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Part I—Focus under the Ring of Stone

Chapter 1—Saturas

I stood before one of the greatest men within the Colony. I held a Focus Stone in one hand and an almanac in the other. I felt peculiarly insignificant compared to the High Mage of the Circle of Water, whom I presently stood before. I had just recently entered the New Camp after a long day of Orks, invocations, dead and mad Sect Campers, and a vile god. Next to that, I was almost killed by the Mercenaries who were guarding the Mage's chambers, just because I got some stupid password mixed up. Oh, well, I guess its not the end of the world...yet.

"Yes, boy? What is it?"
Saturas spoke first. All the events of the day made me a little nauseous, and my head span: I gawked at him. The Mage lost his patience. "What is it boy? Speak!"
"Y—Y'berion is dead!" I stammered. Curse my anxious body!
"Y'berion...dead?" Saturas went wide-eyed, "how could this happen?"
I took a breath. "I've witnessed the invocation of the Sleeper, and when the ritual began, and great light burst near his head, then he fainted away lifelessly." I tried to speak with importance.
"This is not good," Saturas said, shaking his head, "what about the Sleeper? Did the invocation have any breakthroughs?"
I spoke cleanly for the first time. "Apparently, during the ritual, we all had the same vision: of an Ork in a cave. We all thought it was the path to freedom, but instead it was the road to death for many of the Brotherhood's brave men. The cave we sought was teeming with Orks, and many Templars were killed. In fact all the Templars were killed."
"Then the Sleeper is..." Saturas started.
"The Sleeper is none other then an Evil Arch Demon." I finished.

"This is bad news indeed." Saturas leaned against the wall for support. Suddenly he frowned. "And who is leading the Brotherhood now? The ruthless Cor Kalom?"
I shook my head. "No. Cor Kalom took some Templars and ran off in search of the Sleeper. Apparently, he believes the god is somewhere within the Barrier."
"Good," Saturas said, "As long as Cor Angar is in command, the Brotherhood can rebuild it's frail society."
"Cor Angar believes that the Sleeper is not the solution to our escape, so he sent me to you with two very important artifacts."
Saturas raised his brows. "Oh? And what have you brought?"
I reached into my knapsack. "I have this almanac." I said, handing it to him.
Saturas took it, running his fingers along the binding. "Good, I have been searching for this book for years. It contains valuable information on all of the five Focus Stones."
"Yes, and I have this Focus," I started.
Saturas snatched it from my hands. "Excellent! Everything is running along perfectly. You have already done us a great deed here in the New Camp. But I must ask you one more."

"One more task?" I asked the Mage, "What is it? I'll do anything."
"We need all the other Focus Stones within the Barrier. Without their focusing power, we magicians could never concentrate our power only on the Ore mound. Do you get my lead?"
"Yes, yes! I get the picture." I said. "But if I'm going to find all four within the Barrier, I'll need some sort of—"
Saturas cut me off. "Map? I have one here." He handed me a map of the Colony. I recognized it immediately, except for the star that covered the page.
Confused, I looked up at Saturas.
He pointed to the star. "Each point of the star is the currently logged resting site of one of the Focus Stones."

I looked carefully at the map. The point of the star closest to the New Camp was just south of here, up the mountain trail. The word surrounding the area read: RING OF STONE. I made my decision. I'd search for the Focus under
the Ring of Stone first.

Chapter 2—The Long Hike

I trudged out of the cave in which the New Campers resided in and out toward the upper gate. I knew it was going to be a long day, and had decided last night to leave early the next morning. As I walked along the edge of the lake, the rising sun just barely casting light upon me, a familiar figure came striding out from the bar. It was my old friend
Mordrag, and he seemed calm.
"Mordrag?" I said, "What are you doing here?"
"I thought you could use something of mine."
"What?" I asked, stopping next to the dam.
"I hope for your sake that you know what you're doing," Mordrag said as he reached into his pack. "Here, take this short blade, the Thorn of Wounds. And take this Ore for celebrating your return with the Focus Stone."
I sheathed the knife and pocketed the Ore. "Thank you my friend. But how did you know about my quest?"
Mordrag smiled as he turned and walked back toward the Cave. "Words travel fast on wheels."

