Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

William Fredrickson
Human
Fighter/ Frenzied Berserker
Chaotic Neutral



History -

Originally from average merchant class family from the city of Luskan, William Fredrickson was kicked out of his home by his father for being “a no-good money draining leech” in his late teens. In all honesty, he probably was exactly how his father described him.

Without any other real options and relatively few acquaintances, William signed up for the Luskan army, mainly to just get enough to eat. However, despite his initially bleak expectations, William flourished in the army, quickly moving up from the ranks to become a lower-ranking officer. His success was short lived though, for his greed quickly got the better of him. William began to steal funds from the army paychests, and his scheme was uncovered by fellow soldiers who threatened to expose him if he didn’t pay them compensation.

Rather than be blackmailed, William deserted the army and fled the city, heading quickly southward with a stolen horse and a small fortune of stolen gold in search of a new place to start up his life again. His hopes rested on a place that would be far away from his blackmailers and the Luskan army. During his rapid travels, William ended up losing the horse and a practically all the gold.

After several months, and down to his last few coins, William reached the city of Baldur’s Gate. Out of money and down on his luck, William is now looking for work and a new start.

Traits -

A man that has never done anything particularly heroic and a man that many would easily call a coward. Though in his own words he views his occasional cowardice as the “protection of his self-preservation.” He highly prides himself on his ability to run for long distances very quickly when chased by monstrous foes.

William is a tall man, well built, and handy with his chosen weapon, a large falchion. In no way efficient at swordsmanship, William prefers to use his brute strength to bludgeon his enemies down. He fights well when the odds are in his favor, but when the tide starts to turn against him, he won’t hesitate to flee. When backed into a corner with no way out in sight, he has been known to be ferocious; much like a corned rat can become.

In his youth he was somewhat of a bully, and currently he tries to hide that trait, but being the general braggart he is it will tend to surface whenever he has the upper hand in a situation. He can be pleasant when he chooses though, and likes to joke. In front of any large group of people he’ll try to put on the face of a nobler, braver, and more well-mannered person than he really is.

Now however, after spending a few years in Baldur's Gate, William has changed greatly. No longer is he tempted to run in a fight... after joining the Weave Masters and working through the ranks until he was promoted to Weave Captain, William is one of the bravest men in the city, and is a well respected figure in the guild. Many Guardians serve under him, and he supports the Weave Masters with all of his heart. He has come to deeply trust Nahum, Lyra, and Elias, as well as the other members of the guild.

Recently, Captain William has returned from a long an dangerous journey with Exarch Nahum in the North, centering around a mysterious magical artifact in the Exarch's possession. While William won't talk about the details of the mission with many, it is known that much of it occured in Luskan. Since returning, William seems a bit gruffer and more morose than he usually is. It also seems that he has developed a noticeable limp in his left leg that doesn't seem to be able to be healed through magical means...

William sat alone in a shadowed corner of the Elfsong, nothing to accompany him except a plate of bread and cheese, and a large tankard of Firewall Stout. The last patrons had left hours ago, some of them giving William curious glances. A white cloak lay crumpled on the table next to him. He glanced at the cloak occasionally with a guilty look in his eye.

He silently picked at the bread, tearing off a few of bits and dropping them into this tankard. The pieces floated like tiny ships, only to slowly sink and disappear. Disappearing was precisely what William was thinking of doing.

“Gods, what have I gotten myself into?” he muttered aloud, starring into his tankard. A barmaid who had been sweeping the floor looked over to William, but when he said nothing more she shrugged and continued sweeping.

William sighed and took a long drink of the stout, letting the soothing and slightly spicy liquid flood down his throat. When he finished, he set the tankard down unsteadily, causing a bit of the brew to splash across the roughly finished surface of the table.

“How can I do this?” he thought to himself. “Assault that Thayan Stronghold? That’s suicide, damn it!” He held a hand to his brow. "Why did I have to write that damned letter?"

