Oleg strode to the manor in a very unpleasant mood. The rain was good for the farmers for they needed it for their crops but the darkness that had enveloped the area was not to his liking. His heavy fur cloak kept most of the rain and cold from his flesh yet goosebumps were all over him. Something was wrong on this night and it was on the same night of the Lord Rune's dinner party. He was chosen by the grizzled old cleric that ran the longhouse that was their temple to represent them this evening. He knew to be on his best behavior but the way these people kept slaves irked him greatly.<br/><br/>His homeland had something similar to the slaves, thralls is what they had called them. Though they had far more rights and were treated for better than these people were. They were driven into submission, there was no honor in it. He knocked on the doors to the manor and waited for one of the meeklings, as he called them, to open the door.