Acheron is a world of magic and wonders, of monsters and treasures. The greatest treasures of all are the Dragon Gemstones. The shards of the mightiest power ever known. Wars have been fought, empires have been raised and toppled, and journeys have been made to all four corners of the known world in the pursuit of even one of the precious gemstones. To possess just one is to know power beyond the reckoning of the common man; to possess a dozen is to be like one of the great magicians… but if one were to collect all one hundred… the fabric of reality itself would become like a book to be re-written.

Our story begins with a group of unusual friends. Four in total, a supposed 'prince' and his 'royal guards'. They claim to have once been like the dragons of old, but to look upon them now, one would only see half-dragons, a rare but not unknown race, dressed in the garbs and tools of adventures. They make their way through the vast golden green fields of the western plains to the port town of Wincam. The Elderman of Wincam has contacted the Adventurer's Association for assistance in combating the threat of the dread pirate 'Red Mane, the Speaker'.

Our heroes enjoy a pleasant venture, not knowing unfriendly eyes hold them in their gaze...

"Fifty-five!" Boosted the crimson-scaled Zhanatos as he puffed out his muscular chest and jerked his thumb to himself.

"No way!" retorted his green-scaled friend. "You're padding your score again." The Corsair insisted as she thumbed the runes on her bow. A frequent habit of hers.

"I'm looking at the count right now." Zhanatos gestured to the mystical glowing blue runes floating before him. His 'Arcane Record' a list of accomplishments and tasks bound to his soul. Everyone in the world of Acheron has their own 'Arcane Record'. Why that is, is the unknowable whimsy of the gods. What is known is that those who adventure and complete the tasks before them are rewarded with great power. Often those that have completed the most tasks sit upon the thrones of the world.

Larxene pushed back her green hair as she leaned forward to examine the runes herself. The particular record was for 'Most goblinoids slayed in a day'. The number was Fifty-five as her friend had claimed. A sum that was more impressive than her own forty-two. "Okay fine, but what about owlbears? I bet I've slain more of those than you have."

Zhanatos shrugged his broad shoulders. "You probably have, they taste like crap.

Goblins, however... THAT'S good eating."

Their leader at the head of the group Radais Knightbane let a small wince at his friend's dietary choices. Being of royal blood he was used to the finer things in life; wine, spiced meat, women… especially the women. With a little smile, he turned and looked at the woman walking next to him.

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Xion the Crusader looked similarly displeased with Zhanato's dining habits. She glanced over her shoulder and with her matronly voice asked, "Perhaps you two could find something else to chat about?"

"You've been comparing numbers this whole trip. You're both impressive in your own ways," Radais added. He knew his friends' rivalry was an excellent driver to inspire them, but at times the constant quarrelling got to be vexing.

"But we need to figure out who's stronger!" Larxene insisted. "It's rune-bow versus sword. Ranged vs melee. I know I'm stronger because I can fight at a distance. I don't need to go running into the fray like *SOME* people I know."

Zhanatos scoffed, "You mean you need to run *AWAY* from the fight. This is why my kill count is higher. I charge at the enemy as they're charging me, we close the distance in half the time that way."

Radais raised an ebony finger and gestured to his Berserker friend in a motion of agreement. "I'll give him that one. It sort of makes sense in a strange way."

"But it's also irrelevant! My bow can be either a long bow or a short bow meaning I can engage at any distance. I never have to get close to the enemy at all--"

"Unless you're robbing them," Xion chimed in gently.

"Technically, it's 'looting' if they're dead first." Radais clarified.

Zhanatos jumped in at that moment to score what he thought might be a worthy victory. "Yes, and as a melee fighter, I can loot the enemy as I'm killing them! That's double the efficiency." He nodded in a self-satisfied manner.

"But I'm a master thief!" Larxene countered. "I pilfer the pockets of our foes without them even noticing."

"Oh yeah, like anyone is going to be able to notice ANYTHING after they're dead." The Berserker scoffed, somewhat missing the point of his friend's argument.

"Zombies might," Xion added with a soft chuckle. She always enjoyed the energy Zhanatos and Larxene's little back and forth brought to the group.

"Or ghosts, though… I can't imagine they'd have much to be robbed of, to begin with." Radais added thoughtfully.

"Hmmm…." Zhanatos grunted thoughtfully.

"What?" Larxene inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"If someone dies with change in their pocket and becomes a ghost, does that mean they have ghost coins?" Zhanatos asked aloud.

That one was enough to make the rest of the group stop their march and turn to face them.

The big half-dragon shrugged, "Well, if the ghost still has their pants on…." He trailed off.

Radais opened his mouth to reply, then shut it and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Come to think of it… during my magical studies, I did learn ghosts can sometimes manifest with objects they had on the person when they died… weapons and armour, for example. I recall an interesting treatise by the researcher Maxos of Aldros. It was about his study of the haunted battlefield of

Eldermore, you see…."

The rest of the royal guards exchanged knowing looks about their prince's propensity to share the wealth of knowledge he had gained from the many books and scrolls he read.

It was as Radais was pontificating about the finer points of spirits crossing the veil between the realms of life and death that Xion noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye. She saw the glint of steel as it was drawn, and she spun on her heel and held up her hand as sparks of lighting and shards of ice danced among her fingertips.

The others followed suit, reading their own weapons and spells as the bandits emerged from the trees, greed and murderous intent glinting in their eyes.