Reputation

At the north gate, a large bonfire was lit up, casting flickering shadows on the tense faces of the hired mercenaries and the Magi.

Beneath their nervous eyes, however, one could see the glint of greed. Just thinking about the amount of resources they would be able to harvest from the beast corpses made them excited.

The mayor of Stratford, an old man with long white hair and a beard that reached till his chest, stood on a makeshift platform, rallying the people gathered with words of courage.

"Brave warriors, the night of the full moons is upon us yet again. You have been hired because of your prowess, your bravery, and your reputation as the finest mercenaries money can buy.

"You fight not for a kingdom or a cause, but for the reward promised to you. Let me reassure you that the reward will be as substantial as it has been in the past. Eighty percent of all materials harvested from the magical beast corpses will be distributed to you all."