Hours later your feet have touched the ground of Earth---yet you feel
disappointed. The legends spoke of fertile fields, green trees, and blue
skies but all you see is a frosty desert. Several parched trees, all black
and dead, try to reach the sky, but fail. It looks like Noldarur, but even
there had been signs of life. Where are the ruins of men and where are the
Drekh'Nar? You ram your sword into the ground, and the Earth shivers.

"Oh, they're here." You hear the voice of Ares. "I'm up here" he says. "In
the crippled crown of one of these trees. So, you wonder why it all looks
dead?" Ares laughs. "Did you really think the Drekh'Nar had settled mankind
in the heart of their kingdom? No." Again he laughs, in a strange mixture of
sadness and malicious joy, while the anger and hatred on your face grow lar-
ger with every minute.

"The Drekh'Nar live far away, in the south. If you really want to take re-
venge, you have to follow their traces, become a wanderer, alone, for many
years." You breathe out slowly. Is this really what you want? No. But are
there any other options left? You've chosen to be an outcast, for the good
of mankind. You can't return to them. You square your shoulders.

"I will" you say, grasping your sword and turning southwards. "I will!"
