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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Morwyld" data-source="post: 828198" data-attributes="member: 5997">Turik's StoryBlademasters...There are many legends about them, of course.  The tales are told around many campfires, in the nomad encampments, and the taverns of the cities, of al-Kar.And elsewhere.  Yet, real facts about them are elusive.  But, you have sought them out, when you've been able, during your travels.  Even in your travels in the northern snows, the tales are told, distorted by time and distance.However, it was not until you returned home that you learned of a text that might provide the answers you seek.It seems that, just under a century ago, a blademaster appeared in Kythraen, and fought against the Shadowen during the last great Shadow War.Such a thing is no great surprise, of course.  But it appears that this blademaster had several adventuring companions, one of them named  Morgan Taelmaron.  Morgan Taelmaron, it is said, kept detailed journals of his adventures.  Those journals may provide some of the answers you seek.Ian Taelmaron is Morgan's grandson.  So, for the last few weeks, you have been much in Ian's company.  To your disappointment, the journals themselves are at Taelmaron Keep, far to the north.However, Ian was raised on stories of his grandfather's many adventures, and he's been happy enough to share them with you.You have noted, however, that the young nobleman has been preoccupied recently.  Your visits with him have been less frequent.Several times you have ridden with him to an Inn north of the city, where he appears to be waiting on something, or someone.Each time, whatever he has been seeking has not appeared.  Each time, his preoccupation has grown.Ian is no coward, of that you are certain.  Yet he is worried, as the two of you ride in the gathering twilight along the north road.His hand rests near the hilt of his longsword, and his eyes search the brushline along the riverbank.As the Inn appears before you, he looks at you, and says, "I'm afraid there will be foul business this night, my friend.  I am sorry that you are likely to get dragged into it."He dismounts in the Inn courtyard, giving the reins to the stableboy,  the worry gone from his face, looking every inch the rich young nobleman, seeking an evening's entertainment at a favorite inn.</blockquote>

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