As the journey continues: Rose, Freya, Delgan, and now flirtatious Malikai make their way to the kingdom of Lynxfell to report their mission and to help the unconscious Sylvie wake up. Just when they thought their mission was over, the king throws another little something into mix. "Now, on to more important matters. Daniel, your arrival back at the kingdom has once again been well-timed. The kingdom of Lynxfell needs you, Rochelle, and your new friend Francesca here, to head to a nearby village" The king sighs, "although I am the magnificent ruler that I am, there seems to be an uprising of a civil war between the east and northeast villages. I'm sure its a simple task and shouldn't take you long. If I wasn't so busy here, I'd go address the matter myself, but no matter. My informant has updated me on your comrade's teamwork, and that's just what I need to solve this matter quickly." The king demanded. "Forgive me my king, but you keep saying your informer. who is this you speak of," Rose questioned. Right on cue, the side door to the throne room swung open. "You? You've got to be shitting me" Rose groans.

Rose and Delgan are hunters working for the kingdom of Lynxfell. The king has assigned them to kill an ancient Lich who has cursed the lands by raising hordes of undead. Along the way, they come across undead, merchants, Bandit chefs, and more and more problems... Freya was one of those problems... 'What they saw was unexpected. Rose could have sworn that what stood before her was just a lost young girl. But as she stood hovering over her recent kill, Rose couldn't be so naive. The woman breathed in deeply as she tried to compose herself. Rose tried to picture what could have happened just a moment ago. The room was covered in vines and the man that sat on the tall throne, the bandit leader Rose deduced, laid dead. He was covered in blood, but it wasn't like Rose had ever seen before. His blood was dark purple, streams of it flowed down deep cuts all over his arms and face, but that wouldn't even be the worst of it. What was once his throat was now shreds of bloody tissue and muscle. Rose would wonder how the head was still intact if it wasn't for the clear bone sticking out holding it in place. It was a gory sight. His skin had shriveled and turned pale. The only hint of color left was the tint of bright green that oozed out the dark cuts. 'Poisoned'. Rose thought to herself. No, this was no lost little girl...