He walked with the same slow deliberate pace that had carried him for over 70 years across many lands and across oceans.

 

He only stood 5' high and carried nothing but a crooked walking stick but his slanted eyes had seen things a guild full of mages would never have the chance to experience.

 

He stopped at the large rune that was permanently burned into the skin of the sparring fields and surveyed the area.

 

His simple cloth pajamas flapped in the warm breeze. He liked this place, it had a history, he could feel it.

 

Grinning thru his whitning gray beard he reached into his loose sleeve and produced a small carving of a chest. He whispered to it and it sprang to a large chest big enough to lay 2 men into.

 

He heaved once and pulled the simple key from his mouth. unlocking the chest he swallowed the key again

 

From inside the normal dark bamboo chest he pulls 20' poles, bundles of cloth, large shield sized brazers and other misc items. Before the sun set he had erected his large tent and the pan set braizers burn warmly on either side of the entrance. Several wooden stumps now set in a semi circle laid in front of the tent.

 

He had smelled the evil on the wind and seen the dead animals that had fallen.His dreams told him his services as a teacher may be wanted. Something corrupt was near

 

After cooking his rice he sat stroking his long fine beard. Looking into the night at the huge curious rune, it seemed familiar and it didn't make him feel good at all

 

He rubbed the tatto rune on the side of his own bald head and conteplated the days events. Soon he might wander into town for some supplies and see what the local populace gossip was. Looking at the roof lines in the distance  he sat quietly as he ate the hot rice clumps and fisheads