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Grant wakes up in an unfamiliar place with a horrible headache. A large bruise is forming on his forehead, his helm was broken in half from whatever hit it.
Grant looks around, but turning his head gets him dizzy and he lays his head down on cold marble tiles.
"Where am I?" He thinks in his head, he is not yet worried, his head hurts to much to worry, now he just wonders.
He lifts his head once more then passes out from the dizziness.

When Grant regains conscienceness he still had a horrible headache. He slowly looked around the dark room he was in. He didn't remember how he got here. He only knew he was here now.
The room was small, square, marble floored, no way out, no doors or windows. Dim light from torches along the wall. He was alone. He laid his head down again and fell asleep.

When Grant woke up again nothing had changed in the room. He still felt like it was spinning, but he couldn't go back to sleep. He had to figure out where he was or why he was here.
He tried to remember what had previously happened to him. He remembered being locked up in Darlok's castle, he remembered Konstantin. He tried to concentrate, but the concentration simply made his headache many times worse and he felt as if his head might blow so he stopped.
He slowly got to his feet, then feel down, his legs were weak and wobbly, they didn't feel broken, but he had no energy for his muscles to be used with.
He lay back down now, he took off his plate mail, and layed his head on his empty bag. He closed his eyes and went into a horrible nightmare...

Demons rose out of the portals, Grant was surrounded, he was alone, naked. He couldn't fight them with his weapons that were floating around him. He couldn't cast even the simplist spell. He tried, but he was defenseless.
Then the demon came at him and swung his axe...

Grant woke up in cold sweat. His head ached. And he knew why it hurt. A demon hit him square on his forehead. It broke his helm. He was lucky to alive... Maybe he wasn't alive... Maybe this was the afterlife realm.. That made sense, that was his only conclusion that he could imagine.
The torches along the wall seemed to burn forever and never go out. There shadows danced along the floor. Grant lay his head down once more.
While he was starting to doze off he began to hear the voices.

Grant looked around the dark room, but could not find where the source of laughter or footsteps or singing came from. Soon it stopped, then he layed his head down. And fell asleep, but his dream soon turned into an oddity.
Grant was standing, and Darlok appeared. Grant reached for his sword but the weight of the sword was great and he quickly gave up the thought.
Grant then looked at himself and saw he was wearing a pink dress! The spirit of mind was there now...
"Your Queen" it said, and an elf appeared beside Grant. "Your Queen" the spirit said and a lizard appeared beside Darlok.
At this time Grant saw that the land he was standing on was now checked like a chessboard.
"I am White" Darlok said coldly.
Sheep began to appear around Darlok, and hogs appeared around Grant. "I am white I move first. Take the pig to my right." Darlok said and the pig died.
"Pinks turn to move." The spirit announced.
"Erm.. Right.." Grant said as he slowly realized what was happening. "Take the sheep infront of me?" Grant said and the sheep died.
This went on for a long time, Grant didn't know what he was doing half the time, he was concious in his dream, but felt lost all the same.
"No more subjects on the board, take Queen." Darlok said when there was no longer any hogs wandering around the chessboard.
"Erm.. How many sheep are left?" Grant asked confused on the rules.
"2. But none on the board. Time is everything, Time is Chaos."
"Right, take Queen." Grant said and the lizard died beside Darlok.
"No longer any subjects or Queen. Take King." Darlok said and Grant fell to the ground dead.

Grant woke up with a startle, he was back on the island, the sun was in his face. He felt weak, he felt tired and hungry. He heardly managed to make it the depot out of town. Once he got there, he changed into his regular clothes and feel back to sleep trying to get rid of this headache he seemed to perminetly have.

Grant woke up again in the bright sunlight that quickly brought a headache onto him. He hadn't entered town, he was laying next to the Movement's depot. He opened it and drank some water out of a bucket. He felt horrible. He rubbed his head softly and chewed on some herbs Konstantin had given him while they were cellmates.
He sat up and had a small breakfast. He waited and met Val de Gausse, the two friends spoke with each other for a short time. Val told Grant he hadn't become idle, but instead had been training for the day he would raise his axe against Darlok. Val told Grant he needed to get the Movement me into shape once more and Grant agreed.
But Grant was already tired, the talking and thinking made him drowsy and he soon fell asleep.

