A cold wind blows across the grounds of the mighty Keep. Born of the mountains of a distant land, it carries the bitter feel of snow and ice, and the sour tang of death itself. Across the surrounding grassland it weaves its way, until finally it reaches the ancient graveyard, burial ground of past writers both loved and loathed. As if guided by some unknown purpose or will the wind slips between the stone slabs, seeking, searching. At last it comes to rest on one in particular. Older than some stones yet younger than many others it bears a long forgotten name, intricatly carved.
As the wind settles above the ancient marker an ancient and withered voice appears to spring from nowhere, accompanied by the haunting sound of pipes.
"He who was lost has now been found. The one who had perished, again must rise!"
The invisible pipes begin to play more urgently, becoming faster and faster, calling, summoning. Black thunder clouds carrfied by the wind spit lightning and rain, casuing the earth to tremble and shake. Finally with a titanic BOOM! the earth splits infront of the grave marker rending in two. The music stops and all is now silent.
A figure rises from the now open grave. Draped in a long black cloak, carrying an ancient looking staff, he streches and groans as if waking from a long sleep. Warily he looks about, surpressing a smile at the sight of the familiar fortress that he remembered as home. Slowly, staff tapping on the ground before him, he made his way towards it. What a surprise it would be for his old friends...if any were still alive.
The stone that marked the now empty grave leant drunkly, yet the name was still visible. The name, was "Solivagus"