You walk down a cobbled pathway of Hells mouth, a hand on your sword that is strung from your belt. You round a corner, looking around for the leader of the Ballengers, when you run into something. You stumble backward, gripping your sword even tighter. Once you look up, you notice a boy, around your age, standing before you. “So, you’re the Vendan Soldier I’ve seen around. You have no business here, this isn’t Vendan territory,” he said, his voice crisp and cold.