The festival began at dawn and the Dwarven heathsmaster sounded a great Horn to commence the festivities. Freed from your menial duty’s you wandered the gathering eager to see what the strange and exotic things the others had brought. As you passed through the fayer you saw a strange man striding purposely from booth to booth inspecting everything but as far you could tell buying nothing though it might have been he passed a bag to the Apothecaries Herb-master. Thinking no more about it you turned back to your own business only to find a few moments later the stranger appraising you keenly.

The man was tall over six feet and had the deep hazelnut tan of the folk of southern Mengath, not quite the brown black of the dessert dwellers of that region that passed through your villages now and then on their way to gaze incomprehensibly at the Ocean as their curios custom was.

No, this was a man of substance from the cooler lands of the delta of the Men river. His gear was simple but you could see its quality, and was that an actual golden ring he wore? With a slight smile he saw your gaze linger a moment on his jewellery.

“Such things can come to any that have the fire to seek to better themselves my friend” he said in a low voice. “Honest effort and the wisdom to seize any opportunity have made my fortune. Perhaps you will make yours likewise one day?”
Smiling slightly lopsidedly at you : as if sharing an inner joke, he tipped his wide brimmed hat to you as he strode off into the crowd. Unable to reply to such an address you can only stand there wondering at the man’s manner and.. you recalled with a shudder, what could;d have happened to his eyes, both seemed filmed over with cataracts but he had not moved like a blind man, no he seemed to almost look right through you with those creamy featureless orbs..