The large camp of Barbarian's stretched out along a frozen wall, a few leagues south of their home village of Halas. Hunting season had begun, despite the bitter winter cold, and they had settled in for the long, upcoming months of hard work. Warriors in shining heavy armor milled about, making their preperations with the usual boasting, rough-housing and loud chatter. The cooks and tailors sat in their seperate staked-out spots in the camp, busily preparing their own tools of trade, preparing for the tasks that we're necessary for the survival of the group.

        The group was almost exclusivly made up of Barbarian warriors and a few shamen. Most had at least one young, eager apprentice that seemed a constant shadow, following and learning the trade that had been chosen for them.

        Except for one.

        Near the edge of the encampment, sitting alone, absently cutting practice spears out of a hard, dark wood, was a  young wood elf girl. She was short, thin, and in comparison to her Barbarian companions, appeared almost like a  sprite, her height barely even reaching up to the chests of even the shortest women. Her hair was long, a rich deep auburn, her skin a smooth cocoa brown, and her green eyes always seemed to sparkle with a strange mischief. She was barely 15 years old, and this life was all she had ever known. From the information she had gathered (her insatiable curiosity and neverending questions were a constant sorce of amusment and annoyance) she had been found on a hunting expedition in a far, far away land called Qeynos Hills. They weren't sure how she had gotten there, as her kind, so far as they knew, came from a small continent far beyond this land, and even across a huge Ocean. She often got lost in her daydreams, trying to picture that city in the trees that she had been told was the home of others like her. She wondered what it would be like to live high, high up in the trees in the land they called the Faydark. I bet life there isn't so boring as this, she thought more than once.

        "Islene! Concentrate on your work, girl. We need those spears." An elder warrior neamed Tarin barked at her.  "Sorry Tarin." Damn, she'd upset him again. What a temper, she thought, and stifled a giggle. She sighed heavily and tried to force herself to focus on the boring sticks she was whittling to sharp points. Despite her lack of concentration, she worked very quickly, with nimble fingers and an agility that the Barbarians did not possess.  She did envy their strength. They seemed like tall, immovable pillars of toughness.

        "Islene!" Oh, what I have done NOW? She thought. But it was Esmarla calling her name. "Come here dear, I  have something I need you to do."
        "But Marla, I'm working on these spears, and..."
        "Oh those can wait." She said, ignoring the hot look that Tarin shot at her. Islene looked at Tarin, who only grunted and walked away.
        She walked over to where Esmarla sat, carefully mending a torn leather tunic. "Meldar wants to talk to you."
        "Meldar??" She asked, feeling shock. Meldar? What could want with me? Meldar led the camp, he was old,  older than anyone even professed to know, and respected above all others. He was sought out for advice about  most everything, but mostly kept to himself. He had never said more than 2 words to Islene that she  remembered.
        Although she had noticed him looking at her curiously of late, and it had piqued her interest.
        "Now?" She asked.
        "Yes dear. He's holed up in his tent as usual. Go see him now." She gave her a brief smile of encouragment and went back to her sewing.
Her mind reeling, Islene shook her head and walked to the old man's tent. She cleared her throat, feeling suddenly nervous, and opened her mouth to announce herself.

        "Come in child." His voice came before she'd said a word, and silently she parted the thick brown curtain and  walked into his dim tent. "Sit down."
        She fell gracefully onto the floor near the door and looked up at him expentantly.
        "I have good news for you, girl." He said softly. "It might pain you a bit at first, but it's for the best of course."

        Her heart began to pound with excitement. What in the world was he talking about?