Cutting a slice of cheese with a knife haphazardly as he thought, William recalled the past few months… his flight from Luskan, arriving at the Gate, getting his footing with simple mercenary work…

With a shudder he recalled the darker memories, and he downed another gulp of stout to fight off the dreaded recollections. The demon and that accursed black skull… that bastard dwarf Grundin trying to kill him… an entire bloody gnoll army trying to kill him and holding up in that fortress… “I’ve come close to death so many times…”

His beverage swirled darkly in its tankard before him. As he gazed into its depths, he recalled a particularly horrible memory. The Cloakwood… nightfall… There was that monk, and the tiefling… the Fist soldier, or whoever he really was. The skeletons and the vampire… that armored man and his strange veiled threats. The name Baladar… And then that horrible, horrible feeling… he had run. Run! William shook his head. “Perfectly acceptable thing to do, right?” he reasoned. “I would have been ripped apart otherwise… they were…” He had come back to the woods, to witness a scene of carnage... both of his companions, savagely beaten, bloodied, and quite dead. "If that cleric hadn’t come along… "

His recent acceptance into the Weave Guardians as a Defender dominated his mind. His chat with Exarch Nahum… He had known of the man Baladar as well… the conversation with the spellcaster had sparked the dreaded memories William had tried to suppress. What was to stop him from running away from the assault on the Thayans if things got bad? He had run from many fearful encounters… his cowardice had gotten the best of him… “Thank the gods no one knows who I really am. How I really act…” William thought sullenly.


He watched the barmaid carry a stack of dishes into the kitchen, nearly dropping several of them. It was getting late, in fact, so late that it was almost early. William didn’t feel tired.

As he took a bite of the cheese that now seemed devoid of any taste, he rubbed his head slowly. “Surely there must be some good memories too?” He wracked his mind and thought… There was Sheritomo, journeying with her to Beregost with that bard to deliver minotaur horns, and later conversations with her on the road… there was that wizard with the rabbit who laughed at my hat… that little Halfling that accused me of being a murderer and later turned out to not be so bad of a fellow… playing dice with the Flaming Fist soldiers and winning their pay… hunting deer out in the woods with that ranger…

William couldn’t help but smile at those memories. Suddenly, he slammed his fist against the table top, causing the plate of bread to clatter. There had been good times! Plenty them! “What the bloody hell am I doing here sulking!” he shouted aloud.

“Beats me,” shouted the barmaid from the kitchen.

With a grin on his face, William pushed his chair away and rose from the table and snatched up the white cloak. “This is my chance!” he thought. “I can turn everything around! I don’t have to be a coward. I don’t…”

It was all so simple to him. He would not run tomorrow. He would fight. He had a name to make here in the South. He could erase everything tomorrow. Start over. The Weave Guardian was a grand opportunity. This organization could lead him to great things! Friends, safety, wealth, power, rank, respect… He could do this. It would start tomorrow.

“Not to mention,” he thought slyly, “these Weave Masters could protect me from those damned Luskan dogs if they ever come looking for the money I stole from them…”

William left the Elfsong, more determined and hopeful than he had ever been in his life. As he put on his new white Weave Guardian cloak, he breathed in the crisp night air. William smiled. “I better equip myself for tomorrow.”

William headed off to purchase supplies.

Following the epic battle against the Thayans that ravaged the countryside, William Fredrickson found himself encamped in the old ruins south of the Gate that were now inhabited by Kobolds. It was a calm and peaceful day, and the sun shined merrily in the sky as little songbirds floated about the air. The weather was warm and comforting and it looked like a great day to just relax.



After setting up his tent and managing to light a small campfire, William leaned against a fallen column, relaxing his tired muscles. What a battle! William thought to himself as he rested. Gods, that was a long fight…

From the gatehouse of Baldur’s Gate to just a few miles away from the Thayan enclave, there had been almost nonstop fighting. William rubbed his aching sword arm. He had killed dozens of goblins, gnolls and knights that day, along with a few mages. I hope I made the Weave Masters proud.

The battle had been utter chaos the entire time, and now a hearty meal and a good sleep was looking like a very fine idea for William. He pulled his pack towards him, and began rummaging around in it for a hunk of bread. Suddenly, a cold chuckle broke the silence of the serene tranquility of the day.

