckle and quickly grow weak as I gaze around.

"Wha… What... Where..." I stutter as my mind races, trying to understand what I see.

Absolute dread grips my heart, and my mind goes blank. Absently looking around, not genuinely perceiving what is in front of me, I fall onto my knees, and my vision grows blurry as tears run down my face. I lower my head and arms and lay on the dirt path, sobbing, rapidly losing control over my emotions. About three hours later, my mind slowly catches up, and I gradually regain control over my feelings. I slowly stand up and wipe the remnants of tears from my eyes. I close my eyes and inhale slowly; seconds later, I steadily exhale while slowly opening my eyes. Finally, gaining complete control over my racing mind and wild emotions, I prepare to process the devastation before me. I start by slowly processing how I got here and where I am.

I've spent the past month adventuring and expanding my understanding of rune crafting in preparation for exploring the vast continent of Randiel; now, I stand at the edge of the village on a dirt path that leads through the woods and connects to a main route. It runs about two to three hours on foot though it's much faster by horseback. Realizing I still have my travel gear and rune kit on me, I find a place to set them down, and I begin taking another deep breath and steadily exhaling; I start processing what is around me.

I make out corpses dangling from structures and corpses tied to posts and gates. I also see buildings that were broken into and even some that have shattered windows. Finally, I decided to turn my attention to the corpses littered on the open fields and dirt paths. I see the corpse of a person I recognize; I slowly and unsteadily begin walking toward it. Although I was a few meters away, the smell of death permeated my nose, though it's a smell I've grown used to throughout my life. Being only about two feet away now, I clearly see the corpse. It appears only to have been here for about a week.

If I remember correctly, her name was Marcia. She was a mother of two young boys and a talented baker. I think to myself.

I wasn't close to Marcia, though I did know of her excellent baking abilities. She was new in the village, only recently settling down in Lumbridge. I carefully analyze her corpse, searching for any markings that can give me any information. Marcia lies on her back with her neck cut open, obviously by a bladed weapon. I see where the blood from her neck traveled and where her tears ran from her eyes. I gently close her eyes as I continue to search her corpse. After carefully searching, I see nothing else to give me information on her assailants. However, I do take note of the abuse and disgrace she went through.

Sluggishly, I stand back up and feel the agony and fury pulling at the edges of my mind. Still recovering from the breakdown earlier, I struggle to calm myself and control my emotions. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths and give myself time to recuperate. A few moments later, having regained some of my composure, I open my eyes and continue processing. I walk further through the silent and lifeless settlement on a side path I'm familiar with and observe the wooden buildings. Noticing that most of them are intact, I pause and gaze at one I've been in many times.

An old, tattered building made with cheap wood that could use desperate repairs in a few places, though I never saw it like that. It's always been home to me, although I seldom slept there. I stare solemnly at the door, and the memories flood back in as I can't hold back the tears any longer.

I was around five or six years of age when a group of hunters from this village found me half-dead and starved in the woods surrounding Lumbridge. The house in front of me belonged to the hunter who took me in and raised me as one of her own; her name was Rose Maricotta, and the name fit her beautifully. I knew nothing about myself or my name, so Rose named me Lucian Maricotta. Rose passed away when I was fourteen; I was the one to discover her mutilated body in a nearby cave. It appeared that she had clashed and lost to a strong animal, though I feel the story of her death is much less subtle and incidental than it seems to be. Putting the unsettling memory aside, I force myself to remember the better days spent living in the village and the faces of the younger kids playing in the open field. The farmers and farm hands worked tirelessly in the fields, and the soft breeze would alleviate your spirit and step as you went about your day. The delicate aroma of cooked meat and the pungent smell of mead on the breeze always excited my appetite. The settlement wasn't huge, though we had a lot of open areas, a result of chopping some places of the woods down. Lumbridge was a humble village that welcomed anyone and offered shelter to those lost or traveling. One of the most notable things about Lumbridge was its importance to the nearby nations. Lumbridge was right on the border between two powerful and conflicting countries, the Empire of Ludia and the Edin Dominion. Even though we were treated as a separate entity and not given any support, we were still required to pay both nations' taxes and trade fees.

As the memories play over in my mind, I feel myself losing my composure, and I resign myself to let the tears flow down my face. It takes me some time to fully accept what has happened. I walk from my wooden house and head down the path to an open field. I sit in the grass, look up towards the dark cloudless sky, and let my eyes wander as I fall into a deep concentration, thinking of how to continue.

