A Land Far Away

Over the last few weeks the sentries along the Argent Road had become used to the quiet woodsman. Usually sighted late at night carrying supplies for the Argent Legion or messages for the Vault of Sages, his journey back and forth had become no great event (although it was unusual to sight him at all). Not so this night. Like a cold wind through SilveryMoon Pass he flew, stealth abandoned. A low voiced warning and a flash of brown cloak was all for the guards at High Hold. Startled, torches and weapons raised, they glimpsed a figure speeding on to the west. Muttering of fools and less flattering terms, they turned their attention back to guarding the gate.

The guards at the gate to Rivermoot opened the gate to his quiet knock soon thereafter. Hood lowered that they might recognize him, Elmarhel hurried through the gate to the dock. Slipping the coins to the ticketmaster, he leapt aboard the ship to Balders Gate just as they cast off. Trouble was afoot and Kyrahd was needed....

None was at the dock to greet the return of the ship from Baldurs Gate. Nor did the hands take much note of Elmarhel as he left the ship, his hands with new seaman's callouses. He glanced at the gate to Rivermoot, thought of warm stew and a bed that didn't sway. Thought of it and turned away squaring his shoulders in determination and heading for the gate out to the argent road instead.

Had any been waiting they would have been disappointed for Elmarhel had returned alone.