"Growing up in Altamar, you listen to all the propaganda about how it was the last line of defence, the staging point for that one last push which defeated evil. But if I've learned anything, it's that there's still evil out there, isn't there?
As a soldier of Altamar, I did my time on the walls, plus patrols out into the hills and down to the Heathlands too. We'd often find ourselves set against brigands and common thieves – that was worse than the orcs and goblins in a way.
What I found in the Heathlands was that Altamar isn't always seen as this beacon of light that we thought we were. Heathies didn't care what happened 300 years ago, they just saw the soldiers marching in, clearing out their grain supplies and shaking down their fathers and brothers because an Altamaran merchant had been held up. My troop were good men, to a person; we weren't corrupt, and I never saw anything that I didn't think was right. But, I think me and the men were a bit too good at knowing where to apply pressure on townsfolk to find out where the local bandits were based. One night down in a little place called Krenfeldt, the troops I was commanding were set on by villagers. Burned all of the others in the homestead that we were shacked up in, with me the only one that made it out. I should have seen the signs that we'd pushed the locals too far, all because of some bandit lord named Harald Redthen who was supposed to be in the area.
Even if that hadn't happened I'd already lost interest in the cause, and would have left Altamar regardless. As it was, I became a ranger back in the Sunder Mountains, far from the Heathlands and not too close to Altamar. Some rangers spend their time ferrying people through the foothills. I prefer to spend my time in the forests and mountain paths, keeping an eye out for the real enemies – orcs and goblins, not the race of men."