The drinks were horrible the young man thought as he drank down what he thought was water. Turned out it was ale and that explained why it tasted so bad. He overheard a conversation between a small group of people, who were complaining about one of their friends who had left them behind. The only name he got out of the conversation was Mordankell and they said he was going westward alone, that it was suicide to go to the mountains by oneself and some said that he was either selfless, selfish, brave, or stupid.<br/><br/>He also heard a mention of a demon and he straightened in his seat, a demon. A demon had lots of power, lots of knowledge. For the right price, a demon could tell one anything that it knew. Maybe he could finally find him... finally find his "father". He was done sitting around and wandering, hoping to randomly encounter him. He wanted some progress and he wanted it now.<br/><br/>He sat up and left the tavern, standing at the beginning of the road that led west. He ran at blinding speed and then leaped into the forest when he reached it, leaping from treetop to treetop, hoping to find the strange wanderer with the walking stick, for if he was not this "Mordankell" that the people spoke of, then he didn't know who.