Marack looked over the sandy plains of Errulon and sighed as he felt the frustration build up inside him again. He had been tracking a band of Sandhags for the past three days but now it looked as if his hunt may have ended early. In the distance just over the dunes a massive wall of sand was being blown towards him. Before the dark day, when the game changed Marack would have laughed if off and continued into the storm but now things where different. Death was permanent now, no second chances, no logging out and no respawns. If he did not find shelter soon the sandstorm could strip the skin of his bones and if that didn’t happen the creatures that travelled in the storm would strip him clean.

He cursed softly knowing that no shelter was nearby and that he would have to dig himself a hole to survive. He just hoped he had time. He could see the cyclones of air elementals running in front of the wall of sand and could hear their cries of laughter in the roar of the winds. The wall of sand stretched for miles in each direction and was higher than his eyes could see. The cyclones in themselves where deadly, moving the sand in a circular saw motion at speeds Marack could only guess at. Even now where he was standing the sand was starting to get blown about.

In his past life Marack had been known as Michael, a 38-year-old counsellor who had been living a comfortable life, if not a bit sedentary. He had 3 children and between work and family life he only had a few hours to play a week. That all changed when the VR pods where released. The pods compressed time allowing four hours in pod for every one-hour real life. Finally, he could play again like he had in his teens and early twenties. And the greatest thing, the nanites in the pods helped keep his body in shape, not only that but he was starting to look almost as good as he had in his twenties. But something went wrong. One night after playing, he had tried to log out, but the option had disappeared. That had been four years ago and since then he had been making the most of his new life. There were rumors of course, magical gateways that would get you home, reaching level 300, making elixirs but he knew in his heart of hearts that nothing would change. They didn’t even know if their bodies where still alive back on earth. The admins had stopped logging in, no new messages from the devs, he didn’t even know if earth was still standing. Now Marack was a man with an athlete’s build and a mane of long black hair that reached his shoulder blades. His hair was pulled back from his face and bound with leather straps, so it formed a sort of ponytail. His face was strong and held a set of piercing grey-blue eyes and his chin was covered in light stubble. As Marack finished covering himself in the sand from the hole that he had just dug up he said a silently prayer that he would live.

The morning advanced and the sandstorm finally abated. Marack slowly climbed out of his hole and looked around him. The plains of Errulon had changed drastically. The dunes had literally been moved in the sandstorm. In the distance Marack could see a large bone graveyard that had been uncovered in the storm. The bones had been stripped of any meat that they previously held and shown a glistening white colour. Marack fancied that he could make out the remains of a Dragon in among the graveyards. There were also smaller bones that Marack guessed were humanoid. As Marack stooped to collect his pack from his makeshift burial pit he suddenly stopped. He had heard a noise from behind him and it sounded like sand being crushed beneath feet. His hand went slowly to his sword at his hip so as not to alert whoever was sneaking up on him.

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"I would not do that Shadow Warden," a gnarled voice called from behind him.

Marack looked around and was faced with five Sandhags. Sandhags were large creatures, humanoid in shape but as large as rock trolls. Their skin was covered in a long tan-beige hair and their eyes shown like red rubies. Their faces resembled that of dog type animal and their teeth were made of sharp pointed granite like material. Their skin was hard and provided them with excellent natural armor. There were numerous clans of Sandhags throughout the desert but Marack was not sure if these where a peaceful clan. He had only heard stories of peaceful clans and not actually met one.

"And why is that hag. I do not intend to die easy or without a fight," Marack responded, trying to buy time while he thought of a plan. No matter what way he looked at it there was no way out of this unless he fought them.

Again Marack cursed but this time not quietly. His armor was in the pit along with his long sword, knifes and bow and arrows the only weapon he had on him was his short sword. It was a trusty sword, but he would have preferred the reach of his long sword in the coming fight. It could turn out quite deadly to close with a Sandhag and be within their arm reach.

"We mean you no harm Shadow Warden. We merely wish to deliver a message," the lead Sandhag rasped. "You may think of us as enemy but not all tribes are warlike. Some of us just want to be left in peace. My name is Juba Shotan, and I am the Shaman of my tribe."

Marack studied the lead Sandhag that had so far done all the talking. It was larger than the others and had a bone necklace around its neck. It also carried a bone staff with it which was almost like the length of its body. The tip of the staff was topped with bird feathers. The other Sandhags all deferred to this one as if he was their leader. When Marack studied them they all appeared to carry swords shaped from bones. An honor guard, Marack surmised.

"Deliver your message and know this, if this is some sort of trick I will not die alone," Marack said with more bravo than he felt.

“Valor and bravo will only get you so far. Listen to our words and know the truth in them. The fate of all the lands depends upon you passing on this message to the kings and Lords of your own lands. Darkness walks this earth once more in the form of the Moroi. They are calling all the tribes of the desert and yonder lands to their banner and already their ranks swell. To long has your alliance outcast its criminals and enemies to this desert. The Moroi mean to rule all the lands."

Marack thought on the information that he had been provided. It was true that he had noticed differences in the desert of late, all the Wardens had but this was the first time he had heard of a war coming. But could he really believe Sandhags. They had not yet made a move on him that was true, but years of distrusts made him wary.

"So why do you deliver this message to me and why lead me out here to the desert. You know there is no love lost between us?" Marack asked at last, his mind racing.

"About a mile over those dunes is a cave with a well. It is said that one true of heart can look into the well and a boon will be provided. Some like me believe you are that one. I have watched you from afar with my sight and although my clan has protected this cave for generations, I believe it’s time to move forward after all you awoken now walk the land," the lead Sandhag responded.

"And if I am not true of heart, what then?" Marack enquired thinking very hard about the reference to awoken. He had read this term a few times in lost scriptures, something he had been doing to raise his skills in archaeology before the dark day but why would they be calling him this.

"Well, then the guardian will rise from his grave and kill you" replied the lead Sandhag in a calm manner.