"What do I do, Papa?   You were always there for me, but now...", Cailin's voice left her as the pain of her father's death filled her heart and and brought on thoughts of uncertainty in her future.

It had been twenty-five years since the Battle of the Blood Gates where the people of Aeranor, human, elf, dwarf, gnome and halfling, joined together as one to vanquish the evil persona known as The Lingering Dark and send him to the hellish abyss from where he came.  During that time, the world became a peaceful and prosperous place... a place where it was once again safe for two people to fall in love and raise a family.   A place where the races of Aeranor put aside old rivalries, hatreds and prejudices to rebuild a world nearly ripped apart by war.

There were occasions where bands of The Lingering Dark's surviving minions (mainly Orcs, Trolls and Goblins) would raid villages to seek supplies and sate their bloodlust, but those were becoming less frequent as time passed... except for the one eight years ago upon the fields surrounding her home.   Answering the call to defend their village, her father led a group to fend off the attackers and was wounded severely, nearly costing him his life.   During the skimish a few Orcish raiders slipped into the village to look for more valuable goods, what they found was some wounded militia and those rendering them aid.   The bloodlust overcame the Orc's need for supplies and they slaughtered them all... one of the caregivers was Cailin's mother.

As Cailin looked down upon her father's grave a cold chill came over her, not one of grief and doubt, but of a nature she never really felt before...true fear.   Not the kind that just scares you, but a fear that grasps your heart and tears your soul from your body.   Shaken by the experience, Cailin calmed herself with the thought that it was just a passing moment caused by her emotional state.   Rising to her feet, Cailin turned and began the lonely walk back home.

Looking toward the horizon, she saw clouds gathering in the distance and thought to herself, "looks like a bad storm is beginning to brew...".