Suddenly a dull thump emanating from behind him startled him. He reached for his sword while springing to his feet, turning to face the perceived threat. But the sword was fix to its scabbard solid. As he turned he found a peculiar looking character, whose appearance seemed somehow familiar. He was clothed in a long dark weather-beaten hooded robe tattered by the ground it drug upon, wrapped him entirely except for the tired wrinkled face lightened dimly by the flames of the small fire.
"You called, Fathorn?" exclaimed the old one. Fathorn, still struggling with his sword, answered him in a dissenting tone as he relaxed his grip from the hilt, "I did not call out and if I would have, it would not to summon a beggar such as you!" The old man casually strolled to the fire, sitting on the log Fathorn had been resting on before the unexpected entrance. "A fine looking rabbit you have there." the old man said as he ripped a leg off and took a bite, "You do know that you will need more than hunting skills to accomplish the task at hand."
In case you are wondering, I started the story in my journal and moved it here. Just look below!
Chapter 1; The More The Marrier.
(To be moved here soon!)