The main gate of the city had been set upon by Yetlin's army since the onset of the battle with the assault lead by the ogres and their warchief, whom the people of Gohlen feared. When the gate broke at last after a dozen suns it seemed the city was lost. The warchief stepped in drunk with his victory and sure that the citizens would simply give up. Instead he found a stoic figure before him, a small shield over its right arm and a hooked pole in its left hand.
Faird was a big man, muscled and tough. He'd been a soldier in the Taevan army before coming to Gohlen, a veteran turned deserter by too much bloodshed. Being a foreigner he'd never been completely accepted among the people; not in all of his seventeen years spent living there. Faird came seeking freedom from Taevan law and many whispered of him as a fugitive. Yet whatever he was running from he found peace in Gohlen. He married a gentle woman and had two children, and lived peacefully at least for a while. It was odd but he nev