arcus stood, tasted the air ... and smiled grimly.

The stench of troll was coming from the north, a change of wind betraying their presence. At times like this he recalled Jaruus's words: "Get down-wind of them; choose your position well and wait patiently. When they come, strike fast, hit hard and cut deep."

Settling back behind a boulder, Marcus gave his runesword a reassuring stroke. "Not long now, not long," he whispered as it returned the faint blue glow of its magic charge.

The forest around him, "Bloodwood", was ugly. But it hadn't always been so. Before the coming of the trolls in his youth, it had been "Fairwood", a favourite place for lovers to sneak out of town and share some quiet time enjoying it's calm beauty. Jaruus had often told Marcus, with a glint in his eye, that it was somewhere in this very forest that he had been conceived. In better days. Better days...

But now it was called "Bloodwood" for all the spilt blood of Realmers and trolls alike which stained it permanently red. Never again would this place hear happy laughs and cries of pleasure. Also gone forever were "The Dancing Fields" and "The Forest of Peace". "Gone forever," Marcus thought, sadly shaking his head.

>From just beyond the trees Marcus heard the soft sound "Gnoor, gnoor, gnoor" which chills the blood of every Realm warrior that hears it, the sound of trolls dealing horribly with the bodies of the dead.

"They have made a kill," thought Marcus. "God rest the poor souls they have taken."

With nervous tension rising, he ran his eye over the grove one more time. There was no visible sign of the wizard Condor, apart from a slight shimmering in the air over by the cedar tree. Marcus liked Condor, despite a general mistrust of wizards; this one was approachable, humorous and honourable. Oh, and powerful, he reminded himself. When you are facing a pack of trolls, you can do worse but to have a powerful wizard at your side...

And a powerful warrior.

Also hidden on the other side of the grove was the Lady Sephia, as beautiful and dangerous a woman ever to strap on a sword. With her long, blonde hair, hazel eyes, full, lips and a figure to make even the most hardened Adventurer go weak at the knees ... Marcus had fallen for her like a ton of magic.

He smiled as he remembered their first night together. They had met at the Bard's Tune Tavern, he contentedly relaxed with ale, she sparkling, as always, the centre of attention. They had talked and laughed together until it was closing time. She had taken him by the hand and led him to one of the quiet back rooms with a wicked look in her eyes saying, "Come, fine Adventurer, show me just how adventurous you really are..."

With a deafening roar, a bolt of blue magic hit Marcus full in the chest, instantly ending his reverie and throwing him back onto the blood-red ground. Dazed, he shook his head and looked around.

Condor was now visible, hands out front pouring fireballs into the first of four giant trolls that had just broken into the clearing. "Fry, you spawned motherless bastards, fry!" he yelled, his magic charging the air, turning it hot.

Sephia had leapt over the log that had concealed her and was attacking the second of the troll warriors. "This does not look good," thought Marcus. "Something is wrong, I wish..." But before he could finish the thought, the third troll was on him.

It had blood in its eyes. And on its hands and chest. Dried, flaking blood and fresh red liquid together in a hellish mixture. And blood dripping from the corners of its evil mouth. Marcus stifled an urge to retch as the monster's club came down with a sickening impact on his shield. That was enough. It made Marcus mad.

The blue haze cleared from his head and was replaced with the red haze of battle-lust. With a full-throated yell, he leapt at the surprised monster and slashed at its head. But the troll warrior was also quick to react and brought up its club to block the blow. "Thunk", the elven-crafted blade dug deep into the ironwood club and stuck. The troll jerked it's club back, almost taking the runesword with it, but just as his arm was in danger of being wrenched from its socket, Marcus twisted the blade and brought it free. But the movement had unbalanced him and he tumbled, fallen before the giant troll.

Again the troll brought down its club, aiming at Marcus's head, but he rolled nimbly aside just as the weakened wooden mace crashed into the ground and splintered. The troll stopped, confused momentarily at the loss of its weapon, but only for a second. It roared, tossing aside its useless shards, and turned on Marcus who used that extra moment to stand and compose himself.

"Strike fast, hit hard, cut deep," he intoned to himself, a thin, humourless smile coming to his lips. "Strike fast," he yelled as the sword struck into the beast's right shoulder. It let loose a horrendous bellow of pain. "Hit hard!" Marcus slashed again before the troll could recover, this time opening its soft belly. "Cut deep!" The runesword stabbed again, finding its mark in the monster's black heart.

Before the dead troll had hit the ground, Marcus had looked around to take in the scene. Condor was in battle, one-on-one, with a huge troll mage, the air between them sizzling with angry magic. The wizard was visibly weakening, his face set grim with concentration and drenched with sweat as he summoned firebolts and lightning down on his foe. "This is not right," thought Marcus, "what am I missing?"

Sephia was also in trouble. With her back to a rock, she was being pounded by two massive troll warriors. Like a tree against a fierce storm, the blows rained down on her as the trolls chanted their battle cry, "Zaakin, zaakin, za'al".

"They won't be enjoying this for much longer," thought Marcus as he grabbed for his backpack. Inside was his most prized possession. An Orb of Mana. Created by the Elven Ancients -- some say made from pure crystal and light -- they restore magic strength when needed most. Marcus grabbed it and dashed across the clearing.

"Condor, catch!" he yelled, and sent the orb flying towards the wizard, "You need this more than I do!"

"Thank you, my friend," called back Condor catching it deftly in one hand (much to Marcus's relief). "Now, you big, blue mongrel, eat lightning!" And the air crackled with power.

