These are tales from a land not our own. They are of monsters and men, of dragons and knights, but not in the way usually depicted in fantasy. In this world, two massive continents are divided by a vast river. In the West lays the Dark Empire, named thus not for its vile deeds, or visions of world conquest, conquest takes paper work after all and who really likes paper work? But is named instead for the people, or rather peoples, that make up its population. In the West a Minotaur's only job opportunity isn't guarding some dusty old labyrinth, though there's nothing wrong with taking up the family business, but instead he can be a china shop owner. Where a simple orcish farmer doesn't have to worry about a some rouge dragon stealing his sheep, and is able to sue the living day lights out of the flying rat. In the East, are the lands called the Many Kingdoms. Home to the lands of Man, the mountain fortress of the Dwarves, and the forest resorts of the Elves. It is a divided, but cultured place, with deep ties into magic, religion, and art alike. Just avoid the back alleys of the city of South Harbor at night, unsavory fellows roam there. Fellows with very sharp blades. These are the stories of the people of this world, and how they have learned to deal with each other. Like annoying relatives that you can't get rid off, so you just had to learn to deal with them. [Author's Note: I wrote the first story some months ago for a creative writing class. It went over well with them and my family, who for the pass months have been prodding me to publish it in some shape or form, so here we are. It should be noted that each "Tale" (should there be more) will be a semi-standalone piece(s) that will have some connecting element to the others. Usually I eagerly await what is thought of my story, and will be appreciative of any feedback, whether it be positive or negative. Though I do ask that it at least be constructive. Thanks for reading, Metalsword, a.k.a Tim]