Years passed, and Targ quickly grew into a strong young halfling. As Targ grew, the battles with orcs and goblins took thier toll on his tribe. Many of the stronger warriors had fallen. The tribal shaman had grown ill. Many of thier hunts had turned sour, either finding nothing or angering some foul monster. The eldars believed that they had angered thier patron diety Tempus. During one of thier councils, it was decided that a warrior was to venture out into the world to return glory and honor to the tribe by doing Tempus' bidding. But they also wanted someone who could return with fantastic tales of slain beasts, vanquished evil villains, and hundreds and hundreds of dead orcs and goblins.

Targ was chosen.

One night under a full moon the tribe began to prepare. A massive campfire was set in an open field. Targ began chanting his battle songs. The tribe exploded into a wild frenzy of chaotic dancing that lasted for hours. Targ was given many wildly colored mushrooms, inducing him into a trance. During which he was to receive a vision from Tempus about what to do. The next morning brought much sadness and happiness. Sadness because thier best story-teller, and great hunter was gone. Happiness because they knew thier future rests in good hands.