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With a gesture of his hand Lorkon Ironheart dismisses the scouts and you are left alone in his company.
‘So you are the Aonian for whom Mistress Serocca would have me postpone the war against chaos,’ he says sardonically, reaching for a decanter of ruby red wine. He fills two crystal goblets and offers one to you. ‘Let us toast the success of your treasure hunt,’ he says, raising his glass on high.
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‘And to your triumph over chaos,’ you add diplomatically.
He smiles as he sips the bitter vintage and you regard each other with thoughtful curiosity. He has a youthful face, with high cheek-bones, narrow jaw, and a thin, chiselled, aristocratic nose. His silver hair is a mass of silken threads flowing from beneath the rim of his ornate conical helmet to fan across his wide shoulders and thick, vermilion cloak. But it is his eyes that fascinate you most, for they are filled with knowledge and ancient wisdom.
You talk at length about events which have brought you to the Nahgoth Forest in search of Lorkon’s help, and in return he tells you of the dangers you may face at Tolakos.
