I had met a beggar on the road to Gemclod. He asked me a question, and I answered with my sword. The question still haunts me.
"Who are you?", he had asked.
It had the disguise of being simple. I knew it was not. He had known. I made 7 camps on my way to Gemclod, in 7 different towns. They had all known. What choice did I have?
The High Elves have the knowledge. They read the books. They knew, and they would have tried to stop me. I cannot have that.
I do not know who I am. But I do know my purpose. It rests in Gemclod. The journey has taken me 9 days, but I have arrived.
A fast-flowing brook threatens to wash the road away. Corpses line the gatehouse, those of strange bird-like creatures, unicorns, and more than a few high elves.
It is time.