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A boat docks in the harbour, the waves washing against it's sturdy wooden frame. The sailors release a plank leading to dry land. Amongst the crowd of men stands a lone figure, he carries no swords of staffs only his cape and a few belongings. The figure lights his pipe and steps off the boat, a slight limp to his walk. He walks past the lanterns lighting the docks, illuminating his weathered and wrinkled face and greying hair. Taking a draw from his pipe his reaches a crossroad, a large wooden signpost stands in the centre.

Trollsbane >
<Greenbriar

The man smiles and heads east. Trollsbane, where he will live out the rest of his days.

..The man arrives at the east gate of Trollsbane, he looks into the night sky, stars glisten effortlessly in the sky, the moon hides behind small wisps of blackened cloud.
He walks past the gate, a hand stops him...

"who goes there?"

A guard, he bears the mark on his armour.

The man smiles, his wrinkled face highlighted by the guards torch.

"Alfred Corvane, yourself?

The Guard chuckles, he glances at the other guard sound asleep against the wall

"Come through then mate, sorry about that..gotta be careful nowadays.."

Alfred nods and smiles, he produces his pipe from his pocket and walks on past the inn, where more guards reside, eagerly guarding something.. but what? He empties a small amount of tobacco into his pipe and lights it,he takes a draw and blows out a cloud of smoke, as he walks further into town.

The man arrives at his new home, a small shack, just outside the east gate.

He opens the creaking door and looks inside, he frowns and grumbles. The shack is empty aside from a bed and a desk and chair.

He leaves his things and steps outside into the open air. He breaths it in and smiles.

Several men hurridly pass him on his way to town, each dressed in armour, carrying long swords. He sighs.. memories.. how he wishes to hold a sword once more.. but he is too old... too old to live.