An afternoon rainstorm pelted the ground like a blacksmith finishing his last orders of the day. The thunder boomed across the rolling hills as lightning touched down in the distance. If one could see through the storming clouds they would see the sun retreating below the horizon, giving new dawn to a far off land. A lone figure stood beneath a tree beside his equine companion. His fur raincoat drenched with rainwater and his boots red with mud. A large covered item was slung around his shoulder, resting on his back. He watched as the saturated earth beneath him gave way to the constant onslaught of the rain, forming small streams that culminated into great big puddles.

Behind him, to the north, stood Valuun Keep. It was as menacing and ominous as the day it was built. The ash-gray stone walls and towering spires reminded all who passed by that the large fortress was a place of danger. The mad general Valrund had ordered his slave army to construct the great keep centuries ago, but after its completion every single one of them disappeared without a trace. All who venture near seemingly disappear without warning, leading many to believe it is haunted. There are rumors and tales that it was built above a cave opening leading to the fabled Under Deep, the deepest and darkest depths of the world. Most of the exterior walls were cracked and ruined, but the interior wall still stood firmly against the test of time. Only seventeen of its once twenty towers remained standing, stripped of Valrund's banners and watching the countryside. The fallen iron gate no longer posed as a barrier, but the sheer mystery of the keep proved to be a stronger barrier against would-be adventurers.

In front of the man, just south of the keep, sat Night-Raven Inn. Why anyone would build an inn to a bleak and forbidden fortress was beyond him, but it become a staple to the Heartlands. It was built atop a high hill overlooking the surrounding countryside. The stone base kept in firmly in place, and while the old wooden frame creaked and groaned against the wind, the strong gray stone walls were able to keep the currents at bay. It too had stood the test of time. It was two-stories high; the first floor was a large room to eat and drink, while the second floor was for sleeping quarters. Below the inn, hidden from view as usual, was the cellar. The figure hopped back up onto his steed and trotted off in the direction of the inn.

The inn faced northwest, in the direction of the Longroad - a widely used highway connecting the six great cities of the Heartlands. A stable was positioned to the right side of the path leading to the entrance, just before you approached the doors. The man slid off his and hitched him to one of the old pieces of wood within the stable. The horse rejoiced to be out the rain, letting out a neighing 'greetings' to the other horses. The inn was 

As he approached the two wooden doors he could smell roasted meat emanating from inside. The heat seemed to embraced him, taking hold of his movement and pulling him inside. He pushed the doors open and was greeted to a well-lit room. In the center was a fire-pit; a nice plump pig was roasting over the fire, filling the inn with a relaxing aroma. There were men and women gathered around tables throughout the inn, talking and laughing and having a good time. Outside of the glass windows they could see the storm was not letting up, and so figured they should make the best of what little time they had left for the day.

On the left side of a room was a long wooden bar with a man washing out some mugs behind it. "Hello," he yelled, "can I get'cha anythin'?" The man removed his raincoat - careful to keep the covered item on his back - and hug it on a rack just beside the door. "Got some ale, some roast' swine in a bit to if ye want. Name's Klomik."

"Some ale will be fine. I ate earlier, so no pork," replied the stranger, pulling out some coin from a pouch. The pouch was heavy with coin, filled to the brim, and it caught the eye of some undesirables at one of the tables. The innkeeper turned to fix the man a mug of ale and passed it to him. "You can call me Joric, by the way," the man told him.

At that moment the man felt a pair of hands slap down on his shoulders. Leaning in, someone whispered "I like that pouch you got there," Joric quickly shrugged the hands off, stood up and turned to face the man. A group of four men circled the newcomer, all of them bald with a tattoo of a black sun on their head. "Take it easy friend, just a bit of coin is all we want."

Joric looked behind him at the innkeeper who seemed to be ignoring the situation. Tension filled the air as others looked upon the stand-off. Joric slowly walked forward to the man who spoke, looking him in the eyes, "what for?"

The bald man smiled and glanced at his comrades. "Cause that's the way it's gonna be... [i]friend[/i]."

"No... this is the way it's gonna be, [i]friend[/i]: you're gonna turn around and sit back down... or somebody's gonna end up on the floor." A few moments of tension filled the air in the quiet inn. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

"I reckon someone's gonna be on the floor," replied the bald man. He drew a dagger, but Joric slammed his fist into his gut, sending the man reeling back. The other three men descended onto Joric, but his strength proved inhuman. One by one he pulled the men off and sent them flying back with impressive strength. The man with the dagger swiped close to his face, but Joric grabbed his arm and broke it at the elbow. He yelled in pain and dropped the dagger. As he fell to his knees, Joric grabbed his head and kneed him in the face. The other three men had recovered by then, so Joric dove for the dagger. He quickly rolled over onto his back, slamming his fist into an oncoming opponent. Then another man attempted to move in for the grapple, but Joric's heavy boot sent him stumbling back. Getting to his feet, Joric dodged another punched, grabbed the man's head, and slammed it down on the wooden bar. Using his impressive strength, Joric turned and backhanded another man, sending him tumbling over a set of chairs. He took the dagger and threw it at the last man's foot, stabbing him and causing him to cry out in pain.

Stunned and impressed at the same time, everyone looked upon the man. "Sorry," he said as he looked at the inkeeper. "I uh... I'll take one of those rooms now... I'll pay for everything come morning, on my word."

The innkeeper nodded and pointed to the stairs, "of course," he said, stunned. Joric nodded and walked off to the stairs, up to his room, and got ready to sleep.