Zazzles sat comfortably on a large rock, munching on an apple, as he watched the forest around him. He noticed the breeze moving through the great oaks of the forest of Misty-mire. He heard their slight creaks as they responded to its touch. He watched the ants scurrying around on the forest floor. He admired their tenacity.

They seemed to always have a sense of purpose, determined to forage for food or search for hidden threats. Zazzles absentmindedly flicked an inquisitive ant off his leg as he picked himself up and stretched. His boyish muscles bunched under his tunic as he shifted his adventurers pack to his shoulder. He took one last look around and sighed contently. This was home. The Misty-mire forest had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember.

He flicked his apple core towards a nearby bush and shouldered his short-bow. Today was his 16th birthday. In accordance to his tribes customs, he was to rise early in the morning and travel north through the forest until he came to Shatul-ar. It was here, like many before him that young forest gnomes learned about their rich history as monks and harnessing the powers of ki. He was to expect rigorous training, meditation and contemplation. These were the only things his parents would tell him of his venture before bidding him a teary farewell.

Zazzles thought about this as he strode north through the forest. His keen eyes pierced the gloom of the forest, the overhanging canopy of the forest was slowly thickening and starting to block out the waning sunlight. He'd never been this deep into the forest and his fear of imagined goblins and brigands was being outweighed by his fear of the approaching darkness.

He kicked a stone in frustration. Why was he always so scared? It was one of the many questions he'd hoped to have answered upon his arrival at Shatul-ar. The stabs of fear he often felt frustrated him to no end.

Zazzles paused. He'd sensed something, a slight prick on the back of his neck indicated something wasn't quite right. He'd learnt to listen to that prick, it'd been immensely useful on more then one occasion. What it was and why it happened? He had no idea. Another question he'd have answered upon his arrival to Shatul-ar.

He glanced around, taking in his surroundings and cast out his senses as he'd been taught to do. His father had taught him the importance of investigation checks. He remembered his fathers exact words upon the subject as he'd tried it for the first time.

…... " It's a simple process Zazz," he'd say.

"Close your eyes and cast out your senses, feel the danger rather then see it.."

"Good, that's it!"

"Now. I want you to imprint the image of a dice in your head."

" Can you see it?"

"That's it!"

"Now go ahead and imagine rolling that dice. It comes down to luck, really. But you get the knack of it after a bit. The higher the roll the more likely we sense our danger."

Zazzles imagined rolling the dice in his head, as the dice landed on 18, he felt an epiphany.

It was quite... Too quite? Misty-mire was a bustling forest, the happy chirp of birds, rustling of squirrels, badgers, rabbits or chipmunks were all part of his daily sightings or hearings. He could hear none of that, something had upset the balance of the forest. He pushed his senses further to the north and felt rather then saw the trees opening up to reveal a clearing of sorts.

His vision faded and Zazzles took a deep breath and steeled himself. His heart thumped loudly and he pondered what to do. The fear came rising up his throat as his emotions churned. He wanted to be home, he wanted to be warm by the fire with his family.

He carefully arranged his thoughts and came to a decision. The forest was darkening now, light was growing sparser by the minute and he didn't have a lot of time before he would have to light his torch up.

He had to see what was in that clearing! He quickly drew his short-bow and notched an arrow, crouching slightly he crept forward to the break in the trees. He braced himself and stepped out from behind the tree and into the clearing.

Time seemed to slow.

…...

The rain washed away his tears as they kept falling. There was no way he had seen what he thought...? It was simply not possible. He'd always thought of the woods as a wondrous place, a green world of high adventure. He felt ashamed as he remembered what he'd done. He'd abandoned his journey without the slightest hesitation. He had no idea where he was, he lifted his face to the sky and felt the rain pound his face. Why was he like this? He turned slightly and trudged through the mud, he trudged like that for hours... minutes?... days? Who could tell. All he remembered was putting one foot in front of the other. The rain didn't let up and continued to soak him, pounding him relentlessly. He finally stumbled, exhausted. He hit the mud.. hard... and his world seemed to spin and fade. The last thing he remembered were the eyes...Unblinking, intense and a deep red. They seemed to usher him into the coming darkness.

He welcomed in the blackness as it took him.

…...

