Most nights were quiet, quiet enough for everyone to be asleep. The outskirts of Arendanna have been quiet for many centuries until the war started. Then the fires began, the ransacking of the villages, the echoes of childrens screams. The town you were in was Genvale, a town built around a lake which was renown for it's bountiful fish harvest and lovely architecture. It was something you should see in a dream, the glimmer of the candles inside each house, crickets chirping which created an ambient soundtrack to the village. It was almost harvest time, about a couple months or so until they had to bring in all the wheat and fish then ship it off to other neighboring villages. Though war loomed over their heads, they kept living their peaceful life just as usual. Horses approached the town with torches lit and weapons sheathed. The two guards stationed at the wooden gates, they went forward toward the group, but they were immediately slaughtered. The night was soon filled with screams and blood, which echoed through the thoughts of those who escaped. All who escaped fled to the town nearest to them, a town known as Biltmore, with many refugees from the attack. Alexander Shadowmere, or Shadowmere the Lustful, was one of the most renown thief in Arendanna or in the western lands. He had stolen from kings, queens, bandits, and mercenaries. He really had wronged an enormous amount of people. Everyone knew him, and most likely hated him. After robbing a sum of people in Baleford, he had now set his sights on the trading village of Biltmore. His sharpened his blades, dyed his hair, and got a new set of clothes from a contact he had. Maybe he would find love, some gold, and maybe a nice bed. Alexander was never cocky, but he acted like he owned the whole world.