Azguard slowly stood and looked behind him. There lay his former friends – all dead now. He looked down at his torn tunic and wondered what had happened to him. All of a sudden he heard a rustling in the woods and he whirled around to see an elf with a long elaborately carved walking stick. He had dark black hair, pulled loosely back from his face.
“Greetings Phoenixclaw,” the elf said.
“Phoenixclaw?” Azguard asked. The name seemed to call out to him.
“It is your true name,” the elf said. “You were dead and now you have come back.”
Azguard started at the elf, dumbfounded for a moment – yet he somehow knew that he spoke truth. How else could he still be alive? And oh boy did he feel alive. There was a strange power flowing through his body. It was a marvelous feeling. As if he’d been caged inside himself all of these years and had finally been released!

The elf regarded Phoenixclaw with a small smile on his lips. How rare indeed to run into a phoenix on one of his many journeys. When he had been studying the arcane arts at Sumati Irfan he had heard wondrous tales of these beings. They were imbued with a terrible power. The elf frowned at that thought. A terrible power. This Phoenixclaw would need to be trained in order to control and perfect his new powers.
“I am Soarric,” the elf said extending his hand.
The Phoenixclaw looked down at the proffered hand before slowly grasping it in his. “Azguard Faithstealer,” he said.
Soarric laughed. “Not anymore. You are now Azguard Phoenixclaw.” He rubbed his hands together and felt the air around the red-haired man. “You have quite the powerful aura.” He paused, thinking about what to do next. The boy needed training or he would be a menace to those around him. “Would you be averse to being taught by me?”

“Taught what?” Azguard asked, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t know what to make of this strange new elf.
“Taught about your origins, your powers – how to fight now that you’ve been reborn.”
Azguard cocked his head to the side, considering the offer. Dare he take? What did he know about this elf? He wasn’t one of Azguard’s kinsmen. While Azguard was deliberating what to do, he felt a blow fall upon his back. He fell to his knees. He looked around for Soarric who was nowhere to be seen. What was going on?
“You need training,” a voice said to the right of him, before pushing him over.
“You can show me such things,” Azguard asked warily.
Soarric steped out of the shadows and nodded. “I can train you so you will be able to find your destiny – wherever it lies.
Azguard extended his arm and the two clasped hands. “Agreed.”
“You’re training begins now,” Soarric said.

* * *

For two years Azguard Phoenixclaw trained with Soarric before going off on his own in the world. It was time he found his true calling. He heard rumors of orc attacks in the Eastern Plains and decided to head that way. Just before he left, Soarric told him to call on him if he ever needed anything. Azguard nodded, glad to have the wise elf on his side. He and his companion Jaholm decided to take separate paths to get there. They wanted to gather as many warriors as possible. It would be easier to do it separate than together.
Azguard was heading east after going through the Southern Wood. He reached the border to the plains relatively quickly. Deciding to travel all night to reach the meeting place, he continued on through a mist so thick he could not see his surroundings at all. He hoped that he was still traveling in the right direction.

Alondra stood alone at the top of the cliff, her wheat-colored hair blowing around her face. She squinted into the growing darkness trying to discern who was coming through the thick mists that veiled the land of Franco Calle. Was it a friend or foe? Or a scout for the invading army? Alondra didn’t know, but she readied her sword as the dark shadow in the white clouds began to slowly take shape in front of her.
“Who goes there?” she called. She tightened her grip on her sword when no answer was forthcoming. What should she do? At last she heard a response just as a person stepped out of the cloying mists. The man had a long golden-red mane blowing loose around his face and his eyes glowed like the embers of a dying fire.
“Never call out unless you know who it is that you’re facing,” he said, his voice a deep timbre.
“It is my job to find out if you are friend or foe. I am the guardian of the village after all.” Alondra said, blushing faintly at the warrior’s criticism.
“A person could easily lie and tell you friend when he’s obviously a foe.”
Alondra narrowed her eyes, taking an instant dislike to the warrior. “Be that as it may, it is still my job to ask . . . as it is my job to discern if the person is telling the truth.” Alondra, swiftly moved her sword in from her side to her front, the blade pointing at the tall and imposing stranger. “State your purpose,” she demanded.
The stranger raised his empty hands and said, “I do not wish to fight. I would hate to kill a woman with such a lovely face.”
Alondra snorted. The man was entirely too confident. Well, she would bring him down a peg or two. She shifted her weight and went rushing towards the red haired man. As she was about to swing, he jumped. Alondra lost her footing at her opponent’s sudden disappearance fifty feet in the air. She rolled into a ball as she began to fall down the cliff.

