Short story time.

You shift nervously, are you really going to go through with this? You glance at the slip of paper you've been holding. Its crinkled and a little damp from your sweat, but you can still read the address. You confirm that the numbers on the building match what's written on your note. The building itself is unassuming, just another run down apartment complex in the poorer part of town. You're not sure if it's your nerves or the way the shadows fall, but it seems to loom large.

Two men talked with each other over drinks.

"You 'ere what 'appened to Suthwick?" Asked the balding one.

His compatriot, a stout man with the hands of a metal worker raised an eye brow.

"No, I haven't, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me." The other man started to gesticulate as he spoke.

"Right you are! Soz the rumour from the local traders if that them Esarans are marching again."

The stout man leaned in.

"No... you don't mean THOSE Esarans, right Bart?"

"Yea, I'm serious, Stefan."

He knew what he had signed onto all those years ago, Auril was not a kind goddess. It did vex him, however, that he should die in the midst of a blizzard. Frost and wind bit at his body and the blood that escaped his wounds took with it valuable heat. Powers he had earned refused to come to him, Auril, it seemed, had no more use for him. After all he had failed her. He stumbled and felt one of his nearly closed wounds split open. He felt his life ebbing as his sight became naught but swirling ice and darkness.

I'm gonna try something I've been meaning to do for awhile regarding some of the non-player characters in #TheBookofExile I'm going to write some short little stories on them and likely post them into the game at some point. First up is Captain Abram Wolfe The long weeks aboard the prison ship were coming to a close soon. Wolfe knew this by the scent of the air; It was old, rotten and felt heavy in his lungs. He'd only made the trip once before, but that was different, back then then he wasn't the one in a cell.