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The Tale of Ralt

Smoke. Screams. The taste of mud. A hazy view. You try to think. You try to remember. What happened? Who is screaming? Why does your head feel like a basket of wool? You notice there is liquid dripping down the side of your face. You don't know if it's mud or blood, but you are afraid to find out. As you stand up and breathe more calmly, you begin to see what is going on. Houses are on fire. The wood and the wet reed give off huge amounts of smoke. Many of your neighbours are lying dead on the ground. Men, women and children who are still alive are crying, screaming, and frantically searching for their loved ones or taking care of the wounded. 

Your remember, the village was attacked. Men on horseback rained flaming arrows down on your village, and swept trough it like a wave. You were running errands around town when it happened. And it happened fast. Like they appeared out of thin air. Armed only with a bag of oats, you stood no chance. Before you could even grab a shield somewhere you were smacked unconscious by. . . . Something. You're probably lucky to be alive. 


You try to think. You don't know where your father and siblings are. You imagine your father was at the chiefs hall when it started, and he would have sallied out. Your brother was maybe with him. Where your sister is, nobody ever knows. She may well have escaped the attackers, but it is no secret that raiders of any tribe or nation value young, female captives the most, if only for a short time. Your friends are most likely scattered throughout the village, and many of them may lie dead. 

You have to choose, what will you do?

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