After having lived the apocalypse in the Glargh stadium, our tired and depicted adventurers find that the Elfe has become queen of his community! It's too much for the Nain. It's difficult now to envisage the adventure with a person of the court who hairs ponies! But it's the war in Folonariel, and we soon learn that it's war everywhere, without any of the parties involved claiming the slightest quarrel. Barbarians, humans, elves of all kinds, semi-men and ogres find themselves mixed with this saraband of violence, in the heart of a mystery that plunges Fangh's Earth into disarray and the shortage of sausages. Our company, now of level four, has no choice but to accept its new rank as a royal escort, with the vague hope of being able to win gold coins without risking its skin. It's then the character of the character of the character, the character of the character, the character of the character.