I turned and walked out of the upper gate and into the rice fields. I saw the peasants up early like me and picking rice. Some of them looked up at me and smiled. Some even spoke.
"Good luck, boy," and "Chin up, lad."
I walked out of the lower gate, past the Rogue and started up the Mountain trail that led south-east. As I walked up the side of the mountain, I caught a glimpse of the tower of the Old Camp, the spire streaking the sky with its four semi-spires on the top. I stood there, looking at it, wishing I were standing within the camp next to my good friend Diego and eating lots of grilled meat.

A thought suddenly entered my head: I could leave my quest and go to the rotting walls of the camp. Saturas would be mad, but he'd send another man. But then I could never live with the fact that I hadn't, at least, tried. For there had to be a way out of the Barrier. After all, what goes up comes down, right?

A distant, low humming sound filled the air, coming closer and closer. Padded footsteps—not human—were coming closer and closer. Alarmed, I reached for my blade, but did not equip it. I wanted to be sure it wasn't friendly.
Four Snappers came walking into my view. They all looked to be adult-size and very strong. Surprise filled my brain, which suddenly moved without my consent.
I drew my blade!
Curse my retardism! The sound of my blade scraping against my sheath as I drew it attracted the Snappers, and they all looked over at me and screamed.
I closed my eyes in anger directed at myself.
' "Crap..." I exhaled.
The first Snapper, the biggest, came at me from the cliff's edge. A mistake by the Snapper. I quickly side-stepped its only attempt at my head and threw my blade into its back. The animal howled in pain as I pulled my blade from it and kicked it off the cliff. The other three, seemingly horrified that I had killed their friend, staid at a distance.
Adrenaline running through my blood, I decided to taunt one. I reached out with one gloved hand.

"Come on, pretty!" I sneered.
Boy, what a retard I was back then. Catching me off-guard, the beast jumped me, growling as it snagging my leg. Crying out, I raised my blade and drove it into the animal's stomach. It was still kicking when I tried to pull my blade out from it—another mistake. The animal rose, blade and all, and wobbled trying to get its balance. It fell off the cliff with my blade, curse it!
The other two Snappers turned their attention to me and snarled. I drew the knife Mordrag had given me, thankful he had been there. The next attack came from my right.
This was my part to shine! The Snapper came at me from the opposite side of the cliff. I jumped up and over the Snapper, who, trying to bite me, didn't see the cliff. The idiot animal ran right off the cliff. I don't even think it realized it had fallen until it hit the ground, for I heard no scream. Meanwhile, using the momentum of my jump, I kicked the last Snapper in a sharp rock, breaking it's neck.
It died immediately.
"Snapper scum." I said as I sheathed my sword.

As I turned to continue along my path up the mountain, my cheerful whistling was cut off by a loud snort and kicking of dirt. Something was right behind me. A breath of hot air ran over my neck as I dared not look around. Suddenly close to death, I reverted to sarcasm.
"Mud, please tell me that's you."
Gathering up my courage, I turned around. A small round head was very close, attached to a rather large body: a Bloodhound. It's head was strongly small: enough to cut off with my knife? It was worth a try. I chuckled as I
unsheathed my knife. The animal opened its small mouth to deliver the killing blow.
I sliced once.
Its head rolled down the mountain trail.
I turned up the trail and continued, chattering to myself. "You know, it did have that sorry face my old buddy Mud did. A result of having no friends besides your pillow," I said, nearly laughing at my own joke.

* * *

A great ball of fire flew right past my head. Surprised, I equipped my bow and had to search through my knapsack for arrows. I found one and jumped up expecting to see a Mage charging more fireballs, but instead I saw a familiar face and a Bloodhound, fighting one another. I sighed to myself and placed the arrow on my thumb, pulling back on the string. I let the arrow fly—right into the Bloodhound's neck. The animal fell to the ground, and I stood, looking over at the Mage. It was Milten who saw me and waved me over.
I jogged over to Milten with ease, passing the dead hound.
"Milten? It's you isn't it?"
"Yes, and I'm surprised that you're here, my old friend." Milten said calmly. "I haven't seen you in ages."
"Why have you come here, though?" I asked.
"I'm here to find a certain artifact. An old Orkish Talisman to be exact," Milten said.
"Hmm," I said, "I'm here for an artifact as well—some sort of ancient Focus Stone."
"Wow," Milten said, his brows raised, "you're really brave to come here in search of a Focus Stone."
I spoke clearly for the first time. "Why? What makes this place so dangerous?"
"Well," Milten said, "A long time ago, before the Barrier was created, this site was made sacred—an ancient burial for some ancient person. The Gods decreed that any man who was foolish enough to go try and steal any treasures down there should be condemned as an undead guardian of the tomb. And any man who dies to the guardian shall become the guardian."