Azguard saw the girl falling down the cliff towards the jagged rocks below. His eyes flashed bright orange as he dove to save the girl. As she was about to go sliding down the rocky part of the slope he managed to catch her, but he couldn’t get enough speed or air to elevate them so he crashed into the sharp stones. He cradled the girl to his chest, taking the brunt of the fall. When they were about to go off the edge of the cliff he used their momentum to propel them high up into the air. He let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a hiss of pain as the girl squeezed his bruised and bleeding back.
“I’m sorry, but could you put me back on solid ground?” the girl asked.
Azguard smiled and slowly made the decent back to the earth. “Are you alright,” he asked when her feet touched the ground. The girl gave him a small smile and he was taken aback by her beauty. Her hair was shiny and silky, her lips were a pale rose, and her skin was very Nordic looking. She was practically translucent in her paleness. She went to take a step back and tripped, causing her to fall against him again. Azguard automatically wrapped his arms around the beautiful warrior.
“I guess that I am fine,” she mumbled into the front of his tunic.
Azguard chuckled and brought his thumb and forefinger under the girl’s chin to lift her face to meet his steady gaze. “Your eyes are the palest of greens,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
“And yours are the darkest green I have ever seen.” He felt the girl’s spine stiffen and she pushed against his chest. Azguard immediately released her.
“Are you friend or foe,” she repeated, reaching for her sword and coming up with nothing. Her hand searched frantically for it, but could not find it.
Azguard smiled, sadly and walked over to the spot where she had dropped her sword. He bent over and picked it up. He then gave it to her hilt first. “Neither. I am merely a traveler in these lands, seeking peace.” He bowed his head at her and turned to go.
“Wait! What is your name?” the girl asked, sheathing her sword.
“Azguard. Azguard Phoenixclaw,” he said walking towards the swirling mists. “What is yours?” he called, just before he was about to vanish into the cloying veil.
“Alondra,” the young warrior replied. “Alondra Shamira.”
“Alondra,” Azguard said, testing her name on his lips. “Well, little guardian, we shall meet again.”

Alondra watched as he was engulfed by the white mists of the Eastern Plain. He was an odd boy, but she was looking forward to seeing him again. No matter how far he went, he would always be able to find her. For Alondra never moved. It was her duty as the last of the Shamira line to guard Franco Calle.

* * *

Azguard met up with his companion Jaholm in time to hear that orcs had marched on Franco Calle and destroyed the village. Azguard was saddened. He had liked the young guardian elf very much. He and Jaholm went to the local tavern and rented some rooms there. They were to wait until the rest o their recruits joined them. They had learned that Zor’ath, a great evil half-breed, was behind all of the raids in the plains. They were going to do their best to stop him.
“You are unusually silent, my friend,” Jaholm stated over a mug of ale.
“Just thinking,” Azguard sighed. He was thinking about Alondra. She had been quite the fiery girl. He did not notice Jaholm’s mouth drop open as someone approached behind him.
“About what,” a quiet voice asked him.
Azguard straightened in his seat and whirled around. There was Alondra! “How?” he asked, glad that the young warrioress was alive.
“Not everyone from my village was destroyed. A few of us lived, but we have the scars to show for it. My people will rebuild Franco Calle and until they do, I am not needed as a guardian. I would like to join you on your quest.”
Azguard looked at Jaholm who nodded. Azguard stood up and offered Alondra the chair next to his. “Come, join us. We are waiting for the rest of the recruits to arrive. Once they are here we will plot our strategy on how to take on Zor’ath.” Azguard signaled the tavern owner and he brought a mug of hot mulled cider for their new comrade. “We wish this table next to us to remain empty,” he said, handing the tavern owner a gold coin.
“My pleasure, sir,” he said, going back to the bar.

