Putting it to writing just makes it seem crazier. Crazier than it already is. We were already insane for thinking a plan like this could work - even more so for realizing the repercussions. I gotta have it written down for my own sake and whoever finds this tattered-to-shit journal.

We ain't from here. And not in that "from another kingdom" sense. Another world. It was a prison break gone wrong. We were on a bus - think a large carriage made for carrying many people - and we were hit by a rig - think a carriage made for hauling many, many goods. This was no accident. In fact, it was planned - a prison break. Rig hits the bus in just the right way, we all get off the bus as free men.

The human element. Always a problem. The rig was going a little too fast. The bus turned a little too soon. We went tumbling. Those of us that survived the wreckage found ourselves here. Only about half, maybe. Two dozen guys of a varied "colorful background." And one poor guard. The guys decided to secure our newfound freedom, and get rid of any obstacles in the way of that. The group that walked away from that was maybe 16 strong.

Some of died on the road. Ate the wrong plants. Pissed off the wrong wolves. But those of us that made it to the town gate? We were strong. Proven. Welcome. There were ten of us. We split into two groups of five after finding out how this place worked.

See, we ended up in this brand-new kingdom that needs help staying free. Mercenary work - didn't have to be bound to the laws of that new kingdom so long as you weren't an enemy of it. Half the guys liked that and took to it well. The other half, the half I stuck with, made our home here. These walls were under constant siege inside and outside by all kinds of things.

So us five, we became monster hunters. All kinds of stuff we saw in horror movies or fantasy books ended up being real. And we got paid good. Real good. We were living it up like kings compared to our previous lives.

So fast forward a few months. A couple years, even. A total of five of us "Busters," as we had earned the nickname, were left alive. Out of my crew, Danny went down to some half-spider abomination, and Scott had some sort of disease. Even with magical healing, it only slowed, not stopped.

The mercs lost Shane and Quan in a border skirmish, and they were buried with military honors. Nothing any of us deserved. Steve though - he was executed for war crimes on the spot months ago. No honors for him.

So the five of us left - me, Jerry, Alek, Yun, and Pat - were having drinks at the tavern. Probably the first time all of us were in the same room since getting ourselves in this mess. We're talking. And we all kinda agree: we're getting too old for this shit. Probably ten years in on this, and the youngest of us is in our late forties. We were so involved in everything that we never tried to get back, not that we were in a hurry for jail again.

And then one of the Royal messengers busted into the tavern, trumpet blaring. "The King requests any willing volunteers to aid the southeastern town of Gravesford immediately! A portal to another realm has opened nearby, and needs capable individuals guarding it!"