But Marcus didn't stop to watch. He kept running towards where Sephia was overshadowed by the two great monsters that had their backs to him. He chose the one on the left and concentrated on its back, that vulnerable point at the base of its spine, and there he aimed his sword.

"Strike fast," was the only thought in his mind as cleared the final few paces, and the sword found its mark, entering the back and making a grating sound as it separated the beast's vertebrae. It didn't die instantly, but it dropped, quivering to the ground with eyes rolling. The second troll made the mistake of looking around and taking its eyes off the woman warrior in front of it. Tired and weakened as she was, Sephia was an experienced enough hunter to grab any moment's advantage. Her sword swung and took off the troll's weapon hand in one stroke. The monster bellowed and turned to run, but in turning it came to face Marcus who checked it with the tip of his runesword.

"Wrong way," Marcus smiled.

The troll warrior looked confused for a moment. Then its eyes widened, mouth dropped open and it toppled forward, dead. Sephia withdrew her sword from the beast's back and looked angrily at her shattered shield on the ground. "I am going to have some words with Anson and get my money back," she said crossly. "Oh, and thanks, by the way. But you took your time."

Too relieved to be hurt by the barb, Marcus looked in time to see Condor finish the visibly singed troll mage.

"Well, that could have gone better," said the wizard coming over to his two comrades. "What happened?"

"The trolls knew we were here," said Sephia, wiping her blade. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought they had been Hastened and Empowered. They fought very hard."

"Yes," replied Marcus, "that is what was bothering me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. That and another presence."

The three friends went silent and looked at each other, each sharing the same thought. Marcus had heard of vile scum who enhance monsters and follow them around to rob the bodies of their victims. In fact, it was in just such a trap that Jaruus had been killed, the trees and rocks showing marks of a great battle, and the only remaining clue being a burnt black wizard's cowl.

With a wave of his hands, Condor cast the See Invisible spell on the trio and instantly they heard a chilling laugh. Lying on a boulder behind them was a great black wolf. It shimmered and with a flash it transformed into a tall wizard, dressed all in black. With a voice like an echo in a dungeon, the wizard said, "You did well, it was entertaining watching you fight for your lives. You were a good ... diversion." And he laughed again.

"That is Skillet," whispered Condor. "I have heard of him. He is the evil Grand Master who is meant to have been banished long ago. He has immense power."

"I must kill him," said Marcus, staring at the dark wizard.

"You cannot. He is at a level way beyond us, almost invincible," said Condor.

"I must kill him," Marcus repeated and turned to look his friend in the eye. "This is personal."

Condor saw the fierce determination in Marcus's face. "Alright then," he agreed after a long pause, "It is a good day to die."

Moving quickly, Condor cast his power spells on the trio then, most importantly, the spell that reflects most magic back on those who cast it. "Right. We are as ready as we ever can be."

The three turned to face the Grand Master wizard. "Skillet!" called Condor. "Prepare to rot in hell!"

And with that he closed his eyes, raised his arms and called on the memorised text for his most powerful spell -- The Wrath of God. The sky turned purple and the clouds boiled above him and with a deafening roar a massive fireball shot from the sky and engulfed the black-robed wizard.

Lightning flashed. The air turned white in anger.

Condor dropped to his knees, drained with the effort. "That will probably get his attention," he said with a wry smile.

The sizzling magic around Skillet quickly cleared to reveal the Grand Master wizard looking stunned and bent, but far from beaten. Raising himself up to his full height he glared at them. "You DARE to attack ME? You worms, prepare to taste real power." And with that he also raised his hands and started to chant, the same spell as Condor had just called down, The Wrath of God.

The magic hit Marcus like a hammer blow. Flames surrounded him in pure, white heat that danced before his eyes in a macabre display. It singed his hair and entered his lungs and burnt him from the inside. Through the pain he could hear screaming and knew it was coming from his own scorched throat. He dropped to his knees and prayed the torment would stop. His only consolation was in knowing that, due to his friend's magic, most of this evil spell was being returned to it's master -- threefold.

After what seemed an eternity of Hell, the magic eased and Marcus's eyes cleared. He was still on his knees, clutching his sword, the blade now glowing red hot. Beside him Sephia lay unconscious, and Condor dead. Opposite, the black wizard was on one knee, shaking his dazed head and coughing what seemed like blood.

Marcus struggled to his feet and lurched across the scorched earth that separated them. "Now, wizard. Let's see how you fight."

And so the two joined battle. The Adventurer against the Grand Master. Ballads have been sung about this battle and the story retold countless times how the very earth shook and the monsters fled for miles to escape the raw rage that ensued.

Marcus put very ounce of strength and skill into that battle. And his anger. The anger of his dead father. His anger at the trolls, at the thieves, the killed friends, the blood in the forests, rancid spoor in the fields, the rats, stinging wasps, fouled streams, everything ... but, most of all ... the anger at the lost innocence of his beautiful Realm.

Here before him was the embodiment of all that was evil. And he was going to kill it.

Bloodied and weary almost to the point of death, Marcus drew on all his remaining strength for one last, desperate attack. "For The Realm!" he cried as he raised his sword and struck.

With that one massive blow, the Adventurer knocked the smoking sword out of the wizard's hands and put the runesword tip to his bare throat. The evil wizard just stared back coldly. Defeated.

Through clenched teeth, Marcus spoke, almost like a whisper in a church, "You are going to die."

He swung and struck, the sword burst into flames showering molten sparks all over the grove. But it had done its task. The wizard lay dead.

Exhausted, Marcus walked back to where Sephia was now weeping beside Condor's body and he took her hand.

"It is done."