---Year 200 PDW---

As Valeif’s training turned to the physical, he was quick to learn. Between his physical might and natural abilities, he was a force to be reckoned with, even at such a young age. Still an adolescent, he had yet to fully realize his natural born abilities, but still capable of fending off most monsters that threatened the village. Bandits were harder to deter, but most would give the village a wide berth, not wanting to deal with such a risk with only a small reward should they succeed.
For Valeif, this would be his typical experience as he grew, doing daily patrols of the desert to flush out potential threats to the village. On one such outing however, he’d be met with a caravan, one offering him food and affection for him to guide them back to their camp. Doing so, he’d be drawn into a trap, bound tight and muzzled while the once disguised bandits unveiled themselves.
With Valeif trapped, the bandits had little trouble raiding the village. Unlike the gangs before, these bandits aimed to take everything. Everything from the grandest treasures to the lowly baubles would be taken, stole from the villagers before loading them into carts. By the time the bandits were done, the village was destroyed, no house left to hide in, and no stone left unturned. They would leave nothing for others to find, going so far as to destroy each building once it was cleared.

By the time Valeif was able to free himself, the bandits would be long gone, the carts little more than dots on the horizon, well beyond the barioth’s boundaries. Unable to follow the bandits, he would return to the village where he’d find the smoldering remains of the place he once called home.

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art by  Nyne