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A deep shadow passed quickly across the nothern fields, followed by one more. Had he not been expecting it, he would have flinched or fled for the security of his city ... Devoted in his faith to the Overlord, he accustomed to the manner of his guests by now, and for once welcome it. Red and ocher leaves whirled and danced in the wind that followed the shadows, scuttering around the wise Shaman's ankles. He permitted himself a small half-smile... It was just like the strangers to use even their entrance as a display of domination and power. The intent was to make him flinch, step back, or raise his staff to ward off the scare of frighten... Even if the Shaman had been through a long night, he did neither. His kin was long ago lost in the shadows of Luclin, a moon that once was, many centuries ago. It was early in the morning. The sun was red as it was slowly raising up in the horizon behind the great walls of Freeport, since the birth of this place... The Commonlands; Land of the proud men of the West; Dynasty of a new Lord ...