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I welcome thee to mine campfire and bid thee be seated, let us sup upon the fruits this fair world has to profer up to us.

Might I indulge your attention with a tale? A tale of a lost soul seeking that which was never lost but was unseen and unreachable?

It begins with a young but adventurous man, a man who sees things as they can be rather than as they are. He had it in his head to make things into the vision he had. Everything but himself. And being a man of taste he headed for the courts of the Lord of this land with his harp and his few meagre possessions to seek his fortune as the Player of players.

Unfortunately we all know these things are never 'working as intended' so he fell upon hard times and had to trust in his fathers hand-me-down sword to make coin. So he headed to the repulsive den of wretched life that lives beneath Brittain (no not the PK Guild the other place). And here he found his true calling...killing and bloodshed - the place where all lost souls gather.

So with this new found passion he scavenged armour from the dead and remade himself as the warrior, as the ranger and as the storyteller...seeking new depths to plomb and fel abominations to slay.

And there begins my tale, of the lost becoming found again, of the seeker finding not which he seeks but a new adventure and a more fulfilling task to be set.

Now I bid you good evening for the sun rides low and a new task lies in waiting on the morrow.
Well my first traversal of these so called sewers was nothing but a farce. Obviously my skills were superior to theirs. And as a boon I have several armours and weapons that I scavenged. Would you like any for yourdelf? They will mostly be sold to the smelter for their iron contents.

*sigh*

If this is evil then I must seek a foe further from here. I procured a rune from a fellow traveller. He says it will lead to my fortune or ruin. Either way it will make a tale for the campfire no? Whatever you may think, there are many people in the town of Brittain that seek the same adventure as us: they merely need to be directed appropriately as they all seem bent on the same objective. I think the hour grows darker and we must sleep betwixt our sword and bedroll or perish. Theres an odd scent upon the air. Sleep now and I will speak to you a morrow hence.