Prologue, Keltrik's Tale

Long Beard looked over the path carefully, his senses turned to the dense forest around him. His name did not hold up to his features, only a dark stubble clung to his jaw. Long Beard's dark eyes pieced the shadows of the forest, his ears searched for signs of his quarry. He pulled off a leather glove and put his hand to the forest floor. The leather of his coat and leggings creaked quietly as he shifted his weight, his fingers snaking over something under the leaves. A trace something had passed, something he was searching for. Standing, Long Beard looked back at his two companions. City lads cloaked in dark leathers and coats bumbling through the forest. Royal scouts making a royal ruckus he thought, pressing deeper into the Oldwood. Long Beard pulled his glove back on and took the compound bow from his shoulder. Well designed but simple, the bow was his most trusted tool and weapon. With an arrow notched the ranger moved through the brush in near silence for hours. Trailing him the scouts made subtle grunts and stepped on the odd twig. Most pray would not be startled into running, but Long Beard felt he was chasing hunters.

The small party crawled up a small ridge crested by ancient unearthed roots. They peered through the dirt and wood into a small clearing, heavy shadows cast by the afternoon sun. Long Beard whispered as a light breeze passed over him and the scouts, his warning lost in the gentle wind. But the royal scouts had seen, and both ducked down fighting the urge to run back to a city. A man sized figure passed around with broad sword drawn and alert. But it wasn't a warrior or bandit. Too skinny, too boney. Long Beard watched in silence. He whispered again, and the wind came again. Leaves parted for a brief moment and it was enough.

"Confirmed," He said simply to the scouts, each breathing deep and slow. The three moved back into the woods quieter than they had come. The swordsman in the clearing tilted it's head, nothing more than a skull. It heard something but dismissed it when a soft wind passed over it's bones, every one exposed to the elements down to the narrow fingers clasped around an ancient sword.