The deserts are a fearful place. Not only are there many strange and wild beasts therin but the dryness and the heat are a battle unto themselves. Too hot to wear armour too treacherous not to. I fought may way through the shifting sands dispatching first a scorpion then a zombie on and on stumbling and bleeding with exhaustion and the wounds I carried. I should have gone back. I know that now. I was delerious and weak. All I could think was onward for the Shadowwolves, vengance for the Wolf Sisters. I could hear the spirits but not what they said over them a voiced hissed of a need for blood and of horrific vile mutilations. I stopped short and the voices stopped I started again and it snickered.
I knew it was that demonic halberd. The vile cursed thing had been trying to reach me to speak to me for days. I will not give in, once I can claim a new weapon for my own the halberd will be distroyed.
At that moment I suddenly came back to myself and realised there where to shapes shambling towards me. I knew that I would not survive the fight but I refused to go down without putting up resistance. I mustered what strength I had left and threw myself at the first taking him to ground, and his head, but the second knocked me off my feet and I was falling backward, through the sand, through darkness, through the sky, through a roof and slamming down hard on my back on the floor of Milltown inn. My halberd lay beside me some distance away but I deared not touch it. Looked around Isolde sat on the floor playing with one of misteress Ventili's dishcloths and Venus Darkmoon stood by the fire stewing herbs in a pot.
"Greetings Wench" she said smiling.
I pulled myself up and dusted off, leaving the weapon where it lay, and nodded to Venus.
I was safe for now. I thought.
Another day, another dance, another demon falls.
Another tale, another time, another task performed by all

A different day and my sleep is more restful and I awake with the first rays of dawn. I lay still contemplating the stillness of the morning and the peace of my dreams. For a few moments I forgot myself, who I was and where, but only for a few moments.
The clanging and cries of the town crier brought me back to myself reminded me that there is discord and demons in the land. A demon army outside Dundee's walls. The summons of call to arms. The whisperings of lost souls singing a battle hymn to me.
I clambered out of bed and strapped on my armour hurredly and unsheathed my broadsword as I dashed out into the streets and hurried out to the plains almost imediatly meeting the officer I rushed into the creature heedless of anything but the call for vengance. A red cloud obscuring my vision, thoughts and actions. When it cleared The foul creature had fallen though I was heavly wounded though the pain could not match that which pulled at my heart.
"For the Eternal Light!" I cried into the morning air "For Valorn! For the Shadowwolves!"
Then I saw it, in the grass lay the demon's wepon, a halberd. I picked it up it felt good in my hands. The spirits cried out for me to drop the accursed thing. I would not, could not, abandon the chance to destroy the demons with their own weapon. I sheathed my broadsword with a smirk of pleasure.
I downed some potions then pressed on slaying 6 more demons and taking their wretched scalps as my prize. Then wearliy, but with the satisfaction of serving my duity I returned home. Leaning the halberd against the wall I returned to my bed, still fully armoured, to doze until the noon time. But I could not rest. I rolled over and gazed at the Halberd against the wall. Yet I had the sense that it is it that is watching me.

I wake this day in a cold sweat trembling with the images of the past. The hauting shadows. They were there, again. They always are.
The Cry of the Shadowwolf it was once called. The howling lupine battle cry that sounded over the plains as we charged down the demon hordes, now nothing more than a lament for their own tortured souls. I cry with them when their souls haunt me in sleep and pledge myself to their vengance and the freedom of Valorn even more vehmnantly than the last.
The peace of the oncoming dawn does not calm me. Nor does the Crier's call of all being well.
All is not well with me.