        "You're to be leaving us Islene. A caravan will be coming through here shortly, and they've agreed to take you with them."
        "But..but why, where??" She stammered, feeling both frightened and thrilled all at once. Leave...she was going to leave here! The restlessness that always sat inside her fluttered up into her heart. When the warriors returned from their long travels, they often would sit at the fire long into the night, drinking and talking of the things they had seen. Tales of places where dark bears and fierce lions roamed across vast open plains, and strange creatures flew and crawled and ran, dangerous and beautiful. The idea suddenly seemed so incredible that she began to laugh, near hysterics. No more spears for me, she thought crazily, the idea sending her into absolute fits of  laughter. The old man waited patiently for her to get a hold of herself.
        "It won't all be easy, my young friend." He said seriously. The world is more dangerous than you imagine it to be, and more wonderous. "Perhaps someday you will make it back to that treehouse you elves love so much." He snickered as though he thought it was a silly thing, but the sentence sparked her curiosity more.
        "You know of it? How do I get there? Are they really all like me? Do they really have magic that controls the weather and moves people from place to place with a thought?"
        "Aye, that I have heard they do." He replied. "You may know more about that then you're aware of." She tilted her head to the side as she always did when she was confused, and began to ask more questions. "No time for that. You'll find out soon enough what it means." He sighed then. "I'll be sad to see you go Islene." He said suddenly. "You brought a bit of light into this place." He gave her a warm smile that confused her even more. "Go get your things ready, they'll be here before dark. Human traders, I believe. One of them is a dear old friend of mine, so I trust you'll be treated well. They may have a few stragglers with them, a gnome I think, maybe one of those half-breeds."
        "Half-breeds?" She knew of the gnomes, knew very little but that they were tiny and quick witted, but what was a half-breed?
        "Ah, you'll see soon. It's going to a long journey Islene. You'll have plenty of time to get to know your companions." HE reached out with one large, gnarled hand and touched the side of her face. "Go get ready, I don't want to keep them waiting when they get here." She nodded, still reeling inside from the overwhelming amount of new information swirling through her head like so much wispy smoke.

        She left he tent, that dazed look still on her face, and walked directly into Tarin, who scowled at her. "Get back to work, we're behind on those now." He said, pointing sharply to the abandoned pile of spears.
"Carve them yourself!" She laughed jubulantly, scampering off to her tent. Esmarla and Tarin exchanged a befuddled look, and Esmarla shrugged.

        Only a few hours later, the caravan arrived. She had packed hurredly, tossing her few possessions into beat up packs. They were at the camp less than an hour, and when they left, she went with them. The humans looked not too different from the Barbarians, only smaller and somewhat more talkative. The person she noticed first however, was like no one she had ever seen. Meldar's words echoed through her head...half-breed...was this a half breed? He had slightly pointed ears, not nearly as pointed as her own, and his features were not as sharp and chisled as her own, but she saw the resemblance.
        "What on Tunare's green earth are you staring at?" He asked her, after she'd been looking at him with such interest for many minutes.
        "Who's Tunare?" She asked the man, who'm she would later learn was called a druid, sitting down next to him and fixing her deep, emerald green eyes on his amused face.
        "Who's Tunare?" He gasped. "My god, you have grown up with Barbarians, haven't you."
        "Tunare is the Mother of all..."

        The caravan disappeared into the darkness...and Islene knew that her adventures were now beginning...
 

The woods were alive around her. She could hear them, feel them, moving through the engulfing, horrifying, suffocating darkness that even her sharp eyesight could not seem to penetrate.

She was alone.

They were all dead, dead or dying, or maybe running for their lives in this terrible living graveyard of a place. She hoped for the latter. Hoped and prayed that even one of her friends had managed to escape these abominations.

She hid in the brush behind a tree, huddled down, trying not to breathe even though her lungs were burning, every muscle in her body screaming out in agony at the abuse of the past few hours.

They had entered the forest far past the barrier of night. Instantly, Islene had felt uneasy, almost afraid at the strange quiet, the lack of life moving around, the absence of warm, welcoming, friendly feelings she always got when entering a forest. Even the trees seemed to glare at her. She knew not to say anything, they had argued and argued about entering before dawn. Some thought it was a death sentence. Most thought it was a silly rumor, pure fiction, nothing but a wives tale. She'd never heard of the place called Kithicor, and had gone along with the group as usual.