A drop of rain in his eye woke him hours later. He groaned loudly as he sat up. He was a mess, dried blood and mud caked his legs and his arms. His bow had snapped, supposedly on one of his many falls. He felt a tender bump on his forehead and numerous scratches and scrapes across his chest and thighs.

Surprisingly, he still had his quarterstaff with him. Although he had no memory of hanging onto it last night. He sat up and took his stock of his surroundings. The rain had eased and was spitting ever so slightly. He watched a flash of lightning in the distance, an ominous memory of just part of his terrible night. What had happened!? He could barely remember, his brain felt sluggish and slow to respond as he tried to will up the memories that had sparked his mad flight...

The whinny of a horse and the faint sounds of a wagon interrupted his thoughts. He rolled over and using his staff as support, scrambled to his feet. Zazzles swayed uncertainly for a second, his body protesting loudly at the sudden movement. A quick look around showed him on the side of a muddy path, farmland stretched to either side of him. Cupping his hand to his eyes he peered down the track towards the approaching stranger. The stranger lifted his hand in a greeting as he spied the gnome boy.

Zazzles watched him approach, his quarterstaff held in a defensive position. He quickly closed his eyes and summoned up the image of a dice. A quick roll and he watched it land for a 15. In response, his senses reached out for an insight check upon the stranger. Much to his relief, he discovered no malicious intent, instead discovering a sun-burnt old farmer with a wagon full of hay.

The horse snorted as the farmer gently pulled on the reins, slowing the wagon to a stop by Zazzles.

"Aho there" the farmer exclaimed "Mornin laddie, ya look like ya've seen the devil 'imself."

Zazzles replied, "Just a fall in the rain and mud I'm afraid, could you tell me where I am by chance?"

"Whyy your in the farmlands, boy! About a half-days ride southeast from the Mistymire Forest."

Zazzles groaned to himself, that far from the forest? He must have run for miles in his terror.

The farmer watched him with curiosity.

"Methinks u could be using a hot meal and a bath, young gnome. There's a village just a mile from here, would you like a ride to the alehouse?"

Zazzles considered.

He had to get back to the forest and warn his tribe! Their fate was most certainly in his hands. And yet... a part of him never wanted to step foot in that forest again. He was terrified of what he'd witnessed. The thoughts of last night started to rise up unwillingly and he shoved the away. He'd consider what he'd do at the alehouse. A meal and a bath would serve him well.

"I'd be grateful for a ride," Zazzles said, taking a handful of silver coins out of his pack. "This is for your trouble."

The farmer smiled warmly as he pocketed the silver, "No trouble at all, but I'm mighty grateful to 'ya. Now jump on ha'board"

The cart rolled along peacefully. The farmer humming a cheery ditty to himself and sucking on a dandelion stalk seemed content to keep to himself and allowed Zazzles some time to reflect on his situation.

His thoughts turned to his tribe. There was no way he could sneak back to them without alerting.. Zazzles shuddered.. best not to think about it. He considered his options, to come through the southern forests was no option. He could handle the spiders, perhaps. The small ones listened to him, but he could have no affect on the larger ones, and they were always hungry... Not to mention the goblins, owlbears, kobolds and anything else he might stumble upon. The southern forests were mostly shrouded in mystery, not many people walked out of there.. And the ones that did... They were never the same.

He'd come out of the forest to the east, he knew that much. He had no intention of stepping foot back in that area. That left the north and west. The western forests were ruled by the Yuan-Ti. … A serpent-like tribe that preyed on any passerby to be a sacrifice for their mystical temples. And to the north, well he had no idea. None of his tribe had any stories of any further north then Shatul-ar.

Zazzles slowly blew some air out of his cheeks, it was pointless. What, he needed was skills he hadn't learnt yet, and strong companions. "Well the alehouse is as good place to start as any" he mused to himself.

The cart jolted to a stop, kicking Zazzles out of his thoughts. The farmer turning to him with a with a sparkle in his eye.

"Well 'ere ya lad, best to go on in and get cleaned up and a good pint into 'ya"

Zazzles climbed out of the cart carefully, his body protesting his every movement

Zazzles thanked the man, tossing another silver up to him.

With a tip of the hat the farmer clicked his horse forward and the young forest gnome turned to the alehouse.

He shouldered his pack and with a firm grip on his staff, walked up the front porch and through the doors...