[i][u]-Selwyn-[/u][/i]

The moon rode high in the sky, as clouds blotted out the stars. A storm was coming, bringing darkness in it's train. A fitting coming, thought the elven maiden. Her form hidden by a thick cloak as the midnight mare she rode. For the storm that the Necromancer had brought with his return a few short years earlier had given her many a opportunity. Her own army she had kept to the North and bide her time. Now with scattered bands of Orcs and roving bands of men, she could hunt them down to join or die by her blade. A harsh reality but a needed one. Her Master would rise once more, and if it took spilling blood. She would bath the very world in it. 

The light from a tavern before her flickered as the noise within grew louder. One of the patrons had left, stumbling along home with two fellows. The elf grimaced, the singing was atrocious. Dismounting she let the reins fall the ground unworried someone would take the battle trained mare. Circling about the pub she noticed a side door towards the stables, a young lad pushed through it to get back to his care of the guest's horses. Seeing no sign of smoke, nor the squawking a kitchen staff produced at the busy hour, she slipped through to a cramped hallway. To the rented rooms, she noted making her own way to the bountiful noise and taking a unoccupied and shadowy table. To any one who looked she was simply one of the many roaming folk, perhaps a ranger even. She did not come here for the 'merriment' or the 'prized food'. She came here to hear what would be said. And she was not disappointed...

[u][i]-Darcyn-[/i][/u]

"An'! An' I says to the Orc-" The very prideful and boastful voice of Darcyn Telcontar was loud over the others. "Wot life? Yer just a dog ain't ya! A rabid one if I seys so!" Several others nodded in agreement, as the Orc Hunter puffed out his chest. "An' he starts pleadin' offerin' me 'is wealth-! On'y he ain't got any!" The story went on, and the men laughed and congratulated Darcyn on his hunts. Standing the man, declared his need for more ale, and getting a direct no. Staggering to the bar, the man banged his tankard. "More Ale-keep! A mun's got a thirst!" Once more denied his returned to grumble with his poor mood. First he lost his band of hunters, now he was refused ale! T'was a crime! His mood simply blackened as the night wore on.