"I wonder if this concussion will ever leave me..." Grant says to himself one night. He chews on a piece of dried meat and ponders lightly what his next move should be.
His men are in prime condition for fighting. They would easily walk over Zerbus or any allies Darlok now has. His only problem would be Darlok himself. And since Grant wasn't anyway near fighting condition Grant couldn't afford any sort of campaign.
Instead Grant thought of after Darlok. He thought of how he would build Callahorn after Darlok was defeated, because Grant swore to himself, he would be beaten...

Grant's concussion had lessened considerably the past few days. He had a parchment on the ground and a quill in his hand. He wrote lightly counting enemies he had and plotting ways of defeating them. He knew his men were loyal, but they were also good under pressure, which was more then he could say about Darlok's men, half of them would desert the second they realized they were outnumbered.
The Movement was a different breed, no matter what the town guard said. The Movement men would fight to the death no matter the odds because they had a since of pride and they believed in what they fought for.

And that was why the Movement would win. They did not lie, cheat or complain when out numbered. They were self-confident men, self reliant men, they were not cowards.
And so Grant wrote on his parchment and grinned slightly at the number of men he had, and the number of new men he was getting.

The news of the war was on Grant's mind. This was the worst time for such a thing to happen. The Movement was still strong and infact the move for war by the dwarves under false allegations had given them a couple more volunteers, however, Grant was not sure he would be ready for war.
His concussion had come back it seemed and everytime he tried to think of a strategy he would get a migrain and need to retire for the day. He knew most of the Clan of the Axe, or so he hoped, he thought that the odds were even, however, he was unsure how many allies the Clan of the Axe would get.
Tialdin had much control in Lyrenzia, he would likely be able to push for support from Lyrenzia which would give the Grey Rose reasons to move to war which would complicate things further.
Grant needed to get help... He needed soldiers he did not have.

Avrillon began to plant the seeds in the nutrient forest ground. He poured the water on the seeds and from them grew trees. Grant smiled at this, this was the first real victory he had in the entire 'war'.
With these trees his Movement would have a defensive position around their depot and they would not be such easy prey for their dwarven and grey knight enemies.
Hopefully Oldra would approve for trees to be used in such a case. Who really knew? Grant only knew that these trees were the lifeline for the entire Movement and any other man, woman or child who didn't want to be made into a Lyrenzia citizen. That was Grant's belief and that is why he fought.

The sheep baahed and grazed around the Movement's depot. He chewed on the grass and he slept on the ferns. He rested long into the day. All the Movement members were shocked and frightened, for this sheep was wearing Grant's pants and his wizard hat.

Grant rubbed his temples as he remembered what he had been. It seemed as if it were a dream, chewing on grass, bahing and especially the whole Fluffy incident. It made him laugh when he really thought of it. Nargun worked in mysterious ways indeed, Grant had begun to drift from what a real follower would act like, he had begun to be the old cold Grant. That was not what he was ment to be like.
He lost when he was cold, he won when he was a follower of Nargun. It was easy for him to stop being cold, besides, he got along with everyone else much better.

Grant giggled as he skeched out drawings for his attack. He had been able to bring a lot of the Movement out of inactivity and he had gotten several allies in such a short amount of time.
He chewed on a mushroom and grinned as he added a few details. The plan would work, if it didn't work then Grant was the biggest fool ever known. Grant laughed at the Irony of that thought, he was in the fool stage of being a Nargun follower. Surprisingly his mind seemed to be more productive this way.
He didn't like the fact that the Bloodskulls were waring with him for no reason whatsoever, but Grant worked past it. They were just another problem he had to solve. They were nothing magnificent, none of them were special, they were mediocre in Grant's mind.
Even Nilo, the "master mage" was a joke to Grant. The hobbit didn't know the first thing about being a wizard, which was patience, he was to rash and to quick to act.
But that was not important, what was important was that Nilo would use his lack of patience when Grant wanted him to.