Wars of Eredhar: The Dawn of Darkness

"The darkness approaches"

 "Are you sure it's going to happen?" Bob asked as he grabbed the tankard's handle, looking at Aselajar and Jack.

"I have heard reports of villages and small establishments being raided by things that the people could not comprehend", Aselajar said, wiping with his elbow some ale he accidentally spilled on the table.

"I still can't get it out of my head...what happened back at the camp", Jack shivered as he looked over his shoulder, towards the window, as if expecting to see something unusual.

"What happened there is nothing compared to what awaits Lenav", Aselajar sighed, shaking his head in discontent.

"Look at them... they have no idea what's coming and there is little we can do to change that. The bloody old man won't lift a finger..." Bob look around him at the cheerful people drinking and enjoying the warmth of a quiet night.

"We need to do something. There must be a way we can avoid sharing the same fate as the ones from the camp..." Jack rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath.

"We need to try and talk with the village guards, with their leader, to be more precise."

"Well, what are we waiting for, Aselajar?" Bob pushed his tankard away and stood up, slightly tipsy.

"Sit your ass down!" Jack almost shouted at him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling Bob back down next to him. "We can't just barge in at this hour, that will only get us arrested!" "He is right. We need to tread carefully here if we are to have any luck at getting them on our side." Aselajar looked at the tavern keeper, holding his tankard up and pointing at it. "One more, please".

The tavern keeper shifted her attention to Aselajar, nodding and smiling as he requested another drink. The fireplace was burning brightly, bathing the room with its warmth and light, as the tavern keeper was scrubbing some stains from the countertop. A faint melody was playing in the background, the soothing sound coming from an old wooden music box.

The door of the tavern suddenly opened wide and a tall man appeared in the doorway, his clothes wet, for it had started raining as Aselajar and the company lost track of time. The man was fairly robust, and his wrinkles, grey beard and hair told many stories. He had a strange scar under his left eye that looked like a teardrop. He was dressed somewhat elegantly, with a light blue long-sleeved shirt and a dark leather coat on top. Strapped to his belt were two weapons, a longsword and a dagger, each in black sheaths.

"Hello there!" the tavern keeper said, giving him a warm smile as he walked inside, running his hand through his wet slick hair.

The man inhaled deeply as he took a seat at a table. It was a long and sturdy wooden table, right by the fireplace. He sat with his back at it, letting the soothing warmth of the fire caress his skin. He pushed away the plate that was brought before him and grabbed a tankard, looking towards her. "Give an old man some ale to soothe his throat, would you?"

"Are you actually going to pay for your drink this time, old man?" she grinned as she walked to him, taking his tankard and filling it up. Some of the ale accidentally dripped on a candle that was burning between them, extinguishing it.

"Now, now...that only happened one time", he grinned, looking up at her.

"What brings you here, old friend?" the tavern keeper sat on the other side of the table, lighting back the candle.

"Sadly, troubled times are upon us..." he sighed, shaking his head, quickly emptying his tankard.

"Oh my, what happened?" she frowned a bit, eyeing a cut on his left arm.