I can't leave my people out like this, though I don't know what happened here or if it's safe to be here; I sigh, saddened as I continue to think, I should get some rest for now. It's late, and I'm starved. I'll give them a proper farewell tomorrow. I contemplate while letting the memories quickly fade from my mind.

I pause and take a few deep breaths to clear my head. Once I started to feel calmer, I moved a hand to clear my eyes of any remaining tears. I stand up and head towards the dirt path where I left my travel pack and rune crafting kit. I take a slight detour to search Marcia's bakery to find something to eat. The bakery was nearly emptied of anything edible, though I did find some spare slices of untouched bread on a plate. It'd be a shame to waste food, and I am starving. I joke to myself as I exit Marcia's Bakery. Continuing my track back toward my travel pack, I arrived moments later. I sit down and pick up my rune kit, inspecting it thoughtfully. Rune creation is a rare type of magic typically taught by knowledgeable rune mages. However, there are few experienced rune mages as most consider rune magic a waste of time and too complex. Rune magic is very flexible, and the possibilities are much broader than many other schools of magic, but with that wide of a range combined with the amount of talent needed, I understand why most avoid it. I smile wistfully as I put my rune kit into the travel pack and strap the bag to my back. Then I stand up and head in the direction of my home.

Arriving home, I enter, set my travel pack aside, and remove the rune kit. I rummage through my bag and dig a match and candle out. I'll sleep here tonight, though I must be cautious and prepared if I fall under attack. I'll craft some detection runes. I think to myself as I strike the match and light the candle. Retrieving my rune kit, I begin steadily infusing my mana into creating the rune base. Utilizing a rune kit requires a solid understanding of the purpose of your rune, focus, and deep concentration. Any slight mistake could ruin the progress of a rune or produce a useless rune. The process also requires steady and direct mana flow to manipulate the shape and properties of the rune. If the mage doesn't continuously steadily apply mana, the rune could explode depending on the quality and quantity of mana supplied.

Detection runes are simple to make; I focus on the range and the quality when I create them. I only need the range to cover my house and to detect and alert me of any intrusions in its scope. A lot more can be added onto a detection rune, though I need more experience and practice to forge them. Fifteen minutes later, I wipe my brows of sweat and examine my finished runes. They're not my best work, but they'll work for now.

I stand up and place one above one of the windows and the other above the entrance. The mana I infused into the rune resonates with me, assuring me they're active and ready to go.

I slowly exhale, then turn and head towards the makeshift bed on the floor. I haven't felt comfortable sleeping inside this house since Rose died, and if I had to, I only slept on piled-up fabrics in the sitting room. 

Finding myself much more exhausted after forging the detection runes, I fall back first on the makeshift bed and feel fatigued wash over me. My eyes close, and sleep quickly takes me.

I feel weightless, and my eyes gradually open. I try to move my arms and legs around, but they don't move. I panic and look around desperately, trying to understand what's happening. I see boundless darkness everywhere; I blink, and nothing changes. I try to shout, but nothing but eerie silence comes. Surrounded by darkness and unable to move, an overwhelming feeling of emptiness clutches me. Slowly losing my resolve and falling deeper into the darkness, I give a last effort and will my body to listen to me. I wake up gasping for air and profusely sweating.

 A nightmare? That felt far too real, though. My mind races as I carefully scan the area for my travel pack. Spotting it, I walk over and retrieve it, rummaging through it, grabbing a flask of water, and drinking it all swiftly.

Tossing the empty flask, I unsteadily head towards a chair. I sit down and close my eyes. 

"I can't sleep like this," I say, grumbling softly.

My eyes open, and I look towards the window and see moonlight and darkness. I don't feel any more rested, nor do I feel as tired. I shake my head slowly and sigh. 

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I won't be sleeping tonight; I guess I can think about what to do about the corpses in the settlement to pass the time. Leaving their bodies out will only attract scavengers or dark magic practitioners. A mass grave is possible, but that'll take days to dig. A pyre works, though I've never built one. Feeling irritated and hopeless as I don't know how to proceed. I think while attempting to reason with myself. I'm only one man; I cannot do all this alone. I can't be expected to be responsible for cleaning this aftermath. However, I'll do all I can. Coming to a conclusion, I settle to do my best, understanding that it's better than doing nothing.

Sitting in the chair for hours while contemplating, I fail to notice the sunlight creeping in the window and the darkness slowly fading. Not long after, I groggily return to my senses, and the weight of a sleepless night burdens my body and mind. Blinking slowly, barely keeping my eyes focused, I think of what I'll have to accomplish today. Then, listlessly, I stand up and prepare myself for the day. 

