War's fierce winds had risen once more; the day of bloodshed had come

"The gnolls are here! Sound the alarm!"

A furious shout rang out from the bastion watchtower at Fort Valor. A shrill warning bell began to clang, its clear, piercing notes spreading across the entire fortress in an instant. The more than four thousand soldiers stationed there immediately began to muster.

It was the hour when the various churches held their evening prayers. No one would be finishing their prayers today, but neither the gods nor their followers considered that worth worrying about. The ascetics of the Winter Wolf Church's Fangs of Winter were the quickest to act, rushing up to the watchtowers and walls they had been assigned to guard.

Avalon's followers came right behind them.

Squads of Witch Hunters began saddling their warhorses, while the druids distributed all sorts of oak seeds for battle.

The winged cavalry at Fort Valor also began preparing for the trample charge they might soon have to make. Valand would lead them out of the fortress to fight. At the very least, they couldn't let the gnolls besiege them so easily. They had to take the initiative.

Unfortunately, the winged cavalry never got the chance to serve as the vanguard they had hoped to be. Before everyone had finished preparing for battle, Vam's Berserkers had already charged out of Fort Valor in a disorderly mob, as if they were off to market.

The rogue charge so infuriated the fortress's current commander, Count Andemar of the Blood Eagle Clan, that Lady Femis—whom players privately called "Little Potato"—was jumping up and down, cursing them out.

But if you thought Vam's followers would obey orders, you were seriously mistaken.

The berserkers and shieldmaidens summoned from Ice Bay by Vam's temple longed for a bloody fight to the death. Their time stationed at Fort Valor had nearly driven