“Once upon a time” is a silly way to start a story. For there is only one time. That time is the present, and there is no doubt about it. You can talk about the past and future only to entertain the minds of those living in the present. That's my opinion anyway. My name is Axel Grey, and I know a lot about the topic of storytelling. I've heard tales of adventure and glory from the bards of the west, and stories of beautiful landscapes from the south, cautionary tales from the east and amazing, freezing tales from the north. Too bad I can't experience any of these adventures myself however, having been confined to the small village that is my home town.

“Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring”

“Whelp, that's my alarm.” I announce to no one, slapping my knees to demonstrate that I am leaving. That alarm goes off every Wednesday when it's near time for something important. I got the alarm enchanted stone from Jingles and Bells, the only magic store  in our town. Shame that it only sells minor enchantment scrolls and bell rocks. After heading out the door of my cottage I head down the winding dirt roads that seem to lead everywhere. The scenery starts to slowly change as I make my way down the path. Houses start to become few and far between, and instead of rolling hills and yellow green plains I begin to see larger and larger trees pop up, the sun beginning to fade as it is covered with large oaks, of which look as if constantly in the middle of fall no matter the season. Jackalopes hide behind shrubbery from Stakers, large ravens that carry large prey to their nests at the crowns of mountains. I run across the leaf covered path as sunbeams dance along the flora and my locket bounces on my chest.

Soon I begin to wonder if i'm following the right path, if i took a wrong turn somewhere along the road, for i did not know the path to where i'm heading, only been told to follow the path. After a minute or two of running, a cottage concealed by ferns and fungi begins to distinguish itself on the horizon. The path stops there. The cottage, covered in moss and ivy and the sort, almost breathed with the life it seemed to lack from a glance. As I approach the door to the cabin the path fades, as it was never there in the first place. Now, being lost, it appears as if there is nothing I can do but open the cottage door. So I slowly turn the bronze knob, I realize that the door is locked. I place my ear to the door and hear sound from the inside. Muffled talking, footsteps, and laughing. I look up and spy a door knocker, bronze like the doorknob. I raise it and knock. The sounds from the door slow to a stop and I hear only footsteps coming to the door. Getting louder. And louder. And louder. And the spruce door creaks open. And standing in the doorway is a man, around 18 years old, I'm not quite sure, with dusty blonde hair and unnatural emerald green eyes, or eye. You see, the man standing before me isn't really a man. Only what appears to be the left side of his body is a man’s body. The right half, however, is a purple mist in the shape of what resembles a man, with a lavender light coming out of where his right eye would be.

“Well hello.” He greets, rather calmly.

“Uh-u-uh what are you?” I stutter to ask.

“That's a rather rude way to greet someone isn't it?” He questions. 

“Hey! Oliver! Who's at the door?” asks another man, behind ‘Oliver’. This second man approaches the door, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his brown hair covered by a clearly well-worn gray flat cap.

“A student.” answers Oliver, glancing behind him to remain a sort of eye contact with whom he is talking to. I remember that I am here to learn how to use a rapier or something so I can leave the town I live in and not die within five days of leaving.

“Yep-o. That is exactly why I'm here. Haha.” I try to add on. Seemingly instantly I am standing outside, rapier in my hand, trying to disarm Oliver, who is teaching me how to do so. To prevent the chance of injury both our rapiers have bottle corks on the points so we don't injure each other, yet I am still getting beat up. Everytime i fall down or try to give up, Oliver tells me to keep trying. After a few long hours, I begin to catch a whiff of smoke, as if something is burning. Oliver rushes inside the house.

“You cookin’ anything, Katt?” Oliver questions the man in the flat cap.

“No siree” Answers Katt. “Smells like it's coming from the town that your student is from.”

Well that's just great. The smoke is likely coming from my town, and considering its reaching all the way over here, the fire must be gigantic and have been burning for a good while.

Oliver uncorks his rapier and I do as well. He runs off and gestures to me and Katt to follow. Katt grabs a frying pan and runs off, with me following.

Soon we arrive in my village, and it is very much on fire. But it was clear it was no accident. On top of horses surrounding the village are some pillagers, outlaws who rob, burn, and capture villages for money, with large leather sacks and carts of people, most corpses, but some very much alive but too injured to move citizens! This has got to be the most exciting thing that has happened in ages.