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From the Embrace of Chaos, Peace is Born...
he winter winds that swept across the Storm Horn Mountains often brought unwanted things to secluded High Horn. Tonight, in addition to the driving gales and pelting snow, the winds brought an unusual stranger.
None knew him when he tossed open the door of the Lonely Trail, a Guesthouse and Tavern just below the Outer Wall of the Fortress itself. We saw only a large and dark, shadowed stranger, his black cloak driving away the swirling snow as if by a will of it's own. Those nearest the door pulled away from the invading elements and the unknown form before them as the door slammed behind the newcomer, shaking the knarled wooden frame.
With remarkable ease and grace, the stranger stalked purposefully across the polished floorboards to the hearth where a fire roared sullenly. Once there, he bent low, tossed a few logs into the flames, and stood, silently absorbing the warmth and casting his lengthened shadow across the common room for what seemed like an eternity.
he rumble of conversation and gossip in the room slowly diminished as all eyes in the taproom cautiously turned towards the silent figure. Strangely, as if prepared for this moment, the stranger turned to face his fellow patrons, throwing the bulk of his cloak over one shoulder, but neglecting to pull the cowl of his hood from his shadowed face; a face not remarkable, but somewhat well-worn and foreboding. An unusual glint became evident in his eyes, malicious, scheming, and purposeful. That glint in those powerful, harsh eyes is one I'll not soon forget.
He spoke suddenly, a hollow and low voice with an unusual accent I could not place. And a voice that sent a chill straight to my bones, as I was drawn to his words, neglecting my duties to the patrons of the bar and forgetting to fill the orders of my customers. Almost entranced, I watched and listened to the unknown man before me.
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adventurous souls have preceeded you here. Fewer still, ever leave the same.
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