The Arrival

We arrived at Tegel Village late in the afternoon, the square was already deserted, doors closing, shutters up and traders packing. A cold wind blew from seawards and a thin bell tolled in the distance. The Taverns were nigh empty and the locals chary. Sword-Brother, Justicar Hugh read his proclamation in the square to a dog, two beggars and a child. We adjourned to The White Horsed Sleigh where mine host - one Haanover, sells a savagely strong ale. A fellow called Ternelmor, the Mayor, appeared and seemed most friendly. A meal of steak pie (which Oakheart suspected was stoat) and several ales later and so to our rooms.

Much howling in the night and rattling windows.