I shook my head. "But if we take the Talisman and the Focus, wont we become undead creatures as well?"
Milten reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll with a purple marking. He handed it to me.
"Not if we kill him first."
"Okay, I get it. This must be a 'Death to Undead' scroll then, huh?"
"Yes it is." Milten said. "Use it on the Guardian and no one, or, actually nothing else, got it?"
"Yes." I said. "But you'd better be watching my back."
"I will." Milten said, pointing. "The cave is this way."
"Right." I said. "Lets get that Focus!"

Chapter 3—The Undead Guardian

Milten and I stood at the entrance to the crypt. Scroll in one hand and knife in the other. Milten had his Fireball rune out and ready.
"Are you ready?" I turned to him.
"Ready as I'll ever be." Milten said.
"Right." I said, starting down the tunnel. We only had to walk a short distance before we came to solid stone. It was pitch-black inside the cavern as I reached into my knapsack and pulled out a torch.
"Light it!" Milten whispered. "Hurry."
I grabbed my only torch and rubbed it against the ground, getting enough friction to spark it to light. The cavern suddenly lit up with other torches lighting, some sort of ancient trick.
An old, sunken face loomed out of the shadows and moaned. Milten shrank back in freight. I merely frowned.
"What the hell is that? It can't be you...Mud?" I said in pure sarcasm as I threw my knife into the monster's
forehead. It blinked and looked up at the knife in it's skull, moaning once again. My eyebrows went up in amazement.
"Idiot!" Milten shouted. "Use the scroll!" Suddenly remembering the scroll, I raced through the words, chanting the spell.

A purple wave of Magic flew from my fingertips and landed right on the Undead's soul, sucking it from its rotting body. The Undead screamed as its soul was sucked from this world into the next. The purple wave also seemed to make the Undead's body disintegrate as well. It was all over rather quick, and I went over to the charred remains and picked up my knife.
Milten ran over to me in fright as I looked up at him.
"More!" Milten said as he readied his rune. They had come from behind. A dozen skeletons stood
from where we had come in.
"Too bad for them," I said. "Blast 'em Milten!"
A fireball about the size of the entrance to Saturas's quarters flew over to strike the opposite side.
All the skeletons immediately disintegrated, whatever was left was flung across the room. The damage to the room wasn't what one would've expected, as the crypt did not collapse.

"Nice." I said, sheathing my knife. I grabbed the torch I had dropped and raised it high, trying to find the pedestal on which the Focus rested upon. Over to my left, the pedestal stood. I observed it silently: no focus.
As Milten wandered about the room, I spotted two chests farther to the left, both unopened.
"Look!" I said, as I ran over to them and quickly opened both. It did not take me long to find a shiny blue object. A strange liquid swirled inside.
"It looks as if that's the Focus you're looking for." Milten said, reaching out a dirty hand and holding the cylinder. I closed that chest and looked inside the other. The Talisman lay there as I picked it up and handed it to
Milten.
"So there's your Talisman, Milten. Take it. You've definitely earned it."
"Thank you, my friend." Milten said as we walked out of the Crypt, past the dead undead and into daylight. The sun was directly above my head. Could the morning have passed so quickly?
"I'll make sure Corristo is informed of your deeds here. I promise."
"I need to get back to Saturas, though." I said, having another look at the Focus before I teleported.
Milten said,"I'll be back in the Old Camp, uh...what's your name again?"

Unfortunately, I was too engrossed in the Focus to be paying attention to Milten. Embarrassed, I looked up. "Hmm...What?"
"Never mind. It's not important." Milten said. "If you need me, I'll be back in the Old Camp."
"Yeah. See ya." I said.
As Milten began his walk back to the Old Camp, I raised the teleportation scroll Saturas had given me and chanted the words. I lifted into the sky and a blue shield covered my body, starting with my feet. I then warped right to the Water Mages' chamber.
I handed Saturas the Focus...he seemed pleased.

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