A forest stood to the left, a castle to the right. The path was vast, covered in small poor farming families. A time with no medicine, a time with no modern tools. Simply royals, rags, mercenaries, and war.

A man, named Creed, stepped out of his shack. He wore dirty clothes, and had long black greasy hair. His blue eyes scanned the land in front of him, all hoed and seeded.

"Gah... Damned rain... Not a single drop..." He swore.