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Enveloped in darkness, a dark silhouette of a female figure, too tall for human height, slowly but somehow elegantly and gracefully prowled the perimeter of a wide room with stone walls and ceiling. Small grated window slits let in only a tiny bit of moonlight, which instantly dissipated each time the mysterious guest approached.
Krailos cowered in the corner farthest from the entrance, knees tucked in, frantically trying to hide the rapid breathing of the fear breaking out from within, freezing every particle of his body. An intermittent heartbeat echoed loudly and with some delay in his ears; the pale lips of the young guard trembled noticeably, and the deathly cold fingers of his right hand clenched uncontrollably, as if still trying to feel for the hilt of the blade he had cast aside in another part of the tower.
After making several light laps around the room, the ghostly silhouette emitted a quiet, whistle-like hiss, vaguely resembling a whisper, after which it headed confidently toward the stunned warrior. With every meter, the creature's movements became more blurred, losing their former fluidity and turning into short, sharp jerks. And Krailos just sat there, unable to tear his gaze away from the unholy figure, paralyzed by external and internal horror.
Unable to contain himself, the warrior involuntarily shuddered and closed his eyes. Opening his eyelids, he found the ghost's face a few centimeters from his own. He realized that the mysterious whisper had been coming from the creature's motionless lips all this time. The ghost's facial features somewhat resembled human ones, but were too symmetrical, proportionally correct and refined, and the delicate white skin seemed to be covered by a film of thin, transparent-dark matter. The creature's pupils were absolutely empty, and in their depths, Krailos saw his own reflection with astonishment. At that same moment, the room was shaken by a distorted wail of despair, which then grew into a dull rasp. Reaching for his shield, the warrior frantically swung it before him. An unseen force immediately loosened its grip and threw him against the far wall. Trying to get up, he felt a terrible pain in his chest rising to his throat, and with his last breath, he lunged toward the door.
With a sudden movement, Krailos jumped up from behind the tavern table, overturning it and slamming his head with all his might into the low wooden ceiling of the establishment. The initial shrill scream of despair changed halfway through into dull swearing.
-You've really gone downhill. -the bartender shook his head despondently. -At this rate, you'll scare away all my customers.
-Sorry, these damned nightmares just won't leave me alone.
-Where would they even come from! Or is this from your old service?
-I asked you to keep quiet about that. -rubbing the back of his bruised head, the mercenary hissed at his acquaintance, stepping closer.
-Come on now, almost ten years have passed, who cares!
-I just don't want to drag myself into unnecessary trouble one more time. Caution never hurts. -picking up an overturned bottle of liquor from the floor, Krailos took several greedy gulps from the neck. -There, that's better. -exhaling with pleasure, he added. -What's the word on work, heard anything?
-Not much, buddy. -mumbled the bartender, briskly wiping glasses. -Although they say you can find a decent side job in Tsondokh Sizebe right now.
-The one in the north? -the mercenary frowned. -Though that's closer than anywhere near the wastes.
-Well, I'm not a travel agency here, decide for yourself. -the employee commented on his answer.
-Sigh, I hope they at least pay well; it would be a waste to trek all that way for nothing.

***

ten years ago
-Well then, private, welcome to our humble, so to speak, squad! -the elderly guard coughed hoarsely, pulled an elegant case with a smoking pipe from the deep pockets of his greatcoat, carefully packed it with tobacco, and looked for a matchbox.
-Glad to serve the republic, sir! -the recruit, chilled to the bone, snapped politely. Shuddering noticeably, he pretended to gaze into the endless expanses of the eastern wastes.
-Eh, you'll get used to the weather during your service! -the senior began to smoke. -And what about you, not a smoker?
-Sorry, I don't smoke. -Krailos explained. -And I don't drink. -he added, answering the next question in advance.
-Are you sick or something? -the guard didn't understand.
-No, sir. -the boy felt slightly offended. -I have firmly decided to lead a healthy lifestyle so that I can serve my fatherland as effectively as possible.
-Ef-fec-tively? Ugh. -the old man shook his head. -Well, that's the right thing to do. Drinking and smoking are nothing but evil! By the way, you, run over to the guys in the tower on the lower levels; they should have some booze left from the morning.
-B-but... consumption during service time... -the young warrior was embarrassed.
-Orders are not discussed, private! -the senior barked at him. -They recruit these academy graduates, I tell you. -he grumbled as his subordinate rushed off to carry out the errand. -Well, nothing, once he sits in these bleak places himself in constant fear of damned ghosts or whatever other shit, he'll realize the essence of it in a heartbeat. -finishing his monologue, the guard glanced briefly at the deserted horizon. For a moment, it seemed to him that a light shadow of a ghostly figure flickered somewhere behind the stone wall of the garrison. -I've grown old; I'm seeing all sorts of devilry now. -he shook his head tiredly. -Hope the kid brings something to warm up with quickly. God forbid those bastards drank it all without me!