Stepping outside my house and feeling the sun's heat and soft breeze, feeling a bit rejuvenated, my spirit rises slightly. I bask in the sunlight briefly before heading off and getting back on track. Today's goal is to collect whatever wood I can and build a somewhat usable pyre. I let my thoughts focus on the task ahead of me as I search for a spot wide enough for the wooden structure.

After walking around the settlement and finding a spot to build the pyre and haul the corpses, I begin clearing debris and other miscellaneous objects. I see a dull sword with small engravings on it that I recognize. This sword belonged to the blacksmith's son, Tom. This was the first sword Tom forged after practicing for months. He was so happy and decided to keep it, although it had no practical use as a sword. The village threw a small celebration to congratulate his accomplishment. I remember the day clearly; Tom and I spent much time together when we were younger as we were both fascinated by his father's craft. The memory leaves a gut-wrenching feeling as it fades in and out. The engravings on the sword were Tom's initials, a poorly made T, and a barely noticeable S. I smile weakly and decide to put the sword aside. Leaving the sword leaning on a nearby building. I continue clearing out the debris, and it doesn't take me much longer before I have a cleared-out area wide enough for a wooden pyre. I didn't find anything else that could be useful to me or anything too important to leave behind.

A thought comes to me as I examine the freshly cleared area. Couldn't I gather the bodies in one spot and burn them without a pyre? I mumble to myself as I play around with the idea. Unfortunately, the workload is too much; I need more provisions and strength to undertake a monumental task. It's more feasible, although there must be more I should do.

Moments later, after debating with myself, I convinced myself and changed my plans. I turn around and head back down the dirt path. Arriving at the outskirts of the village, I look around, seeing the dozens of corpses, and sigh as I begin hauling the bodies further away.

It is a grueling task, and I pause every few hours to give my mind and body rest. Finally, after spending hours hauling the bodies to the open area, I gravely inspected the pile of corpses, recognizing most of the bodies, many of whom I had spent years with. Friends, mentors, drunkards, farmers, and many more. You will live on in my memory. As long as I'm alive, I will never forget the kindness and the sense of home and community you offered me. Guilt and sadness occupy my mind, and tears run down my eyes. Taking a deep breath and focusing, I think about what else I could do. I grab Tom's sword from where I left it, then walk towards the pile of bodies. I set the sword among the bodies and feel hopelessness growing inside me. I'll collect anything of value to send them off with. I contemplate as I start walking back with the next step in mind. I searched for anything valuable to send alongside them. It is custom to send the dead off with valuables in hopes they acquire riches in their next existence.

I search for valuables by going through the wooden homes and shops. After hours of searching, I inspect what I have collected. Bronze and silver coins were found in hidden containers, letters from family, decently crafted clothes and footwear, and other small trinkets. I must admit that the haul wasn't very much, but we weren't a wealthy village, and there wasn't much that could be retrieved. We struggled each year to feed ourselves, and gossip about the province lord increasing taxes weighed heavily in everyone's minds. Sighing in dissatisfaction and displeasure, I head towards the open area and lay the collected valuables among the deceased.

I look around for some flammable material to lay over the bodies. Finding small branches and gathering flammable materials to fuel the fire doesn't take me long. I return to the pile of corpses, knowing I'll have to gather more materials later to keep the fire going. I lean over and place the materials among the bodies.

 I stand up and walk back a few paces to inspect my work. I'm ashamed of my incompetence. The sight before me is horrific and disheartening. Then, lost in what feels like an endless ocean of sadness, I look away and head towards my house for matches.

Entering my house, I grab my pack and rummage for the box of matches. I open the box and see I only have two matches remaining. I decide to use both; it's a sacrifice worth making. I head back to the open area and light the match. I stare at the faces of the people I've spent most of my life with and whisper a quiet prayer. "May the light guide you." Taking a deep breath, I toss the lit match onto the flammable material and watch the fire grow.

"This is farewell, my dear friends; continue to watch over me and guide me from the afterlife."

I say with sorrow present in my voice. I sit and watch as the fire grows and begins to consume the corpses of the deceased. The village is only a few days away from the nearest garrison, though...

My thoughts are interrupted by an arrow that grazes my right arm, slashing through the delicate fabric of my jerkin and drawing blood.

"Argh," I grumble in pain as I quickly stand and run behind the pile of bodies.

