The sun was setting on a horizon of vast farmland. The land was lush and green, well tended to by loving hands. The harvest was just about ready to come in, fruits and vegetables plump and ripe for the picking. It was only a matter of days now before the farmers tended their land to prepare for winter. A road split the land neatly in half, sturdy fences on either side to let travelers know to stay off. It was a dirt road, but sturdy and compact; a well-traveled merchant's road for the farmers of the valley. Along this road, hidden amongst the farms was a sleepy community where the farmers would meet weekly for activities and meetings. It was a homely community, with a broad expanse of a main road with a large sculptured center-piece. It was a natural spring, concocted atop of it a piece of miraculously carved art and engineering to form a self-powered fountain. Around it was a natural town center, with the mayor's office and village meeting hall situated just behind, with a series of naturally occurring town staples up and down the street just adjacent to the hall. A blacksmith's, an apothecary, a tailor, and two different general shops whose owners had been in a feud for decades. The land was the typical, ideal hamlet. Or it had been, until the gangs had arrived. ----- Along the Main Road (as it had been dubbed by the farm peoples), a lone figure skidded along the path. The sun had continued it's descent, and cast a long shadow ahead of the man. He sat astride a steel horse, the hum of it's ghostbox audible even in the distance. Large sunglasses sat on his face, keeping the wind and what little light there was from his eyes, a bandanna wrapped firmly around the lower half of his face. Brown hair whipped around across his forehead, and sweat mixed with the dirt and grime of his skin. A hand twisted one of the grips across the handlebars of his steel horse, the ghostbox changing the pitch of it's hum in response, slowing down as he crested a hell overlooking the village. His eyes lingered on the town before looking down at the items strewn about the small carriage along the back of his trike. He frowned underneath his bandanna and he reached back, taking the long sword sticking out so prominently and laying it flatter, hiding it amongst the other knick-knacks he had. Shrugging one-armed, somewhat satisfied, he turned around and took back to his journey home.