Flight of the Gryphonclaw Brigade
Part 2: The Weary Traveler
A while later Lozordo wandered into Darkshire. He looked about its dreary buildings and it's dried up well and the few remaining townsfolk going about their business. Few people here held normal everyday jobs; most of the townsfolk were placed on night watch duty because of the harshness of the woods around them. In these woods the dead did not sleep, and every night it was possible that one's loved one who died the previous night, would come back and attempt to slay the survivors of their past lives. This was why Lozordo loved this place, not only because it was his last true home before he was orphaned, but because of the strength that these people find in each other. Families and neighbors look out for one another. Lozordo could just imagine late at night the families huddled together by a candle light, children clinging to their mothers, their fathers reading them stories of past war heroes to keep their minds off the hardships around them, and to give them hope. Hope...that someone would come to save them from the worgen and the undead that infested this place.
Lozordo walked into the nearby tavern; there were only a few people inside at this time of day, mostly other travelers stopping for a bite to eat before they set out again. Lozordo walked in and sat down at a table in the corner, moments later the bar maid, an older woman probably in her mid-thirties walked up to him to see what he wanted.
"What would you like stranger?" she asked. There was a tone in her voice, almost of despair, as if her spirit had been broken by this place. She brushed her thinning and graying hair away from her face.
"Just give me some cooked meat, some bread, and a mug of ale." he replied.
After a while the bar maid returned with his order...
"So where are you heading to?" She asked, "Not many people who stop in here intend to stay in a dreary place such as this."
"If you must know..." replied Lozordo, "I am in fact planning on staying here and lending a hand, it's been a while since I've returned."
"You're from here!" she exclaimed, rather shocked to hear this.
"Born but not raised...I've not been here since I was a boy, and not exactly from here in Darkshire. I'm originally from Raven Hill, before it was razed by The Scourge of course."
The bar maid examined him closely, a little too close for Lozordo's taste. She noticed all the gear he carried with him, more weapons than provisions. She looked at his arms, rugged and solid, every muscle toned and twitching in movement, as if he was ready for a fiend to jump out at every moment. He was of average height but was as solid as a rock and looked near unmovable. His brown hair was shaggy and a little unkept, probably mostly from being on the road a lot, she also noticed his goatee, showing he wasn't quite a full grown man yet for the lack of a full beard. What really caught her eye were his eyes, though he had a constant look of seriousness on his face, his eyes were a soft and lively vivid blue, full of energy. It was then she noticed that he was staring right back at her with those eyes, he caught her looking. She quickly glanced away at his huge sword leaning against the wall, she would have to use all her strength to move it, yet this man could swing it at a foe with speed that was near inhuman. Under his cloak he saw the hilts of his two short swords, and then her sight was caught by the crossbow sitting on the chair next to him.
"Can he be real?" she wondered, "he's someone you'd only hear of in stories...this man, it's as if all he has ever experienced were hardships and battles, I wonder if he very well could turn this town around, and all could be as it was before The Scourge..."
"HEY!" He exclaimed, snapping her out of her daydream. "Could I get some more ale please?"
"Oh..." she stuttered composing herself and returning to her stern, weathered composure "I'm sorry...yes right away..." She hurried off to fetch his ale.