"We have our orders; capture him alive if possible. Surround the area, don't let him escape." I overhear a deep, firm voice as I hurriedly inspect my wound. The wound isn't deep, but I don't know if the arrow was poisoned. Regardless, I have more important things to worry about. I think and look around for any pursuers who may have gotten close. Seeing no pursuers in the immediate area, I take a deep breath and calm myself. I have the settlement layout memorized, and I hurriedly think of a plan. It was foolish not to purchase thicker shirts or armor before I left Verun.

I'm unsure of the number of people chasing me, and I am unarmed. The odds are stacked against me; I must focus on withdrawing. The heat from the fire deliberately grows, and I realize it's time to move. I run into a ruined home and look for escape routes and weapons. Briefly scanning the house inside and seeing only a smashed window and nothing I can use, I abandon my search, hurdle out the window, and sprint to a wooden hut across the dirt path.

*Swoosh*

Another arrow flies by me at an incredible speed, nearly hitting the left side of my chest. That was close; the archer still has me in their sights. I'll have to be quicker. I now realize that this pursuing party might have skilled archers. A few paces away from the wooden hut, I feel my danger sense warning me to dodge. Following my danger sense, I pause and immediately duck and see the arrow soar by, nearly landing a solid shot on me. I'm unsure if I can continue at this pace. I'll wear myself out too quickly. My thoughts are interrupted again by a flash of pain from my right arm, and I feel my body rapidly numb. The arrow was poisoned, and it's potent. I won't get far like this; I must remove some poison. I rush along the dirt path and quickly scan for a place to take cover. I see a house with a few broken windows and dash into it, pausing and promptly analyzing the throbbing wound on my right arm. The arrow didn't cut deep, leaving a long slit along the side of my arm. However, the skin around the cut looks sickly. It is an immobilizing poison with rapidly spreading properties! I don't have anything to slow it down. "He's in there! Surround the building!" I hear a younger voice shout and realize I can no longer retreat.

Outnumbered and unarmed, this isn't my skill set, though I refuse to give up without trying. I'm in terrible condition, and I haven't slept. I can't continue to run; I'll have to stand my ground and defend myself here. Thinking to myself and checking my condition, I hear heavy footsteps rapidly approaching the building. I look around for anything that can be used as a weapon and spot a dull kitchen knife resting on a wooden counter.

I rush over and grab the knife in my left hand, remembering I can't use my right arm effectively due to the poison. Coincidentally, I have experience fighting with my offhand. I focus and cast Toughen on myself. I don't have a large mana reserve as I'm not a proper mage and have yet to have the opportunity to study under any. With a smaller mana reserve, I found it more efficient to specialize in self-buffs and close-quarters combat. Toughen won't slow the spread of the poison, but I'll be able to endure it longer. I'll have to finish this quickly. 

I position myself in a narrow hallway leading to a staircase up to the second floor, leaving me only one way to escape. This tactic usually isn't the best thing to do when injured and outnumbered, but this will make my pursuers face me one at a time and ensure I can't get flanked. Another flash of pain comes from my right arm as I prepare for the ensuing battle. I prepare another buff as my pursuers break open the front door. Light Step is a buff I frequent as it significantly increases my ground speed, though it consumes a lot of mana. 

I tighten my grip on the knife and analyze the first of my pursuers as he enters my sight. He doesn't seem well trained as he fumbles with his long sword, also noticing his leather armor is shabby. Nevertheless, I don't underestimate him and assume a defensive stance as he approaches. He charges at me with his long sword held high in both hands. An overhead slash? He's leaving a lot of openings for a counterattack. I think to myself as I close the distance and switch to a reverse grip with the knife in my hand. He preemptively slashes, not anticipating the speed at which I'm moving, leaving his side defenseless. Capitalizing on the opening, I dodge to the right and line my attack to where his heart is. With a flash of sudden movement, I swiftly stab him in the chest and remove my knife, anticipating a counterattack. Noticing he hasn't moved, I reposition myself a few paces away and lock my eyes on him. He's facing away from me, and I hear him laughing.

"You're far too weak. I see the poison is doing a number on you." I look at him, stunned, as he turns around with a smile plastered on his face. I focused on the area where I stabbed him and saw nothing but a faint dent. "You're quite fast, though. I'll give you that. Shame." He gloats as he changes his stance and grip on his long sword. I watch in surprise as his entire aura has changed. "I love playing with my prey." He says menacingly as the look in his eyes changes to those of an apex predator hunting helpless prey.