William was on his feet in an instant. The ruins seemed quite all around him, yet there was a dark feeling in the air… Abruptly, a black cloud fell upon the clearing in the middle of the ruins, and the cold chuckle broke the silence again.

William drew his sword slowly, gaining comfort from holding the familiar heavy blade. “Who’s there!” he called out.

“Hello, mortal.” The darkness vanished with the words, and in its place, a pale woman with jet black hair stood, grinning.

Sword ready, William studied the strange creature. Her skin was deathly white, her eyes red… the sight of the creature put his mind back to that one night in the Cloakwood… a word imprinted itself on his mind. Vampire. “Who the devil are you?” William asked, glaring at the woman.

In a voice that sounded like ice, the undead creature spoke again. “I’m a messenger…” It smiled at him and William held back a shudder. “I bare a message from my master… to you…”

At the mention of a master, William held his sword tighter and peered about the ruins. “Well then, what’s the bloody message, eh?”

“I understand you’ve joined the Weave Masters.”

William nodded hesitantly. “Yes, that’s right…” What could that possibly have to do with anything, he thought at the same time. He looked at the creature, a bit confused. “But what’s that to you? Or your... Master...”

The vampire considered him. “Oh… well, your Weave Masters greatly upset my master’s plans…” She gave him another dark chuckle. “I think you know him already.”

William glanced towards the road and raised an eyebrow. “I do?”

“Indeed,” continued the vampire. “You’ve met him several times…”

As they spoke, the sun began setting. William watched the creature with growing nervousness. “Who… who is your master then?”



“Oh. He is the one who controls that which sits around us right now…” The vampire’s eyes moved over the ruins as she spoke.
William licked his dry lips. “Does he? Well, what does he want?”

She grinned evilly at him. “Well… you should have stayed away from the Weave Masters… now you are on his death list too.”

William took a slow step backwards, a sense of dread building in him.

“Death list?”

The vampire nodded, smiling. “He is one with the shadow…”

William glanced towards the road, and then at the undead creature. “…shadow?”

“You must understand… you can run, but you cannot hide from him,” she chuckled.

William narrowed his eyes at the creature. So, it’s going to come down to a fight then, he thought.

The vampire almost seemed to sense his mind’s thoughts. “But enough of this… I have a task and I’m about to finish it” she stated simply.

William starred at the undead woman, thinking. You just fought a battle against an entire army… you can take down one undead witch! Steady, William!

“Just try it, you fiend!” he growled.

The vampire laughed, and dashed towards him.

William took a defense posture, waiting for the creature to come towards him. For a moment, his mind was clouded, and fear threatened to overwhelm him, but he shook those negative thoughts away. With a shout, he swung his blade at the creature.

She dodged the strike with unnatural quickness, swiping at William with razor sharp claws. Luckily, his armor deflected the blows, but deep marks were left starkly in the steel. William grunted, and began to swing more savagely, determined to end the fight quickly.

A series of fast and heavy blows cut into the vampire, and she shrieked in anger. With a scream she hurled herself at William, but he took a quick step back, dodging the attack. As she flung herself past him, he made a particularly vicious blow, loping off the fiend’s head in one swift stroke. The creature was suddenly silent as the head fell to the grass with a wet thud. The now completely lifeless vampire remained standing for a moment, then crumpled to the ground as well.

William let out a deep sigh. Blackish blood dripped from his falchion, and a perspiration was cold against his brow. Glad that’s over.

But just as William had thought that, a sphere of darkness fell across the ruins again, and suddenly another undead creature lumbered out of the shadows. A heavily wrapped corpse, trailing a foul cloud of stench and flies staggered towards him. William raised his sword again, and grimacing against the rank odor struck down the creature quickly. Holding his nose from the smell, he stepped away from the corpse.

Just as he had backed away from the mummy, there was a rustling to his left as an elf clad in chain mail and holding a bow approached out of the brush. “Careful, stranger!” William called out. “There’s undead about!”

