
Tzank had followed the river north. For miles and miles it wound its way ever north. The pull on his mind ever urging him on. He had lost all sense of what day it was. His mind felt numb, cold like his body. Snow lay heavy on the ground and he was cold. Many times he had tried to conjure the flames he had done before but just as he felt the heat rise within him he felt as though the energy was blocked to him. So he continued on. Cold, alone.
Ahead he saw for the first time in what felt like an eon the faint traces of civilization. Smoke rose high in to the air from a myriad of farmsteads. A town built upon the mouth of an estuary. Finally this river had an end and it had people, shelter and food.
He entered the first inn he laid his eyes on. The Trolls Head, its name no doubt taken from the large skull nailed above the bar. Upon seeing a large open fire Tzank hurried over to try and warm his numb extremities.
The patrons eyed him and remained quiet. It was then he felt eyes all upon him. "They know". The voice actually made him jump so close it was to him. He turned round to see who had spoke but there was no one near. "They know what you did." Again he quickly turned.
"You alright stranger?" This time the voice was from behind the bar. A gentalman in his 40's was pouring drinks. "Names Arle. Welcome to the Trolls 'Ed. Can I get you something?"