Epilogue

Brand Rumslow, innkeeper of the Driven Snow, had seen better days. Not many people came to Ensteig around this time of year. Too cold, was the excuse. The idea made him snort. Since when was it not cold in Ensteig? Just too many superstitious adventurers out there too scared to face a little snowstorm to get a decent tankard of grog.

It was therefore to both Rumslow's surprise and joy that a stranger came into the Snow that night just before the blizzard outside began to fully take hold.

'Welcome, friend!' the heavyset innkeeper said cheerily. 'Name your poison!'

'Anything,' rasped the man, 'I'm too thirsty to care…'

Rumslow was not a dishonest man, and instantly got the stranger the cheapest of his ales. To look at him, the newcomer could not afford much else. He looked as though he had walked for days without food, and his clothes could have kept the local tailor busy for a week. Rumslow was not about to overcharge a man down on his luck.

The stranger gulped down the ale gratefully. 'Thank you,' he said.

'No problem,' said the innkeeper. 'Refill is on the house,' he added, filling up a new tankard.

'That won't be a problem,' the man said, placing a few gold coins on the counter.

Rumslow inspected the coins closely. 'Easterner's gold, that. You from Lut Gholein? You don't look the Eastern type.'

'No, no I'm not,' he replied. 'At least, I don't think so…'

Rumslow peered at the stranger. 'You seem a bit lost, friend. You at least got a name?'

The stranger looked down at the tankard, thinking hard. From under a mountain of guilt and deep ball of hatred for something called "Viz-Jaq'taar", he unearthed a name.

'Beck. My name is Beck.'


Author's Note: That's it, finished! These last couple of chapters were a long time coming, I know; my apologies to everyone (anyone?) who was waiting for them. Just want to say thanks to everyone who gave their opinions and encouragement. I had fun with this story and if a sequel presents itself, who knows? Cheers!