The elf arched an eyebrow, and then noticed the headless corpse of the vampire and the cloth wrapped mummy laying across the grass. But before another word could be said, a skeleton unexpectedly ran out of the ruins at William, who quickly turned to face it. As the elf watched, William deftly swung his sword at the skeleton, shattering its frail bones, and sending them scattering across the grass. As the skeleton fell, a strange shadowy creature launched itself from the cover of the ruins as well, charging at the two. William let out a curse. “Bloody hell!” Somehow, he managed to bring down the creature as well, slicing his sword through the shadow with a quick cut. It evaporated into the air before his eyes.

“By the grace of the Seldarine!” cried out the elf, as he scanned the area warily for more undead. William breathed heavily and looked around as well.

“I don’t see any more lurking about…” William said slowly. As he spoke, there was another rustling of grass. William and the elf turned to see an armored man approaching up the hill towards the ruins. “Who are you?”

The man, who was carrying a mace and wore a full helmet and cloak explained that he was an explorer and traveler. He seemed about the size of a human. The explorer stated that he was thinking of venturing into the ruins. William nodded and then proceeded to tell both the elf and the man what had just occurred.



After telling his tale to the two, both agreed that the area seemed rather dangerous at the moment, and the man suggested that William had better report what had happened to the Fist. William agreed, but thought to himself that he’d better tell the Weave Masters instead…

As the sun rose, William took his leave from the two travelers, and headed directly to the Weave Tower, to report about what had just happen.



/// I used some actual in game dialoge for that little story when I had it available. Thanks to Norol Canar for that little bit of RP. It was great fun! Hopefully after I tell the tale to the Weave Masters, it'll get you a step closer to the wanted list! =]

Every muscle, every bone, every fiber in his body seemed to ache. A cold wet numbness was spreading on his face, and wrenching together every possible piece of will that his soul possessed, William opened his eyes. Slick cavern walls rose up to fade away into a pitch-black darkness above him. The air was damp, thick, stifling. There was no wind to speak of… there was nothing but silence, which was only interrupted by an occasional droplet of water falling into an unseen pool from an unknown source…

Suddenly, William bolted upright into a sitting position. He groaned as he did so, blood rushing to his head. His eyes momentarily were blinded by the action, but his mind was moving as fast as lightning. By Mystra, what had happened?!

As he vision returned, William felt his forehead. The wetness he had felt was blood, and for the most part it seemed to have begun to coagulate. There was a large swell across his brow, and the slight touch of his fingers caused a sting that raced up and down his body. It felt as if he had been smacked with a mace…

Smacked with a mace, William thought slowly. Abruptly, the pieces fit together. Nahum! Chloe! Elias! The crypt! Keagan! A cold sweat broke out across his body as the realization finally sunk in. Dear gods… I’m in the Underdark!

Breathing deeply, trying to calm himself, William struggled to his feet and began to take stock of his surroundings. He could barely make out anything recognizable in the black haze, just the shadows of rough cavern walls… William reached down and felt the fingers of his left hand… the smooth metal band of his ring was still there…

Rubbing the enchanted ring slightly, a soft blue glow began to shine from it. William blinked several times at his surroundings slowly drifted into sight. He was in a large cavern, a huge chamber that even with the glow of his ring he couldn’t see the ceiling of… Several colossal mushrooms grew scattered about the edges of the cavern, emitting a soft white light… Did this place look familiar? He couldn’t be sure…

What in Faerûn had happened?

He wracked his mind, trying to remember as his body mechanically went through its instincts of survival. He tensed his muscles, felt for broken bones, checked his sword belt, felt relief as he touched the handleof his falchion in its sheath, found his pack lying near him, luckily intact. He was still wearing the black hood and face cloth to disguises his identity, and his armor was still stained black as well…

As he realized that he was still in fighting shape, albeit very sore, his mind began to call the events of the past few hours… or at least he hoped it was only hours…

A portal had appeared in the library of the Istari Tower… all available Weave Masters had been summoned… Chloe was there, and Exarch Nahum.. Elias.. Lilly.. Evithyan… two recent recruits as well, Samah, a warrior, and Baelryn, a mage.



On Nahum’s suggestion they had disguised themselves, to better sneak through the Underdark..



