Garen was traveling to a nearby village when he heard the commotion. Usually he wasn't one to travel at night but given the circumstances he was in a hurry. He had heard rumors that in this village someone was setting up an expedition into the Fog, Garen couldn't let something like that pass him by.

So he was as a wraith passing through the trees, silent, careful. Finally he was passing a farm when the familiar sounds of combat reached his ears. He slowly drew Gwynt, it's polished, engraved blade shining in the moonlight. Garen crept to the edge of the light coming from a bonfire, there he saw a few men fighting, just a bunch of dark figures against the firelight. He moved on through the trees, searching for any indication of what he might like to do. 

Eventually he found a group of scattered men working their way through the trees. From the corner of his eye he saw a dark figure descend and kill one, then two. The figure glided through the shadows as if made of the darkness itself. Garen couldn't help but be captivated by the figure's grace and finesse. At least he knew one thing for certain, he didn't want to make that his enemy. 

Garen took the figure's lead, stalking wayward men and quickly ending them. The first one that he targeted had no idea what happened as  he plunged Gwynt through the man's throat. The second was lucky enough to see him but not quick enough to avoid decapitation. Finally he found a man wearing bone armor and wielding a spear. Garen silently drew up to his back, thrusting Gwynt right at the man's throat. The man turned in time to block his attack, the two locked eyes as their weapons clattered off the other. "Well, you like a leader of some form, care to dance?" A challenge as Garen held his blade up to block any counterattacks from his opponent.