Wood splinters as you tumble through the door and out into the snow. As the cold barrages your skin, you draw your sword from its scabbard. Coming to bear with your assailant, you dodge a dagger aimed for your eye, and jab at the shadowy figure. In a sickeningly satisfying sound, you push your chilled blade deeper into the figure's chest. In agony, he gurgles, his final breath escaping in a cloud of cold air. You withdraw your blade, and stand, wiping the blood from your sword. Sighing, you move back into the tavern. As you resume your seat at the bar, the keeper stares as though spellbound. Silencing him with a glare, you sip from your frothy goblet, and muse on the events of the 20th of Sun's Dusk.