After they were fully garbed in hoods and black cloaks, they enchanted themselves to the fullest, and entered the portal with all haste. William had ordered some of his best Guardians along with the Towers’ golems to guard the portal and await their return… They couldn’t have missed such an opportunity…

William remembered the part of Drow awaiting them… Nahum had tried to trick them… persuade them that they were Genasi traders… but the Drow didn’t believe it… or maybe they had and they were just anxious for blood… regardless, a fight had started.

William had charged in, shouting a war cry and his sword swinging… he litteraly chopped the light longsword of one of the Drow warriors in half as he attacked with as much force and he could muster. Evithyan and Samah fought well together and protected William's flank from any counter attacks, moving their weapons as fast as they could. Nahum blasted away with magical energy, downing dozens of the dark elves, while Elias and Lilly burned down their enemies with fire and ice. Baelryn sent forth rays of lightning that sizzeled the drow with electricity and the very air seemed to be alive with all of the magic surging about the cavern.

Mystra seemed to be with them though, for when the steel stopped clashing and silence reigned over the battlefield, only the Weave Masters remained standing. The Drow had been slaughtered.

They had left the battered corpses of the defeated Drow behind… followed Chloe through a never-ending maze of tunnels… it had been an absolute labyrinth.. Strange bests plagued the dark caverns.. Creature’s William had never even heard of before… they had all been tense, anxious, nervous.

Eventually, they ran into another party of Drow… Nahum tried the same trick again… they believed it this time.



They had all breathed a giant sigh of relief as the Drow had left.

He vaguely remembered resting in a clear spot at the intersection of three tunnels… William, along with his two Guardians had kept watch… the mages recalled their spells… everyone was on edge the entire time…



And then there was the crypt. William remembered startling images. Ghouls.. Rotting flesh hanging from their bodies had attacked them… the smell had been foul, horrible… trap-laden hallways… walking mummified corpses… The had blasted the ghouls and zombies with powerful magic, slashed into them with cold steel… they fought as a unit, fighting for each other… fighting to find their former Captain… fighting to survive…



He remembered thrusting aside the heavy lids of tombs, searching for signs of Keagan.. Anything at all…

He remembered the vampires, ambushing them from deep inside the crypts, turning into hideous clouds of green mist when defeated…

He remembered a horde of undead, charging down a hallway at them, lead by a skeletal warrior in midnight black armor… William had traded blows with the knight of the dead, battered away at the creature’s sword, beheading it with a terrible blow from his falchion…

But that was near the limits of his memories… the last sight he had seen had been of the Exarch, lightning and fire blazing from his hands, disappearing beneath a legion of withering and flailing undead bodies… William recalled struggling towards him, shouldering enemies out of his way, trying to reach Nahum… he hazily recollected a lumbering armored skeleton heading his way, carrying a giant warmace… and then.. Nothing…

Snapping out of his memories, William gazed around the gigantic chamber once more. He held his left hand high in the air, trying to spread its soft blue light. There were several tunnels leading away from the chamber… But which one should he take? And how did he end up here? Where were the others? Panic threaten to overwhelm him…

Stay clam… stay calm. You can find your way out of this mess… Breathing deeply, he managed to steady his nerves. But what if none of them survived? He shook the thought out of his head. That wasn’t possible! They must have… don’t give up hope…

William gritted his teeth and hefted his sword. He had at least three days worth of rations in his pack, and dozens of healing potions. He reckoned he stood a fair chance of surviving… at least until he could find the others…

He wrapped his cloak tightly about himself, his mind swirling about… Mystra, Tymora… any god that is listening… help me!

He began looking rapidly around the cavern, looking for something, anything to help him, and as luck would have it, he happened to glance at the ground… There was a thick layer of dust on the cavern floor, and to William’s relief, several sets of footprints were visible… he crouched and began to study them… By Mytra, those must be ours! Ecstatically, he was able to pick out the marks that the mages' staffs had left in the ground.. He even was able to see his own boot marks… they must have came this way before they had entered the crypt!

