Faregon runs his calloused fingers along his blade, mulling over the predicament that has been plaguing his already chaotic mind.

"You don't have to do this! Just walk away!" Jared says, with quivered lips. Jared isn't the type of man to falter in confidence of a man so used to slaying demons and its ilk, but his friend is about to embark on a mission not designed for the likes of brave, mortal men.

"This is not your usual hellhound or succubus encounter Faregon ... " Jared continues. "I don't know if you'll walk out of this one alive. Your skills have served you well, but even a swordsman of your caliber is unequipped to deal with this."

Faregon isn't one for many words. He gets up slowly, using his blade to lift himself off the mossy rocks. Jared again pleads with his friend. "Don't do this please! How are you going to kill something you cannot see?"

Faregon looks at his anxious companion with weary eyes. He wishes he can mutter words to assure his friend that he will be fine, like always, but the air of uncertainty lingers like never before. "I can't!" Faregon responds pensively.

"What is your plan?" Jared asks.

"Die trying!" Faregon replies earnestly.

As Faregon trudged through the harsh and wintry conditions of Moon Peaks, his mind weighed heavy with the burden of uncertainty. The biting cold gnawed at his exposed skin, and the relentless wind howled like a chorus of lost souls. Yet, he pressed on, driven by an unseen force urging him forward.

Just when he thought he could endure no more, a faint glimmer of light pierced through the blizzard, beckoning him toward a humble tavern nestled amidst the snow-capped peaks. With weary steps, Faregon approached the weather-beaten door, its wooden frame creaking in protest as he pushed it open.

Stepping into the warmth of the tavern, Faregon was greeted by a comforting wave of heat and the savory aroma of hearty stew. The room was filled with a motley crew of travelers, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candles.

Making his way to the bar, Faregon exchanged a weary nod with the tavern keeper, who wordlessly poured him a mug of steaming mulled wine. As Faregon sipped the soothing liquid, he couldn't help but feel a sense of solace wash over him, if only for a fleeting moment.

Lost in thought, Faregon's reverie was interrupted by the sound of hushed whispers emanating from a shadowy corner of the tavern.

As Faregon's senses sharpened, he caught wind of the whispers echoing from the darkened corner. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a warning from the depths of his instincts. Setting down his mug with a calculated grace, he subtly shifted his weight, readying himself for whatever may come.

Without warning, the shadowy figures lunged from their concealed positions, blades glinting in the dim light. Faregon's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, drawing the weapon with a fluid motion. His movements were a dance of death, each step precise and deliberate.

The mercenaries underestimated him, their attacks sloppy and uncoordinated compared to his honed skill. With a whirlwind of steel, Faregon parried their blows effortlessly, his blade a blur of lethal grace. His strikes were calculated and decisive, finding their mark with lethal accuracy.

One by one, the mercenaries fell beneath his blade, their cries silenced by the finality of death. Faregon's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he stood amidst the fallen assailants, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Just as he began to catch his breath, a figure emerged from the shadows, his features obscured by the darkness. Faregon tensed, wary of this new arrival.

"You're a popular man for all the wrong reasons Faregon," the man spoke, his voice low and gravelly. Distinctive of someone who is battle-weary. "You have done well to take care of business here, but business is far from over."

"Tell me what you want, stranger!" Faregon responds impatiently.

"I'm not here simply to pay lip service to what you have done here tonight, but heed my warning that your head has a significant bounty. I am a friend, though you may not believe it. I can offer you sanctuary, a chance to escape those who seek your demise. But first, we must leave this place. It's not safe to talk here."