The wet squishing of hooves walking through the mud was the only sound in the forest asides from the quiet howl of the wind and steady drumming of the frigid rain. The steed, dark as charcoal strolled through the woods carrying its master, a lean looking man in common street clothes, who looked mildly annoyed, but other than an occasional blink did not seem to acknowledge the weather around him. His left hand loosely held onto the reins of the horse, the right resting on the pommel of an odd sword sheathed on his hip.

For the past hour he had been traveling towards a large pillar of light he had seen. He had been riding for days. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but that had been his modus operandi for the past 4 years.

Eventually he saw a small trail of smoke rising in the air rising from the woods. Perhaps an encampment? He directed his steed to weave through the trees, coming about to a great tree-cavern filled with quite the number of colorful characters. He walked his horse into the cave, careful not to bump into anyone or anything and dismounted. He had the face of a foreigner, with pointed eyes, tan skin and hints of elvish pointedness in his ears that stuck out of his hair. It was difficult to tell much more about him, since his shoulder-length hair was soaking wet and covered much of his head.

"I hope I'm not encroaching. I would greatly appreciate a bit of your food." As he said this, the man walked over and carved a slice of the hog meat without waiting for a reply with his utility knife. He walked back over to his horse, now laying on the floor and sat down cross-legged, his sandals poking up into the air. "Name's Kazuo." The man points at the horse, "This is Trombe." The horse whinnies a greeting to the rest of the people in the cave,