The Druid's Story

 May your soul soar with the Phoenix

Krieg took another gulp of his ale. This tavern was beginning to look better and better, with each passing pint of ale. Can't say too much for the patrons, however. All were the same rough-cut peasant folk that one would expect to find in this region, most of them farm hands or miners taking in a hot meal before heading home for the night. Very few women to flirt with, all ugly, although they certainly seemed to grow more attractive as the hours went by.

The poor weather wasn't slowing business any - been storming all evening - but the claps of thunder couldn't drown out the shouts of merriment from the dicers and other gamblers in every corner of the torch-lit common room. Krieg was content to stay aloof from the activity, perferring instead to sit at the bar and nurse a few pints of thier finest ale. In fact, Krieg was quite a connesiuer of ale; four empty bottles lay strewn around his space, with another rolling around the floor near his stool.

Few people glanced up when the front door opened, and a cloaked figure marched in. Despite the pouring rain, the figure did not take off the sodden hood and cloak even after reaching the bar, where the figure sat, waiting for service while a large pool of rainwater condensed around the stool.

Perhaps it was the ale tickling his brain, but Krieg felt a curiosity building in him to find out who's in that hood.

"Say, stranger, may I buy you an ale?"

The hooded figure didn't budge. A small pool of rainwater was collecting on the bar as well.

Emboldened by it's silence, Krieg leaned precariously in his stool towards the figure.

"What's a matta, buddy? Ya don't like my hospitality?" Krieg grinned, revealing an awesome assortment of decaying teeth.

The hooded figure turned ever so slowly towards Krieg, who was still unable to get a glance at it's face through the shadows of the hood. It spoke in a low voice: "What do you know of the events that transpired in Illhaven?"

Krieg was a bit surprised, the voice sounded just a bit high for a man. Krieg leaned even further towards the figure to verify his assumption while speaking, "Oh, 'tis nothing. A bunch of them damned meddlesome Druids got axed in the distant wood east of there, some three nights ago." Krieg paused to belch, then continued. "If ye ask me, whoever it 'twas wasn't human; no army could take on all them Druids at once in thier own Temple without leaving more than a few of thier own dead behind. It's of no consequence to me; kill 'em all, it'd do everyone a favor." By this time, Krieg was close enough to reach out, and so he did.

As he reached to move the hood out of the way, the figure's hand snapped out like a whip, and twisted Krieg's arm down and away in a very painful contortion. On the exposed hand was a tattoed bird; a Phoenix. Krieg looked back at the figure in terror.

"Aie, you be a Druid yerself - I - I'm sorry for saying those things about your kind, " Krieg gasped as the Druid bent his arm near breaking, and with a toss of the head, freed herself from the hood. It was a woman alright; short brown hair and large-eyed, she'd be pretty if her face wasn't twisted with rage.

"I do mean to track the killer myself - human or not. You would be well advised to pray, heathen, for if the killer gets the Egg of the Phoenix, and it hatches while in control of the killer, Life will forever suffer!" With that, she tossed Krieg to the floor and went back out into the storm, only pausing at the door to flip the hood back over her head. The patrons in the common room eyed her warily for a moment, before returning to thier games.