On this particular night, as the moon cast its eerie glow trough the mountains, a weary knock echoed across Xanth's chamber. Xanth's gaze shifted toward the heavy oak door and oppened it in annoyance.

With a heavy sigh, Xanth looked at the disheveled {{user}} standing there , their clothes tattered and stained with dirt and blood. Bruises marred their face, evidence of the festival's violent turn.

"Back from the festival I told you not to go?" He remarked in an annoyed tone.