They tasted defeat. Enemies are getting stronger. The caravan needs to move.
Monty saw defeat at the hands of the devils and death has reached the elven lands faster than anybody had expected. Hidden powers surge, mighty allies and enemies appear in the distance, and the nomad can do nothing but move on in the hope the caravan lives another day.
The elven lands have been left behind in the hope of greener plains and the goblin cities are around the corner. The others promise riches from rags, but there has to be more hidden underneath the sharp sun. A [Cleric] may never rest, after all.
Power has been attained. The world is breaking. A promise must be held.
The times have changed, and the winds are pushing against the caravan. Life is becoming tougher, but the people stay strong, lest they would fall like so many others.
Monty is brought to face many powerful people, but so few give him answers. A powerful enemy nears, a target is on the backs of the humans, and a daunting task is ahead of him. Some ask him to run, to live a life of peace, but he refuses.
The bringer of balance does not break his promise.
Monty was dead until he wasn't.
His body was no longer his own, having been shoved into a dying priest in the heart of a totally different world of magic and death. The priest had been protecting a caravan-a duty Monty now inherited-and he was faced with bandits and worse, all while keeping up the façade of his stolen identity. Luckily, the priest had been capable of miraculous [Light] magic, and now so was Monty. He could heal . . . and he could kill.
And he would, without hesitation.
He'd rather not die again.
