Often times one would read of the wonders of Concordia in the countless books and in the journals of has-been adventurers and tired veterans. Pages and pages are dedicated to describing its beauty, its rich abundance of life, and all the wondrous romances that occur under its canopy. However, one finds that these are only the tales that tortured souls and hopeful ignorants wish to spread in an attempt to hide the world from what truly lies within those woods.

The harsh truth exists beyond the beaten paths and the industrious lumbertown of Underwood. Passed the shady hills and the towering oaks; through the dense overgrowth and untamed flowers: there lies an ever-changing forest so unpredictable and powerful that only those seeking true freedom from the rules and restrictions of the world and those who challenge them survive. Horrible spiders and uncontrollable horrors lurk behind the barks and within every shadow. The graves of thousands rest under the soft soil – a reminder of the wars and evil that could erupt at any moment. Here these hidden dangers of the true Concordia were only known by a few and their brothers.

The King of Thieves could see his home had not changed.

His return to Concordia had yet to been fully realized. While returning to his roots and settling into the old grounds, the bandit royalty had heard the cries of death and the echoes of war nearby. Feeling a sense of ownership of these lands despite his long disappearance, he rushed towards the noise. He mostly expected a lost traveler's ravaged corpse to greet him. He was not fully prepared to stumble into the clearing and see before him a dead drow nearly torn in two from either a sloppy broadsword strike or a powerful claw. He noticed next that the deceased still carried with him a small set of knives and a bloodied katana. Naturally the king's greedy grin returned as thoughts turned to pillaging.

*SNAP*

Was the attacker still nearby? Silently the thief lunged for the shadows, his dark cloak hugged tightly as he hid from behind the largest of the nearby trees. His fingers slid to his sides and he thumbed the hilt of his daggers as he watched for whatever approached the clearing.

The drow's blood would not be the last to drop here.