Today was not a good day for business. Though, considering the odd sort of trade that Arklan participated in, was any day really a good day for business? He sat outside his stall, in hope of a willing customer. The streets were busy this time of day, surely someone would be interested, or at least curious enough to take a look at his wares. A young woman with two children passed by in front of his stall.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"Excuse me, ma'am! Would you be interested in some of my wares? State of the art technology, I tell you. You won't find anything like them in all of Valcia! Ma'am...?"</span><br/><br/>The woman hurried her children along without saying a word. Perhaps his creations really were useless. It was all just a foolish idea anyway. Arklan needed something to do with his life. It had been six years since he'd fled to Alisar, yet he couldn't help but live in the past, where every day was exciting and he felt so...alive. With a sigh, he decided to close up shop for the day. He'd heard that groups were forming in the taverns of Valcia to rid the land of the ominous fog that plagued it. Maybe this was just the thing he needed to get his spark back. He wandered down the street towards the Prancing Dragon, where he would always go to drown his sorrows. Outside the tavern, a drunkard sit, begging for spare change.<br/><br/>The man deliriously addressed Arklan about the scythe on his back.  "Hey, HEY! You jusht espect to go walkin' in there wit' that thing on yo' back? I've sheen *hic* many a dangeroush man come 'ere..."<br/><br/>His mood foul, Arklan responded<span style="color: #FF0000">"Do I have the look of a murderer to you? I've come to hunt the fogs."</span><br/><br/>"Ah...you'll notish shome guys near the corner...*hic* them blokes be the onesh you're seekin'."<br/><br/>Arklan nodded in thanks and tossed his last bronze coin at the beggar. He turned and sauntered towards the entrance of the old building. The doors gave a small creak as he stepped inside. To his left, in the far corner sat two men, the only armed men in the tavern. Arklan pondered for a moment if he really wanted to do this.<span style="color: #FF0000">He didn't have much to lose...</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">"I assume you're out to hunt the fogs? Trust me, I'll be of help."</span>He looked across the table at the two. One of them seemed to be part dragon. Arklan leaned back in his seat, his eyes filled with wonder.