Gripping his sword tightly, he began to follow the tracks…


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Two weeks later, battered, bleeding, wracked with hunger and nearly delirious, Captain William Fredrickson dragged himself out of a tiny opening in the side of a gigantic cliff face somewhere along the southern Sword Coast near the Cloud Peak Mountains. For the first time in what seemed like years, the warm sun shined across his face, and a breeze ruffled his hair.

As he pulled himself further away from the opening, his disturbing of the narrow fissure suddenly triggered a small rockslide, causing the narrow entrance to the Underdark to collapse. William was hardly even aware of the event however, for as he starred up at the blue sky his body finally gave up and lost consciousness. His breathing remained shallow, but he was breathing nonetheless.

A badge underneath William’s dented platemail, the badge of the Weave Captain, started to hum softly. Now that it was free of the Underdark’s magic scattering influence, it began to magically transmit William’s approximate location back to one of the many scrying orbs in the Istari Tower…

The air was so cold that with every expulsion of breath a cloud of mist would appear and swirl about before it was whisked away into oblivion by the harsh mountain wind. Captain William pulled his cloak tightly about himself and huddled up against the side of his horse for warmth. The horse, a large Waterdavean stallion, shivered and twitched as well.

William and his steed were alone in the mountain wilderness. He was somewhere high up in the Star Mountains, a range of craggy peaks south of the High Forest. A sealed package had arrived for him about a week ago at the Istari Tower in Baldur’s Gate, and William had left immediately after notifying the other heads of the guild of his journey. He had purchased one of the toughest horses he could find for the ride, for he knew that he would be traveling over some rough territory.

The sealed package had contained both a letter and a map. William had read the letter quickly in the privacy of his quarters, frowned at its contents, and then his face grew darker still as he studied the map.

The map, which was finely sketched and highly accurate, had marked the small cliff top clearing were William now stood. He could hardly imagine a more reclusive meeting spot. He had followed a narrow winding trail up through the pine-covered mountains, slipping on rocks and loose stones every step of the way. The constant wind biting into his flesh like a wild animal didn’t help much the climb much either. Eventually, he had reached the clearing, to find that it barely had enough room to set up a large tent. A second trail reached the clearing as well, winding up from the opposite side of the mountain. One edge of the clearing was backed by a sheer cliff that rose upwards to the mountain’s peak, while on the other side a precipice stood out over a colossal rock face, giving way to a breathtaking view of the valleys far below. The clearing was at the very edge of the tree line, and a step off the precipice would send one tumbling down far below to their death. William stood well away from the edge.

Rubbing his hands together for warmth, William glanced up at the sun to judge the time. It was almost directly above him, but its warmth barely had any affect up in these high mountains. He should be here soon, William thought to himself.

He moved his hand over the reassuring comfort of his sword pommel, but just as he did so, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as if electricity was in the air. William changed his grip and held onto the handle of his sword tightly as a brilliant flash of light momentarily blinded him. Blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them, William was surprised to see a grew robed man standing in the center of the clearing.

The figure leaned against a simple wooden staff, and a grey cowl covered his face. He in no way seemed as if he needed to lean on the staff, for William could perceive a powerful stance underneath the grey robes. He almost felt as if he detected a smile from the depths of the cowl.

“Good day to you, Captain William,” spoke the figure in a confident voice. William thought the man’s accent sounded Southen… from Amn, perhaps?

William straightened up and moved away from the side of his horse. He tried to match the man’s self-assured posture. “Salutations… Who do-”

The man suddenly cut him off. “Do you have the pleasure of addressing?” The man chuckled, but the laughter didn’t seem directly hostile. “No names, Captain. That is how we shall work with you, for now…”

William slowly studied the figure up and down, trying to discern any useful information.

“It is sufficient to say though, that I am a trusted member of a conclave of mages to the south of Baldur’s Gate, and our goals are… somewhat similar to those of the Weave Masters…”

“Oh really?”

The man seemed to smile again. “Indeed, Captain. And I feel that we have much to discuss… and propose, to the Weave Masters. My organization could be quite beneficial to your guild…”

“I’m listening…”

******

The two conversed until the sky began to glow red with the coming of the sunset. When their conversation finished, the two did not shake hands, but merely nodded at each other. The mage vanished in another flash of brilliant light, while William wearily mounted his horse and set off carefully down the narrow trail. He had a lot to inform the Weave Masters about. Taking a long drink from his canteen, he started his long journey back to the Weave Tower.

