The figure moved through the trees. I was tall, all dressed in a heavy, black cloak. The heavy hood covered its face from the heavy rain surrounding it. The figure stopped at a clearing in the woods. Beyond the clearing, rested a small, peaceful village. Thin stubs of smoke curled out of the chimneys before they disappeared in the torrents of rain. The figure bend down and examined the muddy ground, carefully, looking for something. Seeming to find it the figure looked up at the village... --------- Jarold Barnswagger, Innkeeper of the Ale f All, looked up at his guests. The small Inn's fire was burning brightly, illuminating the couple tables at the Inn. Ale f All was always busy when it rained out. BANG! Jarold's head snapped to the door as a figure walked in: tall and black, dressed in a heavy hood. The figure turned to the Innkeeper and pulled back his hood, revealing a strong face of a man with a neatly trimmed black beard. "I am Warder, Rekc'Art," he said quietly. But everyone in the Inn gasped. Rekc'Art were legendary, warrior-mages, their lives dedicated to tracking down powerful magic beasts. Most viewed them as magic beasts themselves. Whenever a Rekc'Art was around, a magic beast was somewhere lurking nearby.

"Wha-what can I do for you, Mr. Warder?" inquired Jarold with a shake in his voice. "Ale." "Yes, sir." The Rekc'Art drank his ale, paid the Innkeeper with an Ardanian Gold Crown (proving that he was no from the area for Ardanian Gold Crowns are only used in the North Lands), and walked out without another word. Jarold gulped, sighed, and then said, "Let me tell you, boys: I'd hate to be the beast that guy is tracking!"