Bar The Gate
For generations the small hamlet had been a victim to the crown. Over-taxed and mistreated. One word deemed unfit for royal ears invariably results in a swift iron backhand for insufferable insolence. Year after year it was the same… until one day they decided to close the gate. The royal infantry raged with irate protest, demanding in the name of the law to raise the portcullis, and much to their shock the town obliged. But through the churned muddy fog of the portal emerged a swarm of armored silhouettes intent to repel evil from their residence. Even still the crown expected little resistance, but they soon fell victim to their own arrogance collapsing one by one into the bloodstained dirt. Only with their once assured victory demolished did they realize that the iron door they came knocking upon was closed not for the town's protection, but for their own.