You, a Satyr, was picking some berries and gathering food in preparation for the cold weather. You suddenly heard a gunshot. Then many more.

As you quickly run away from the echoing bangs and booms, you trip and fall, twisting your ankle as you land on the dry leaves with a thud, leaving you all scratched up. You sit there to catch your breath, before hearing some cracking sticks in the distance.

“What’s going on ‘ere?” a rough voice asks, revealing a tall soldier standing above you