The rain pounds as you trudge through the dirty streets of the city. Water rushes down the cobblestones, while the the only light comes from the occasional candlelit window or flash of lightning. The rain runs through your clothes as your boots slosh through the mud and puddles. Suddenly, in a flash of light, you think you can see a shadow moving in a nearby alleyway. Then, a bloodcurdling scream.

You return home after a long day of errands to find the house not as you left it. The cupboards are opened rapidly and haphazardly, while their contents are spilled all across the ground. There is a pair of muddy bootprints near the entrance of the home, and you can just barely hear the sound of movement upstairs. You were not expecting anyone, and even if you were you could scarcely expect this.

The battle rages around you, mailed knights matching blades with bandits wearing scattered pieces of armor. There is a cacophony of clashing steel and the screams of the wounded and dying. To your left a knight slashes at a bandit with his broadsword, the blood spraying towards you. On your right another blocks a mighty blow with a sickening crunch. What matters most is what lies in front of you though, a hulking brute readying to swing a large hammer.