From the moment he opened his eyes, he felt… Different. His wounds have healed and sealed, his body feels lighter and his axe wasn't as heavy as before. It felt unnatural to him, perhaps the witch casted a featherweight spell?
Nah, that's ridiculous.
While trying to figure out what happened, he notices Vesper up and about, grazing the nearby bushes.
"My steed! Oh my boy I thought I lost you!"
He pets his horse and hugged it. The bond between them stronger than ever. Ventren truly loved his steed.
Why is he alive?
Before his train of thought could explore that question further, he notices his dried blood on the ruins.
Ventren remembered the betrayal his party committed against him. He grit his teeth, gripped his axe and screamed with pure, unfiltered and raw rage.
They were supposed to enjoy the spoils of the ruins together and drink to their hearts content, yet he was shot and left for dead by his party. Exhausted from tanking the hits within the expedition, the traitors were able to overwhelm and wound Ventren.
Why did they betray me?
Ventren did not know the answer to that question. The betrayal was almost done arbitrarily—at least from his perspective. His burning rage was slowly being replaced with curiosity. He wants to know why he was betrayed and why he was used.
There was no use to think of why now. He would have to question them personally.
Ventren mounted his horse and spurred it as it galloped through the edge of the ruins and towards a nearby village.
Redwood.
A simple name bestowed upon the lumber village due to its red-ish wooden houses.