Orman Grizwald was new in town, he wasn't very talkative, and had just bought the local tavern and inn only a few months ago. In fact, nobody knew much about him. Him and his son, Donald, a young boy who was almost never seen. Pretty much kept to themselves.What people didn't know, though, was that Orman was actually the infamous sorcerer Endwyn. Who was known for chasing a raving giant through the capital city of Groun, razing the town of Ebalin to the ground, and being the only man to face the circle of seven and live. He was also the youngest person ever accepted to the Girlington acadamy of night, and the youngest ever expelled. The man was a genius, and though he had a wicked reputation.
Truthfully he'd done all of those things, but there was a story behind each of them.
At the moment, Orman stood behind the bar, pipe in his mouth, cleaning glasses and looking over the near empty tavern in front of him. Not that it was ever really full, The town was small, and trade only usually came through in mid summer, when the peddlers came this way. And this moment was one of those peaceful ones that he enjoyed so much. It was one of those times he'd never had in his old life.
As he watched, two men walked in the door, neither of them who he recognized, which was strange, since very few travellers went this way. He walked over to them as they sat and decided to serve them himself. "Can I help you lads?" He'd asked. Noting the hidden daggers all over their body, and that both men wore mail under their shirt. He pursed his lips as he recognized brigands, but served them happily.