* * *

Aine drew in a grateful breath that she had made it to the village before nightfall. She could defend herself if she had to, but she was a writer – not a warrior. Although, these days it wasn’t too safe inside the village walls anymore. Orc raids were becoming more and more frequent. No village was safe from their armies. Aine shuddered as fear tingled up her spine. So far she had been lucky, who knew how long her luck would continue. She shouldered her pack more firmly and made her way into the local tavern of Domingo Stradt.
The bar was filled with music, laughter and smoke. Aine pushed back the hood of her dark blue traveling cloak and looked for a place to sit in the crowded room. Her feet were killing her. She noticed an empty table way in the back and gratefully made her way towards it. She sat down and propped her feet up on the bench across from her – much better. She closed her eyes and a small smiled played about her lips. It was nice to be indoors and off her feet after weeks of traveling.

Aine felt a presence loom over her. She sighed and cracked open one eye. Standing over her was a man with long dark red hair. He had a few days growth of whiskers on his young-looking face. “What?” Aine asked, disconcerted by the intensity of his dark green gaze.
“This table is reserved,” he said softly, patting his hand on Aine’s table.
Aine felt a spurt of anger. She was not moving from this spot. As she was about to light into the tall warrior, another man came up and asked her to tell a story. She sighed and put a bright smile on her face. She calmly stepped as hard as she could on the foot of the man who had asked her to vacate the table.

Azguard didn’t grimace, but his foot sure smarted after the girl had stepped on it. He shook his head and returned to his seat at the table next to the one where the girl was sitting. He looked at Jaholm and Alondra, wondering when the others would show up.
“Now, for your pleasure, the scribe and storyteller Aine,” the bartender said, bowing as the girl who had stomped Azguard’s foot took the center of the room. Azguard sat entranced by her melodic voice and tales of heroes and adventures. She told of the old times and the old warriors who had stood against goblins and orcs. He wondered if someone would talk about him that way too someday down the road.
Azguard stood and clapped when the scribe was finished with her tales. The girl bowed, her long brown hair coming forward to hide her face. Azguard narrowed his eyes when the girl wound her way through the cheering crowd until she was at the table again. She looked at him and sat down. She had a big smile on her face that aggravated Azguard. They would need that table when the rest of the troop showed up, dammit!
Azguard got up and walked over to the girl, frowning. She smiled up at him and patted the seat next to her. Azguard crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I told you this table was taken.”
“Yes, by me, now sit down,” the girl demanded.
Azguard sat down across from her and leaned towards her on his elbows. “This table is for the rest of my group, once they get here, you’ll have to leave.”
“Not so fast,” the girl said, placing her palm on his forearm. “The bartender informs me that you’re going orc hunting.”

Azguard frowned over at the barkeep, so much for being discreet. They did not want people to set their hopes too high, after all they were fighting Zor’ath, one of the most dangerous half-breeds. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said.
“Of course it is,” she said. “I wish to accompany you and your men.”
“What?” Azguard asked, totally befuddled.
“I mean, I want to be the official scribe of your group.”
“Out of the question!” Azguard thundered. “I need warriors not writers.”
“Oh but I won’t get in the way,” she said, her face earnest and eager.
“Why not, Azguard?” Alondra said, coming up beside him, followed by Jaholm. “As long as the girl stays out of our way and out of the fray, it should be fine. Besides if we have a scribe to spin stories, we might get even more members.”
Azguard crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, deep in thought. Alondra was right. They would need as many people as they could get. “Alright, but first sign of trouble or interfering and your gone – got that?”
“Yes,” the girl replied. “By the way, my name is Aine,” she said, extending her pale hand towards him.
“Aine – what?”
“Just Aine,” she said with a mysterious smile.
Azguard just shrugged, he would find out later, he was sure. “Azguard Phoenixclaw. This young warrior is Alondra Shamira and this brawny lad is Jaholm Siegebringer.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” the young girl said distractedly.
When Azguard looked at her she had a quill and parchment out. He laughed, the girl sure moved fast. Now all they needed was for all of their recruits to arrive and they could start their journey to defeat Zor’ath and his minions – after they called on Soarric for help in training all of the new fledglings