Horse hooves clopped along the rocky dirt road. A lone hooded figure in a brown cloak steered his horse forward. A great sword three-quarters a man's height shifted in rhyme with the horse's movements.

[i]"Three weeks and no sight of any remnants,"[/i] he thought glumly. He frowned and looked at his bruised hands. It had been months since he had left the boundaries of the Dukedom. Months of traversing hilly terran, fighting bandits, and looking for anything that might help him on his mission. 

Months, and all he had to show for progress was an unkempt grizzled face, clothes that badly needed to washed, and the smoking paralyzed corpses of dead highwaymen and creatures on the road behind. 

He was exhausted, and his horse's sluggish movements indicated that it too was growing weary of the long journey. His bruised hands were only a small part of his suffering. His feet were cold and aching, there was an itch on his back he couldn't reach, and now his stomach growled in complaint. Rouen never really learned to scavenge, so food was scarce. The silver and gold coins that jingled in his belt-pouch had little value in the woods, where civilization and consequently anything that could be bought could be weeks away. 

They neared a turn and Rouen could see in the corner of the treeline, looked like a tavern. 

[i]"Finally! Civilization!"[/i] he thought as his face beamed with excitement. In his joy he discharged a jolt of electricity from his hand into his mount. The shock caused the horse to shriek and start jumping and tossing in a panic.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy girl! Easy!" he shouted as he jerked on the riding handles. The mount kept trying to shake him off and suddenly bolted into full speed towards the tavern. 

Rouen was too busy trying to stay on that he didn't realize the growing sight of the tavern's signpost, a blue half-moon. With an audible smack his head collided with the wooden plaque and he fell onto the ground.