A group of seven transversed the land with haste under the watch of the sun while seated on horses.
At this moment in time, a voice rang out amongst them.
"Sir, we're almost there"
The man being addressed, the leader of the group, narrowed his gaze.
This was Sir Cavarl, a Master-rank Mage that had been dispatched on a reconnaissance mission to Windless Peaks.
He was rather slim, almost lanky, and had low brown hair. His face held up a pair of glasses and a staff was strapped to the side of his horse.
The image of a settlement came into view.
It was the outpost of Windless Peaks, and that made him frown even more.
'What happened here?'
Before he could ruminate even more, his ears picked up a sound, that of a marching horse.
A short man covered in a cloak arrived at the entrance to the outpost at the same time as Cavarl.
'Hmm'
They were both interested in who the other guy was, but the moment their eyes met-
"What rotten luck is this?!"
