a stranger dressed in cloth and light yet tattered and battle worn armour sits under and old dead tree in the darkness.. a fog surrounds oyu and the stranger and the only source of light is a small orb of light conjured in his hand, a scratched and cracked shield on hsi arm and a rusted blade in his sheath.

slowly he looks up at you, his eyes a pure snowy white, was he blind? no he couldn't be, for what blind man could look right into a persons eyes.

"so.. another has come to claim the throne.. beware young one for many dangers and secrets lay in wake within this fog, all who have come before have met with a swift demise.. yet if you are careful and keep your whits about you, you will persevere.. tell me what is your name?"

The mist around the old man began to shift and churn as the voice left its echoing and defiant tone. The sound of crushed earth beneath heavy leather soles, was the only other noise that gave weight to presence of another being. Slowly a body began to form from the mist, revealing the source of the voice. Black boots stepped forth from the mist, followed by worn gloves and a heavy hood. Ever so smoothly did the mist roll out of the mans path as his arms and legs were revealed bring forth the entire body.

This man stood perhaps six feet tall, or higher from the angle the old man was sitting at. His frame was not large nor was it frail, but that of an athlete or kings soldier. His armor was a mix of padded leather, chainmail and plate; all which seemed to have been hand made for the man rather than issued as a whole. It was not the fine quality of royals, nor the rugged face of bandit rabble. It was strong and sturdy, worn from seasoned use and veteran experience.

The man just stood there waiting for the old mans reply, calm and collected. Neither his hands rested on hilts, nor his posture that of hostility. It was simply his bearing and will that gave off a sense of intimidation and determination. This man had come with a purpose, though that itself was still to be revealed....