"War... war never changes...
Since the dawn of humankind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing path with rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything, from God, to justice, to simple psychotic rage."
~ The Sage Armoth (actually from Fallout, but it's creative re-use)
The lands of Argaria are home to many. Different cultures, different races, and people from different walks of life. In recent history, the plague of war has spread across the land. Goblins and orcs have risen together to fight under an unknown leader, and villages have been razed in their hunger for battle. The human forces have formed the strongest resistance, and they are slowly drawing others into the fight. Elven archers and dwarven warriors are slowly joining the cause, aware that if the battle is not joined now, they will fall separately.
All this, to you, is just rumor, however. You live in a small village in the interior of Argaria, still some distance from the war for now. Life is normal. You go about your business as you have every day since you were born, seeing to the needs of the village and your family. That is, until the day the soldiers in black came. Men in full suits of ebony armor marched into the village, bringing with them a series of carriages drawn by black horses. There was little resistance of note to speak of. The soldiers roughed the villagers up easily, and then selected the healthiest and most promising for... undetermined reasons. You, among a few others of your village, were shoved into the back of a carriage, the scent of fear practically ground into the wooden walls.
Days pass, scraps of food being thrown into the back of the carriages at seemingly regular intervals. You've long since given up trying to track where you're going, having never been this far away from your home in life. You struggle to not give into the fear, but everyone around you is, and it's hard to shove it back down. The only thing to do, really, is sleep and eat and grow used to the uneven bumps transferred directly from the carriage wheels.
You awake to the sound of stone beneath the wheels. The heavy rattle of the entire carriage helps to draw your alertness. Before you can shake the sleep out of your eyes, the rear door of the carriage opens and the black men are back, yanking you from the cage. You catch a brief glimpse of a fortified keep before a metal gauntlet cracks against the back of your skull and you crumple to the stone ground. Your last thought before passing out is that it's unusually cold. Maybe it's simply night...