Town of the Exiles

The air was thick with fog, its heavy gray swirling clouds hung low and heavy threatening to soak any fool soul willing to brave the cobbles.

Though today was different, their content, boring lives were to change. Ships had been seen.

Masts high and ominously silent.

The practitioners had come.

The tension rose to a near peak as the first longships beach.

There were no towers, no chains across the bay, no caltrops. No walls.

The Baron of Exile, Governor of the peninsula felt the icy grasp of his heart, his supremacy, his greed. Change was here.