Prologue –

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   Unclothed, frail, weak, malnourished, a lone man walked on a field of dust. This field of dust was a wasteland where bones of those who walk it could be seen. This man walked unknowingly. In this desert of despair where light was blocked by the thick mist of dust. He walked through this valley of death with his hand on his chest.

“HELP ME,” said the man.

   No one would answer him. The wind and the dust carried his voice off. Indeed, there was only the whizzing of pebble and stray dust particles that would reply to him. This man with a frail frame marches this desert in search of any light to be seen.

   A single grain of sand in the midst of dust, this man started to his feet in hope that was nowhere to be found. Trek as he might in this endless sea of dust that swallows people whole. Crying, the man moved his legs hopelessly until he saw this trails of dust. Hope burst forth on his heart.

   He waved his hands at the figures on that storm of dust. The riders wore a cloth around their heads. Above their shoulders, a long barrel poked out. They wore light armor and they focused their gaze on him who was shouting. The riders encircled him. The man who waved his hands felt that there was something wrong. He could not understand their words. How could he? He was a foreigner of this world. Thus, a net was thrown at him. The net’s thin materials scratched his arms. He cried out in pain as he stops resisting.

   The rider saw how quick the frail main gave up. One of the riders dragged the net, scratching the man further, injuring his already weak and frail body. The man took the net away. The deprived frail man looked at the rider who took out a leather canteen. The rider gave the frail man bread too. This wasn’t mercy. This was to ensure that the frail man would survive the journey. They would haul this frail young man back to the city of storms, a city where men and women who lost their way will be sold into slavery.

   They took the deprived, the denied, back to the city. The journey was harsh for the riders. That was twice as harsh for the deprived who had his limbs tied up like a pig. The deprived man can only shout in pain. He was gagged by the riders. The riders only heard a muffled cry of desperation.

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   Along the way, through hills of dust and sand, the riders witnessed the appearance of giant sandworms. If the riders didn’t know better, they would have died right there. But the flint-lock rifles behind their backs proved useful, along with their specially coated bullets, and dynamites.

   The giant sandworm that was a big as any tower died just like that. The riders took some of the flesh and carried on. Through seven days the riders gallop through the desert. In the morning they rode, in the night they rest while eating lavishly, while looking at the deprived who was still struggling for his dear life.

   The men were impressed. They thought that such frail would man wouldn’t survive. Of course, they wouldn’t know that the frail man could see red when he’s about to die. Just a bit of relief and he would be able to regain his strength. Such ability was something that he had in him. He only needs to find relief at near death and his meager regeneration kicks in.

   The riders ‘rewarded’ the deprived man with food and water. After that, they drag him to the city of storms where ‘deprived’ like him would be collared to become a slave. The riders sold the deprived man for five gold coins. The riders laughed at the misery of deprived. He watched them gallop away. Deprived stared at the square houses made of chiseled sandstones.

   Deprived, lowered his head. The Slave Master who owned him now instructed the guards to bring him to the cages. He was put into the cages. Like dogs, the other slaves scampered about as food was thrown at them. Deprived, sat there motionlessly along with the other three. One had strange dog-like ears holding a little girl with the same features, while the other was a burly man with two protruding horns near his ears.

   The lavish nobles with baggy sleeves came to look at these set pieces of living merchandises. With their heads down, the four deprived, the ones denied of freedom was picked by a middle-aged master of strange fetishes. Deprived didn’t know anything, as he was dragged along with the four.

   Unable to comprehend anything in this foreign world he didn’t belong. Deprived could only lower his head and make his head bow.

   Whether it was fate or him alone that made him bow his head. It doesn’t matter. This was the fate of a deprived who wandered on a foreign world.