It was a dull, freezing day in the flat northlands of Clandon, a land further north than all the rest. Icefurr the fox walked along the hard, rocky road. He had heard of a horde building up in the northern flatlands, and he wanted to see what he could do to help. The Rogue Captain was dedicated to what he did.
As he was walking, he drew his sword. He licked his paw and tested the blade. Still sharp. He gazed into the smooth, polished surface. He could see his reflection: dusty, road damaged fur with blue, sad eyes. He couldn't believe that about three seasons ago, he was a pillaging vermin hordebeast. Then, he heard voices and sounds of a scuffle up ahead.