The Weary Wanderers
Exile had been through a rough few weeks recently. Encountering Lady Dark in her temple of new beginnings and a bastard demi-god that sucked the energy out of the world around her, leaving it dull and lifeless. His body was tired and his legs were shaky, always walking everywhere he went as he had no steed or vehicle. Walking constantly in one direction would surely bring him to a coast one day, and after traveling east for nearly 600 miles, Exile at last reached Carlin. It was not at all Exile's style. He dressed in expensive blue and silver garments, with piercing and tattoo's that even nobility thought was a little over the top. The 7 foot gypsy was draped in a dark blue cloak, concealing his heavy armament of weapons hidden beneath.
The tides of power were shifting in the world of man, Exile understood this well. The destined warrior could feel that his war was brewing. The death and pain that gripped this land now was a sign of a great evil growing to the west. The likes of witch could already be felt in the hearts of men. Exile knew now where to look in this city though. It had been over a decade since he had been among civilization, his return would be shaky at best.