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Ye Tales of Erun the Fearless

Within this book I shall narrate the startling and amazing tales of my adventures, which have occurred throughout the Far East. Wrestling with fearsome Arcachonian giants, confronting the Divine Avatar of Sartan himself and escaping the clutches of the notorious Bandit Chiefs of Lantzas; these are but a few of the exploits that you shall find within.

Chapter 1

I arrived upon the morning tide in the fine city of Lasop. The sun behind its sails, the fine ship Foamskimmer sailed into harbour. Thanking the captain for swift passage, I immediately disembarked and set out with firm resolve to enjoy the attractions of the city. And in Lasop there are many! Do not let the tales scare you away; for all of its ruined citadel walls and signs of war, the city was bustling with activity, fresh fish for sale at market and some of the most exquisite whores available this side of Atamara.

After the sights and sounds had been taken in, and the city's delights had been well and truly sampled, I resolved to make my way North as soon as possible. Erun the Fearless knows his duty, and there were monsters to be slain! In particular I had heard of a sizeable horde of creatures that had taken root in Lantzas, and that with the region in disorder there was no local lord so resolve the problem. After purchasing a swift horse and provisions, and riding hard for a day and a night through the quiet townsland of Larmebsi, I at last reached Lantzas.

The stories I had heard from talkative sailors had been no lie. The divide between Lantzas and Larmebsi was immense. A well kept road came to a sudden halt in front of a ruined sign, the writing upon which had long been scratched away. Carefully tended homesteads and fields gave way to the barren wasteland which makes up Lantzas. It was dry and dusty, and seemed ignorant of the fact that a sizeable river ran swiftly and strongly to the east. Nevertheless, armed with the advice of locals on the border, I set off into unknown.

Shortly into my journey across the region, the real masters of Lantzas showed themselves. Bandits, tall, strong spearmen with merciless eyes, were waiting behind a rocky outcrop for unwary travellers. Naturally upon their appearance I drew my sword, being unwilling to part with what few coins I had left. A short fight ensued, in which the bandits' ferocity proved to be no match for my steel. I sent them howling off back into the hills, hopefully to think again about the wisdom of preying upon neutrals.

After several days within the region fruitlessly searching for monsters, I came across the town of Fallas. One of the largest settlements in the region, the inhabitants had recently conspired to eject the local lord from his nearby seat of Castle Lantze. No doubt they believed they could take hold of the region themselves, but instead it had fallen into anarchy. Suspicious, and eager to do something positive to improve the plight of the locals, I rode into town on my trusty steed, whom I had decided to name Dusty.