Welcome to the beginning of a hopefully long and enjoyable story.
The light grew dark in the inn as the day faded to night and the storm grew fierce. The noise of carousing grew louder and louder as the mugs of brew were drained. Fights began and finished; losers were dragged out into the storm. One of these such fights moved close to the dark, solitary cloaked figure in the middle of the room. The bigger of the two combatents hurled the other into the table, knocking it over and spilling the cloaked man's food along with it. All talk in the room suddenly stopped when the regulars saw what had happened. The cloaked man stood and turned slowly towards the two men saying, "I was hoping that some ignorant fools would bother me tonight, its been a bad day." Their quarrel forgotten momentarily in this new challenge, the two men pulled knives and advanced upon the man in the cloak. He laughed and let them come. They circled around the man, and the smaller one lunged at him from behind, intending to catch him off guard. The cloaked man moved so fast it was almost a blur, reaching back and siezing the small man's arm, twisting it back until he heard the bones snap and taking the knife and spinning, throwing it whirling into the larger man's knee spraying blood on the floor. "Now," the cloaked man said as he kicked them away from him, "that you idiots are suffeciently injured, I will tell you just who you bothered. I have many names, but you may call me Ragnar, oh and I suggest that you go get your arm and your leg patched up and then learn to fight," Ragnar said. The expressions on the men's faces turned from anger to sheer terror as they stumbled over each other to escape the inn. "Bwa hah hah hah, beautifully done," cried a deep voice, "you are just the man I need." "And just who might this be that has a need of me so great?" asked Ragnar. "I, am Boswic, but you can call me Swic, just Swic, nobody calls me Boswic," Swic said. "Very well....Boswic, what is it you wish to hire me for?" Ragnar asked. Swic grimaced and said, "That slight will pass this time, now, what I need is a man like you to end the threat of an army of bandits on my land. If the leader is killed, the army will fall apart and i will no longer need to constantly kill brigands on my own property." "What, by chance, would the leader's name be?" asked Ragnar. "He calls himself, The GnomeGeneral," Swic stated. Suddenly a man sitting at the corner table jerked, gurgled something out and fell over in a pool of his own blood. "What the-!?" Swic exclaimed.
"It seems time for me to leave," Ragnar said. Then he turned and walked out the door as hysterics began over the newly dead patron of the inn.
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