Shortly after receiving his invitation, The Storyteller had packed up his few belongings and had left his Aetherion refuge for High Council Hill. The High Elves apparently wanted his take on an important matter they were facing, and (Despite what happened the last time he made an appearance at High Council Hill.) The Storyteller had no intention of ignoring their call. Especially if he had a chance to regale the 3 most powerful elves in the land with some of his many tales and maybe even discover a few new additions to his storybook.

As he approached 1 of the gates to High Council Hill, The Storyteller noticed the gatekeeper's eyes widen with shock when he caught sight of who he was about to let in. The Storyteller wasn't all that surprised. After what happened during his last visit, The Storyteller became synonymous with all the events that had transpired that day, from the amusing to the troublesome. Despite all of this, when The Storyteller asked for the gates to open, the gates opened just like they did for every other visitor that came through them.

As he made his way up the hill, The Storyteller chuckled at all the looks he was getting from those he passed by. Usually, the looks he got were ones of amazement at the fact that they were meeting The Storyteller in the flesh, or ones of curiosity directed at the one-eyed stranger who was spinning a most entertaining yarn for the enjoyment of those around him. But at High Council Hill, all the looks he got were once that silently said "I remember you!" or "Oh no, not again!" among other things.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, The Storyteller quickly spotted Arandur directing the servants in their preparations for the arrival of the champions. "I see you 3 plan on giving these champions of yours a warm welcome to the hill" The Storyteller said as he drew level with Arandur "And if Sadron is piling on the charm this high, the task you have in store for these champions isn't going to be an easy 1".