Agori

Bara Magna... home of the Agori, villagers who's only goal in life is survival... the strong make it, the weak are doomed to the sands. Gurtan is one of these Agori, but he is not strong, yet he has survived. He is a simple trader who trys to stay alive in his own way, which was working up to now. He mades weapons, and traded them on to anyone for food and other materials. But lately, he had been getting many more Skrall coming his way for weapons and tools. Little did he know, is that he had been doing something that he would never forget. It all began one day, as the sun blazes down upon the scorching sands, Gurtan and some of his trade partners are going to meet up with a mystery trader, Gurtan, as always, suspects nothing but a mere trade... the others however feel that there is something wrong with were the trade is taking place.

As the trade caravan enters unfirmiliar territory, things start to get a little more unusual that normal when crossing the sands. Upon arrival, there is no one there, just sand and rocks as far as the eye could see. "Hello?" said Gurtan, wondering why he has been summoned to this remote area. "Well, looks like we better... LOOK OUT!!!" Just before he can finish, Gurtan spots a Vorox emerge from the sand, dragging his two trade partners into the ocean of sand... silence fell upon the desert. He ran as fast as he could through the scorching sand with a look on his face that he himself hope to never pull again. After running for fifteen minutes, he finally passes out under the seering sun.

Gurtan awoke suddenly, his vision still blurred, all he could see where dark figures with glowing eyes. "Who are you?!?" He asked, worrying about whether they are friendly or not. "We are the ones that summoned you, we wish to set up a trade route with you, you supply us with powerful weapons, and we will spare your life." Gurtan still could not see his surroundins, so he could not tell whether they were going to kill him or not. "I will do whatever you want, but please, spare me, I am a simple trader... I have no Quarel with..." Gurtan paused, unwilling to say what he feared. "Skrall, we are Skrall, and you will do as we say!" Gurtan's heart rose to his throat, the only thing that passed through his mind was death, pain and suffering, then, as quickly as he awoke, he was knocked out again. He awake yet again, this time, outside his village, Tesara, where he believed he could be safe from even the Skrall with the protection of Gresh.

During the week, Gurtan kept quiet, making powerful weapons in the hope his first batch will not be his last. As the week went on, Skrall appearences increased, with Gresh away training for the Championship, Gurtans hope for protection sank just as his partners did that fateful day. He continued to make weapons, each more powerful than the last. Skrall kept comic, supplying him with materials and food, and with every passing moment, he thought what the future might hold for his life, and the life of everyone. The big day came, the championship was soon to start, Glatorian from across Bara Magna came to fight for the title... but no Skrall... usually, at this point in time, the Skrall would be all over the arena, wanting what is 'theirs'. But no... the Skrall had not arrived, Gurtan was only just starting to calm down, feeling more relaxed that he wouldnt have to worry about Skrall visiting him.

Strakk was fighting Tarix, it was very tense and gripping, Raanu, elder of Vulcanus, seemed uneasy, after walking to the gate of the arena, he yelled at the top of his voice "SKRALL!". The fight stopped, Agori started to panic, Glatorian rushed to the gate, and Skrall poured in like Bone Hunters on traders. Gurtan looked around, confused in the sudden riot, and what he saw shocked him... the tools the Skrall were using, were so firmiliar, he couldnt believe it, he fell to his knees, knowing that the Skrall used him to their advantage, he felt responsible for what had happened, he believed that he cause the fall of Atero... in the end though, he became one of the casualties among the ruins... never to be heard of again.