Though a majority of the human population, or what's left of it anyways, would say that they would love to spend the rest of their days in the comfort and safety of one of several strongholds. Even more would say that any human that would dare to leave said safety were foolish and filled with wishes of death. But not everyone can just settle down in one place and stay there, Farojorn was one of those people. He could never stay in one stronghold for too long, he grew restless within a week. He considered himself more of an outlander than anything else. The need to be constantly on the move, to constantly face danger drove him above all else.<br/><br/>At the announcement of the peace summit, Farojorn made his way to Miserth, the human stronghold turned sanctuary zone to show off the unity and the power that came with banding together, typical human propaganda. It took him two days to reach Miserth from the woodlands to the North, entering the outskirts of the keep on the final day of the peace summit between the humans and supernatural races.<br/><br/>Dressed in his ranger gear, he made his way through the crowded paths formed by various vendors selling their goods to the collection of different races eagerly awaiting the outcome of the summit. After idly wasting time by walking about the vendors, he found himself in front of a makeshift pub. Retrieving coin from his pouch, he ordered a drink before finding himself a spot to wait for the verdict.<br/><br/>Lucky for him, he didn't have to wait an awfully long time until the white noise of chatter began to die down to be filled with static and broken speech. Farojorn could recognize the feeble voice, Duncas, one of the nobles Farojorn could tolerate. Once the static ended, it took a moment before the words to set in. The summit<span style="font-weight: bold">failed</span>? Could no compromise have been reached?<span style="font-style: italic">Surely</span>he had heard it wrong.<br/><br/>The sudden panic in the crowd confirmed his fears, the summit had failed. The last chance for peace was gone, disappearing from sight. Then it occurred to him, another fear rushed him like waves crashing against a cliff during a violent storm - Farojorn needed to leave Miserth<span style="font-style: italic">immediately</span>. It was vital for him to get back to the safety of the woodlands before any supernatural decides to take their anger out on<span style="font-weight: bold">him</span>, a lone human as a substitute for the untouchable human leaders that were secured inside the fortress