A lone horseman, cloaked in grey, slowly walked his horse under the northern entrance of Baldur’s Gate. The moon shone brightly above, illuminating puddles of rainwater amongst the cobblestones of the wide street with gleaming silver light. A pair of sentries, huddling by a flaming brazier and dressed in the scarlet uniforms of the Flaming Fist, watched the horseman quietly as he moved through the chill night.

It was evident from both the condition of horse and rider that the pair had come a long way. The horse was splattered with mud and muck, and tattered and torn saddlebags hung from either side of the steed. It’s head hung low as it walked, and its owner did little to encourage its pace.

The rider, leaning wearily forward over his saddle had a wide brimmed hat with a drooping feather pulled low over his brow. It obscured most of his face, though a shaggy brown beard, wet with moisture, was visible. The grey cloak was thoroughly damp and mud stained. In fact, it was difficult to tell if the cloak was actually grey - it could have very well once been white.

The cloak, wrapped tightly about the horseman despite the dubious warmth that it offered, was occasionally pulled aside by the slight breeze. One such gust of wind happened to shift the cloak aside as the rider passed the two sentries, revealing a white metallic breastplate. However, the eyes of the sentries were drawn more towards another sight… sheathed at the man’s side was a vicious looking sword, if one could call it that. The size and shape of the blade underneath its scabbard suggested a weapon that was more akin to a cleaver. It was a brute of a sword, a falchion, and few men had the strength to use one effectively. The wind shifted again, covered both blade and armor once more with the marred grey cloak.

Somehow, despite is apparently condition of weariness, the rider seemed to be aware of the gaze of the sentries. He turned his head slightly to peer at them, and with what could almost be a small grin on his shadowed face, he tipped his hat to them as he passed. One of the sentries nodded slightly in return.

Without pausing further, the rider continued on his way deeper into the city. The few folk that wandered the streets at such a late hour may have noticed the way the man gazed up at one of the tallest structures of the city - The Istari Tower.

As horse and rider disappeared into the streets, the younger of the two sentries, a new recruit, turned to his partner. “That fellow certainly looked like trouble… should we alert the Sergeant?”

The elder of the sentries gave a gruff laugh. “Calm down lad… didn’t you realize who that was?”

The sentry shook his head and rubbed his hands together over the brazier. “No… should I have?”

The elder sentry smiled. “Did you not see the crest of the Weave Master’s under the mud of that man’s cloak?”

The second sentry shrugged. “It was so dirty I could hardly tell…”

“Or the badge of the Weave Captain on his breastplate?”

“Well, no-”

“Surely”, grinned the older sentry, “You recognized the brute of a sword at his side, eh?”

“Now that you mention it…”

The older sentry nodded, a grin on his face. “Aye, lad, that man was no stranger to this city… he’s been gone for quite some time…”

******

An hour or so later, after he had quietly entered the Elfsong and purchased a bundle of bread, cheese and meat, the cloaked rider with the feathered hat carefully tied his steed next to a lamppost outside of the Tower of the Weave Masers. Removing both battered saddlebags from his tried horse, the rider slowly walked up to the entrance of the Tower.

The man suddenly stood stiffly to attention, and saluted both of the Weave Guardians at the entrance with military precision. Bemused, both of the guard retuned the salute, unsure of who this man was. The cloak man chuckled softly, and pulled off his hat, revealing his face.

The two guards were shocked to see the haggard face of their old commanding officer smiling kindly at them. “Captain William, sir? Is that you?!”

******

After chatting briefly with the two guardsmen, William made his way into the Tower, following the route back to his old chambers by memory. When he reached them, he found the door to his chambers unlocked. Pushing the heavy oaken door open, he smiled softly as the room was lit up by the light of the hall. A layer of dust covered everything, his cot, his desk, his storage chests. A stack of unopened letters and papers sat neatly on his desk, next to a bottle of unopened Firewall Stout. William smiled again. He had been gone for far too long…