For many centuries, peace had reigned over the six civilized nations. Whilst the land of the barbarians was plagued by internal warfare and constant battles.
But when a new villain emerges, threatening to engulf the six civilized nations into chaos and despair, their only hope it seems is someone that will arise from among the barbarians.
Arador leaned back on a pile of equipment to rest a little while in his tent at the the barbarian encampment. He had missed two nights of sleep, and now it was time for some rest even if but a little. As a barbarian never knew when rival barbarians would attempt an attack, even at night. For some of the barbarian raiders were lead by night fighters. Men trained and capable of effectively carrying out raids at night despite the darkness. As a consequence their onslaught was brutally effective.
Arador kept hold of his axe even as his eyes were now closed. He had to be ever-ready. His mind began to wonder over memories of battles gone by and dreams of battles to come. He heard footsteps of one of the fellow commanders in his tribe, coming into his tent. Probably to discuss tactics of the forthcoming raid on the enemy at first light. But... that particular commander had not been present at the encampment this evening. He would only be able to arrive from his journey just in time to join them once the raid had started, according to the plan.
Just then Arador's eyes opened. Awake. Alert. Arador saw what was in fact an enemy barbarian tribesman readying his knife to throw at him. Arador swiftly knelt down and forwards, causing the knife to narrowly miss him, while simultaneously slicing his axe across the abdomen of the assassin. Arador dealt a final devastating blow, swinging his axe to chop off the head of his enemy.
"I must now warn my warriors", thought Arador, "it seems the fight will start early, tonight!"