But this year it had gone horribly, despicably wrong. It had not seemed over much at first. A Message from Prince Jawarhdeen that his entourage would be unexpectedly late was the first hint all was not as it should have been. While it was regrettable that the leader greatest of the Human settlements in the area would be late it was not enough to put a damper on the feeling of expectation and celebration.

Then on the eve when most of the remaining two villages would send out their wains of goods and tradespeople. A rumour came to your ears that the Mercenaries that operated out of the old Manor House some five miles from the Festival glade had been slain by parties unknown. The sudden thought that a stronghold of such hard bittern warriors could be so overrun caused many to question performing the festival at all this year. Especially if the Prince and his honour guard were going to be late in attendance!

Fears were somewhat allayed when two riders bearing the colours of the free warriors of the Mercenary company rode into town and scotched the rumour of their sudden demise. No, instead they told a different tale that their chapter house had merely undertaken a long term and exclusive contract and would not have soldiers to spare for guarding the festival this year. Unless of course the worthies of the town knew of a few adventurous lads & lasses that might want to join the freebooters merry band of cutthroats. If a village sent any “recruits” they could as a courtesy probably spare a few men to watch the festival until the Prince arrive at least.