***

The local mentalist, who boasted loudest about his unique skills in tracking and destroying own unholy creatures, became the very first victim of the entity trying to break out beyond the cursed wastes. And although after a few days it was tracked and "laid to rest" by units of sorcerers sent for backup, the damage dealt to the small border garrison was already irreparable. Having sensed something wrong since early morning, Krailos rushed around until late with various important errands for senior officers, until the latter finally ran out of alcohol, and a game of cards had to be forcibly interrupted because the players departed for the world of dreams right at the gaming table. The subsequent night can be described as nothing less than a true waking nightmare.
-Grr, who are you, beauty? -the old guard mumbled through his drowsiness, glancing indifferently at the motionless silent interlocutor surrounded by a shroud of darkness. Then the warrior's eye sockets slowly widened; he tried to say something, but his moving lips made no sound, and his hands clutched his heart frantically. After a few seconds, the ghost released the legionnaire's limp body from its deadly grip and smoothly glided toward the next victim.
The few who had not scattered and were able to stand on their feet tried to offer an uncertain resistance to the opponent, but without the support of a mental sorcerer, they had no chance. Krailos stood in the front ranks with a few survivors; his knees trembled, and only the motifs of the republican anthem sounded in his head. "Do not retreat!" -someone's trembling shout was heard. "Fight to the end! For the republic! For Senea!" Then the ghost, frozen for a couple of seconds before the group of guards, rushed forward with a quiet, almost soundless shriek.
Turning sharply on the spot, Krailos started running, dropping his weapon. "Damned coward!" -he heard muffled curses, soon replaced by distorted screams. The hollow thuds of the guard's boots echoed through the emptied fortress. Having crossed several long corridors, he didn't even notice when he reached a small stone tower. Climbing the narrow stairs with his last strength, he suddenly felt the full weight of his armor and shield and collapsed almost flat on the floor. The warrior crawled to the wall farthest from the entrance of the tower room and held his breath in anticipation of the inevitable.

***

Krailos came to when the first rays of the rising morning sun broke through the wide window grates and hit his eyes painfully. Barely realizing what was happening, he tried to take a sitting position and immediately felt a burning pain in his chest. Shedding his armor and somehow stretching out his shirt, he discovered with horror a deep bleeding cut that had only by miracle not reached his neck. "Holy... well, look at that..." -the guard thought. The entire fortress was bound by a seal of frightening silence, and the night guest had disappeared somewhere.
Overcoming the horror filling his body, Krailos hesitantly followed toward the exit of the tower. Descending the steps to the main entrance, he quickly dismissed thoughts of checking other allies for survivors. Instead, the legionnaire almost ran, without looking back, overcoming the aching pain, left the limits of the fortress and rushed north deep into the lands of the republic. By evening, the exhausted guard reached the first settlement, where sympathetic people provided him with all possible help.
He spent the subsequent years of his life traveling, working as a mercenary, accompanying traders and guarding merchants or researchers, as well as their belongings. Just like the other servants of the garrison, he was later recognized as dead or missing in action during the attack of monsters from the wastes, and was forced to completely sever all ties with his own past, family, and kin. He tried to drown his shameful flight from the battlefield and betrayal of his fatherland in alcohol, but every few weeks the nightmares of that night mockingly returned painful memories that he so strove to erase from memory. He did not understand why or for what reason he continued to move forward, but a subconscious desire to continue such an existence forced the former legionnaire to wander hopelessly into the void. Into the void of an already empty world.

Race:
Republic Humans: +2 skill points; +1 to skepticism for each unit of will; +5 to mana for each unit of intelligence.

Characteristics:
Strength - 30
Agility - 30
Perception - 10
Endurance - 30
Intelligence - 20
Will - 23
Charisma - 0
Unpleasantness - 15

Skills:

Legionnaire
+40% to health, willpower, initiative and accuracy if at least one ally participates in the battle
✧ Private ✧ Free skill and three skills of One-handed Weapon and Shield (x2)


Adventurer
+3 to all characteristics
+1 to cunning for each unit of intelligence
+1 to awareness for each unit of intelligence
✧ Premonition ✧ The character feels potentially deadly danger, an ambush, a potentially dangerous character, the need for more characters to participate in a quest, etc. (x2)
✧ Lucky ✧ Nullifies the effect of a lethal attack and gives the character a chance to escape from the battlefield (once per game day) (x2)


One-handed Weapon
Additional attack
Parrying (agility vs accuracy)
Accuracy: +0.7 to accuracy for each unit of agility


Shield
Skillful mastery: agility during block is increased 1.5 times (agility vs accuracy)
Stamina: +5 health for each unit of strength
Counterattack after block

Armor Wearing: removes the movement speed penalty when using heavy armor and shields.


Inventory: sword, shield, armor, heals, money