Kelix turned over fitfully in his sleep. He was dreaming about being fifteen again. More a nightmare than a dream. Ten years ago, he was so skilled that a local clan had given him a last name. Last names got you a lot in Dunthmoor, a city named after some forgotten, snooty clan that had been overthrown centuries ago. Nevertheless, the 5 years it took to go from a notable 10 year old to a one armed delinquent felt long to Kel (as the locals called him). His mind drifted back to the day things went awry. He distinctly recalled the last motion he performed with his right hand. His mission was simple: find the head of the nearby goblins and report back with it's location. A normal coming of age test for adolescents did to help quell the disgustingly fast rate that goblin hills seemed to crop up every year. Just sneak around a bit and come back.
