You are a barkeep, going about your days the same, serving costumers and patrons of the little bar in the small village you live in. You honestly had never thought anything interesting would happen in such a little town.

Not until he showed up.

He walked into the bar on a cold winter night, a cloak covering his figure, but he towered over you nonetheless. He sat up at the bar, and spoke.

"Hello. I would like a glass of winter mead, please." He said in a blunt but polite manner.