Editing Beyond the Horizon (section)

==== Monsters ====
{| class="sortable wikitable" cellpadding=5px
! Location
! Type
! Message
|-
| style="text-align:center;" | 23, 67, 0
| style="padding-left:7px; padding-right:5px; white-space: nowrap;" | {{Cn|Ogre Mage|name=Ogre Magi}}
| style="padding-left:7px; padding-right:5px;" | So that's what the [[ogre]]s look like. Huge, clumsy, with tarnished olive-colored skin, and poorly armed—but with their strength, that doesn't matter so much; even a club in the hands of such a hulk can be more dangerous than the sharpest sword. [[Zog]] seemed to realize, though, that if his warriors were given good weapons and armor, they would find few equals in battle. We can only hope he doesn't find another source of metal, and we won't let them get their hands on [[Burton]] craftsmanship while we're alive.
|-
| style="text-align:center;" | 69, 1, 1
| style="padding-left:7px; padding-right:5px; white-space: nowrap;" | {{Cn|Halfling Grenadier|name=Halfling Grenadiers}}
| style="padding-left:7px; padding-right:5px;" | “Halt! Who goes there?”<p>A menacing, but somewhat constrained voice came from the darkness.<p>“We are not your enemies—unless, of course, you are from [[Zog]]'s gang!”<p>“But… What… No! We're hired to guard a sacred relic! Show yourself, you insolent stranger!”<p>“It’s you?! I thought you'd been eaten by [[ogre]]s!”, I exclaimed, before getting hissed at from all sides. These men were the first squad we'd fielded since we'd gotten the mass production of [[Frederick]]'s firecrackers up and running. They went out of town on a reconnaissance mission, but never came back. Since then, I'd been going out scouting personally.<p>“Quiet! Or we'll all be buried under a cave-in! Yes, that's us. We were hired.”<p>“What? Hired?! As in to guard something?! I don't even want to ask by who or why. What the hell were you thinking?”<p>“Well… He was a big guy with horns and hooves, not red, though. He didn't really ask if we wanted to or not, and he didn't seem to care who we were. Ridiculous, isn’t it: grenadiers in a dungeon where a boulder can fall on your head if you just sneeze at the wrong time! And all because of this blasted piece of moldy parchment! Damn it all, and let that bull-faced freak and his gold go to hell! I've forgotten the last time we saw the sun!” Something on the speaker’s mournful face glinted in the torchlight.<p>“All right, you miserable excuses for mercenaries. I forgive your defection, but now you're back in the ranks. Come on, let's get out of here! Isn’t it better to die in battle than get your head caved in by a rock when you go to do number two?”</p>
|}