The night was dark and stormy, the wind howled, causing ships and small boats to sway and bounce upon the sea. Bright flashes and loud crashes echoed out into the night. The rain beats down on the city and stings those who venture out into the streets. People sit nervous and frightened in their homes, at the inn above the tavern. Inside the tavern very few patrons gather to sit out the storm. The ones steeped deep in their drink watch the storm cautiously, without movement or sound. As the lightening flashed and the rain danced in the wind, the few caught outside could be seen running into buildings and ducking under shelters seeking cover.
This night, in the port town of Tetera, was the night of the first storm of the season, but this one seemed different. Many storms have blown upon the shores of this town, but this one sent dark feelings and tremors through the town folk with every crackle of lightening and the boom of thunder. The city was covered in a veil of deep dark feelings, such as never been felt before, as the storm pounded the town.
The storm raged on throughout the night, and moments before daybreak a loud boom echoes out, sending vibrations throughout the town, then as quickly as it started it was finished.
SEVEN DAYS LATER:
It had been seven days since the first storm blew through Tetera. The clean up and repairs to the damaged buildings and houses were finally complete. That dark feeling that fell upon the town that night had only lasted a few days and it just seemingly lifted and was gone.
As evening drew near and the lamplighters began their nightly ritual of lighting up the streets at dusk, the Golden Griffin tavern began to see the evening crowd fall through the doors. The ale, mead, and wine was flowing as plates of red meat and fire roasted potatoes were served to the hungry crowd. The tavern came alive with tales being spun, cards shuffled and dealt as laughter filled the building.
As the spirits and mirth continued into the night, it was soon silenced as the door of the tavern flew open . The startled patrons stared in momentary shock at the door, as a small hooded figure limps into the tavern, The rhythmic thumping of his walking stick echoed throughout the building, thud and then a step, thud and a step, till the figure had made his way to a small table pushed off to the side by itself. Seating himself and leaning his stick against the wall he began to look over the room and stared at what seemed like every little detail of the place.
Ordering a bottle of the finest elven wine and removing his hood to reveal face lined with the wrinkles of a long hard life. A ragged scar ran from his hairline, down and across his right eye and ended just below it. His hair was thin and stringy looking and white as fresh fallen snow. He cleared his throat and letting out a noise akin to that of a bleating sheep and began to pour a cup of wine. Gripping the cup with a trembling, wrinkled, bony hand he began to sip his wine and stare at the the posters and parchments tacked on the back wall.
As the old man looked over the wall and sipped his wine, the heavyset barmaid approached his table and offered him another bottle of wine and begins to inquire as to his reasons for being out this late at night and why he came to this town. Looking up over his cup and turning his head so his good eye was toward the barmaid, he grins a yellow ragged tooth grin and utters, “I am here looking to find someone.” The barmaid looked curiously at him, shook her head and walked back to the bar.
FOUR DAYS LATER
Everyday at dusk the old man would limp to the Golden griffin tavern, take the table off by itself, and sit there sipping wine and waiting for someone till closing time. Having said no more than,”I am here to find someone.”, had spurred the tavern regulars and some of the townsfolk to wonder and talk among themselves. The biggest question among them was, Who is he waiting for? Who could be worth all this unwaivering dedication day after day?
With the tavern in its usual state of spirits and mirth making happiness filled the place. The night was clear and the port town of Tetera was enveloped in a calm and quaint feeling. As the patrons enjoyed their night at the tavern, it would soon be short lived.
An earthshaking clap of thunder silenced the tavern, hail stones began pelting the city, thw wind began to howl and rage against the town. The patrons were shaken and frightened, all except for the old man, who sat there continuing to sip his wine and watch the tavern entrance.
For hours the storm beat down on the city, but it cleared away and turned to a gentle rain. The patrons at the tavern soon relaxed and resumed their drinking and mirth making, the card games resumed and the atmosphere soon was a joyful one. Just when it was beginning to get loud the room went silent as the tavern door swung open and a gust of wind blew into the tavern. With the whole place staring at the door an eerie silence fell upon the place, standing in the doorway was a smaller figure, dressed from head to toe in black, not a bit of skin or any hint to their identity was shown, except for a pair of deep hazel eyes. Without a word the figure seemed to almost glide across the room, toward the table of the old man. Taking a sword off their back the figure laid it on the table and seated themselves across the table facing the old man.
Exchanging glances, the old man nodded at the figure, and the figure returned a nod, while reaching inside his black robe and revealing a small, brown, leather pouch. The figure slides the pouch across the table to the old man, picking it up he put it under his robe and began to pour two cups of wine. The two sat there till the morning sun broke over the horizon, not a single word was uttered between them.
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