From the gently lapping shores of the Faerill Sea in the east, over the vast sweeping plains of the lands of Tyria, and north to where the Broken Mountains rise majestic from their bed of gnarled forest – peace reigned over all Cyriad. In a private gulley, deep in the verdant Creased Valley - the lazy, ambling flight of a bumble bee was being observed by even lazier onlookers.

Lying by a pool and idly chewing a twig, his dirty feet resting on a rotten log was Hack Tintwistle. Hack was a simple lad, who enjoyed simple pleasures. At least that’s what he’d have people believe. Being dismissed from his duties for the day was no accident, however much he had made it look like one. Together with his good friend Thom, the pair had been ordered away from the plough after snapping several tailpieces and having the horses bolt – it suited them just fine. Yet now, as he finally lost interest in the bee’s erratic flight, Hack was growing tired of another afternoon spent on his back.