"I hate this bloody rain!" announced the guard to his brethren as he climbed into the hut. "Magnol, it's your turn out there, get moving!" With exaggerated slowness one of the Magmars sitting around the central hearth got up, donned his tarred weather gear and vanished into the darkness beyond the door. The guard who had just announced his dislike of the weather here in the borderlands dropped his soaking wet cloak onto a stand and sat down in Magnol's place. "Ghastly weather, I tell you. Even the enemy will stay indoors tonight." This statement was met with nods of agreement and approval by the four other soldiers warming themselves at the fire. "So, is there any food left?" asked the first guard and was handed a loaf of bread and a plate of steaming hot soup by the one sitting next to him. "Thanks, Dragnor." The one addressed in this manner made himself comfortable again and picked up the tale he had been telling earlier. The two fresh recruits that he had been talking to, who were sitting across from him beyond the flames, already had a haunted look on their faces. Read more