You were born the bastard son of a tavern wench who was knocked up by a passing stranger one night. The moment she could, your mother abandoned you to...live a life of torment at the tavern keeper's hands. Living off scraps and serving as a source of relief by taking beatings, you've only gotten by on endurance and cunning to avoid more beat downs. This was your existence...... WAS being the keyword.Marching in during the dead of night, the Tyrant King's army sacked the village. Creatures from. Mindful of the danger of wandering off alone, she told Jeff what she planned to do and started looking around close to the camp.She did find something that looked like it had promise as a tuber. She only had enough for a taste test, so there was no hope of making a real stew with what she had for tonight. She also breathed a sigh of relief when she found something that looked like it would serve for toilet paper. She had just turned back to camp when Jeff screamed at her, "LOOK OUT! OVERHEAD! A. More

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