Dawn broke over the city Aloveth on a crisp spring morning in the land of Lothlyde. The loose confederation of city-states, and private land owners was nestled in the forested highlands of the north, and rarely got to enjoy early spring thaws. So, it was no surprise that most people rose with the sun to try and make the best of the extra time they had been given before winter began creeping in again. One resident, however, was in no hurry to greet the day. Lazarus Runefang, wanted nothing more that to be left alone to sleep; after the week he'd had, he felt he deserved it. Lazarus was a mercenary by trade, and one of the best at that. Brought up in the Runefang brotherhood, one of the most professional, some would say ruthless, fighters guilds in the land, he rarely had trouble finding lucrative work. So, when a merchant had offered Lazarus a hundred gold coins to escort him through a forest, he figured it was just an old man with more money than brains seeking peace of mind. It wasn't until halfway through the trip that they ended up having to make a detour through a section of forest known as the troll woods. By the time they got out of the forest, Lazarus had vowed never to enter a place with the word troll in the name ever again. He had collected his pay without a word and proceeded to rent out a room at the first decent inn he came across for a solid month.
Now, as he was finally on the verge of a full recovery, he was roused from sleep by a gentle rapping on his door.
Now, as he was finally on the verge of a full recovery, he was roused from sleep by a gentle rapping on his door.