What a horrid mistake, she thought, Goddess above how totally horrid.

Melrain, oh dear sweet Mel, he'd fallen so quickly. The girl shuddered in her hiding place, and held her best friend's falchion close to her heart. It was stained with his blood now, and it was all she had left.

She'd watched in stunned and complete terror as a wolf of all things had torn out his throat, and some nightmare of a creature had howled it's undead anguish and cast a spell that made him howl in pain. It happened so quickly.

She felt fresh tears fill her eyes. No, she told herself, no please not now, I can't think of that now.

They had rushed the monsters. She had run to her dearest friend's side as he lay dying, taking his hand, and trying to force out words or comfort, though she had none. He handed her his weapon and said, "Islene, get out of here alive...please do this for me, whatever it takes. We can't win this fight, but someday, someday when you reach your full power you will clear these monsters from Tunare's world." He'd coughed violently. "I believe you can. You will make me proud."

She'd sobbed into his lifeless chest. "I love you Mel, don't go, please don't leave me here. I can't I can't. Oh please Tunare make it stop!" She'd have died right there, her will drained, no longer caring if she made it out of this place, but the air suddenly stirred. The branches of the ominous trees had been flung about in a gust of wind, and she looked up to see a single tiny sparkling light twinkling rebelliously in the black sky.
"For you." She whispered. When she looked down, his body was gone.

She ran. She ran harder and faster than she'd ever run in her whole life. All around her they screamed and howled, she heard the voices of her friends and the screaming of the tortured undead souls mingled together in the screetching chaos of the storm. She felt their bony fingers on her skin, smelled the nauseating stench of the rot and decay, saw the monstrous sights of them, green and bloody, walking bones everywhere.

Now she hid. The edge of the forest was not far away, and she was bracing herself for the final sprint to safety. She cursed herself in her mind, for the fear she felt as she huddled in the darkness. It was pure panic that locked her strong legs, made her heart pound and race, made her head feel dizzy and faint. Stupid, stupid, she swore.

You go now, or you die here with the rest. You could become one of them, one of these hideous creatures.

She took one last deep breath, and stood tense and still, steadying her trembling body for what was ahead.

She moved on pure will. Her whole body burned and ached, she had never felt so afraid, so tired, so incredibly wounded and sad.

The trees flew past her, the sounds of horror, all a blur as she flew over the ground. Suddenly, she fell over something on the ground. Gasping and panting, she felt what was beneath her. Sticky warmth between her fingers, soft lifeless flesh...a worn medallion...

No, NO!!! her mind screamed, and she found her feet and ran. What seemed like a million miles ahead a light was appearing, it seemed impossible, but she ran faster. To her right something unearthly howled, and she felt hot, as though her blood itself was boiling in her veins. She turned and saw the ghoul-thing charging her, and with both hands (knowing it was bad form but not caring) she swung the heavy falchion and it's head rolled in front her feet. She felt her stomach heave dangerously, but still forced her legs to move, leaping over its body and heading to the light that was growing ever brighter.

Her head was throbbing, she'd never felt so amazingly hot before, her skin burned and blistered. What had that thing done to her?
She was in a tunnel now, and the light was stronger, urging her on. With a strength she didn't know she possessed she burst out of the tunnel into the gloomy light of the Commons. The air around her changed. The menace of the forest seemed to vanash almost instantly, and when she saw a large bear lumbering toward her in its calm, lazy way, she burst into tears and collapsed to the ground. She felt her feverish blood cool. Her heart slowed down, although it still ached with loss.

"Oh my, what on earth happened to you?" The soft, gentle voice caught her attention, and she looked up into the kind blue eyes of the human stranger who stood before her. He knelt on the ground and placed a friendly, reassuring hand on her forehead. She found herself unable to speak, it seemed all she had left were tears.

"Come. We'll get you to a warm bed and I'm sure you'll feel much better." He lifted her into his strong arms as she sobbed brokenly into his safe shoulder, and carried her away.