After two months of traveling your humble servant is back to continue the adventures of Charles de Villeroi. Last time you had, while still wounded, pushed back an attack from goat men and sorcerers consorting with the devil against your keep while your men investigated about an attack on your village of Otherone. Unfortunately the vile bard Beau and a ghibelline named Schamann who carried the spirit of Conradin von Hohenstaufen fled from your dungeons in the confusion of the attack you sent villagers to catch them. And after so much events the sweet lady Takable was spending the evening with you.

But let us begin, as per tradition, by a small prologue about events that take place in other parts of the strange world that you call India.

PROLOGUE :

In the darkest tunnels of the terrible fortress that we already visited one can see a quite pitiful group. They lived not in great caves warmed by lava or ancient halls built by duergar, no, they lived in the smallest and most disagreeable place that there was, a deep cave near a cliff, one of the roads to the Underworld. It was prone to catastrophes and sometimes entire families fell to the cliff during their sleep, it was awful but it was the only place where they were allowed to stay. Looking at the poor figures around a makeshift fire trying to warm themselves against the carven the leader of the group put tighter his rat's hide cape around himself and sighted. Every day since his birth had been as pitiful and if he was not throwing himself into the cliff it was purely by faith and remembrance, remembrance of a glorious past.

One of the goblin children who was sitting here near the fire with some adults asked him in a pleading tone.

-War chief Shitbag, war chief Shitbag please tell us a story.

Shitbag grimaced, he disliked this term, war chief, goblins never had war chiefs, they were lead by shamans who invoked visions of their ancestors and ruled them by this means, the simple fact that there was need of a war chief was a great humiliation for the Snaga tribe. He looked at the face of the goblin child with his meagre body, his skin of a colour between the green, the brown and the grey that was characteristic of the Snagas and his huge yellow cat like eyes and pointy teeth. The small goblin was soon joined by tens of others goblin kids. Shitbag liked kids, not in the sense that they were good when they were well cooked, eating the kids in time of famine always made him sad which was rare for a backstabbing goblin, no the old goblin liked them because they were naive, innocent and still full of hope that they would not be mistreated for all their life. Sighting he agreed and began to tell.

-Do you want a tale about the Master ?

-Yes, yes tell us a tale about the Master !