[Valan Quinn]

Trying his best not to grin, the young man bore the weight of the huge hand that now rested on his shoulder. Valan looked on silently as the massive warrior bellowed and produced two more mercenaries. They were extremely large as well, bearing the same kilted uniform that he had seen all around the camp. Aside from being equipped with similar spears, bucklers, and chain mail shirts, they had noticeable differences. The first was a towering, redheaded fellow, lugging a longbow and what seemed to be crossing the borders of a sword into the likeness of a large, metal fence post; a stark contrast to Valan’s own light and agile rapier. The second man sported short, midnight hair like his own, wielding a tremendous war axe and crossbow. Unbeliveably, these formidable warriors were now under the command of… “me?”

Valan swallowed hard as the situation that initially seemed like a chore, snowballed into something that would prove to be much more perilous. He had imagined somewhat, of all the possible things these nameless creatures could be: orcs, goblins, even some feral beasts that had fled their wilderness territory to feast upon the flesh of the Archadoon residents. Never would Valan have guessed that the perpetrators of these hideous acts would be… the undead. This was bad. The young man had only heard tavern stories about the undead, much less fought one. How do you even kill an undead? ”I wish he ‘was’ coming with us…” Val thought to himself.

But now was not the time to waver. The great swordsman in history never backed away from a challenge. Not even when the odds were against them. This one wouldn’t either. “Alright, boys.” He said boldly, unsheathing his bravado as one might a sword. “I suppose the proper place to start would be the last place these things were seen, and fought. Agreed?” He looked at the both of them, trying to read the expression on their faces. How would they take to being under Valan’s orders? “Now I haven’t the slightest of where that is- so lead the way.”