An old man approaches

[Kordin]

I see you bear the tabard of The Grim! Come, sit, and humor an old man for a short while.

Look at yourself, eh. The strength in your limbs. The glimmer of youth in your eyes. How you must think of me. I must look feeble to you, yes? You think my bones have gone to dust. Hah. Well, near enough. The body is wasting, yes, but the mind is still sharp.

Oh, forgive me. My thoughts wander and time marches forward.

I am a conjuror. My name is Kordin and I see things beyond seeing; the infernal spirits guide my path. They whisper the shape of things to come, and they tell me of an end. Oblivion lurks on the horizon, Grim, and in its shadow is cast a final peace.

Is not your call to arms a rally for peace? Yes. I believe I have seen your banners flapping gently over the slain. I have stepped along the silent trail of dead left in your wake.

Among these whisperings, among these visions that the infernals give me, I have seen that I am to be instrumental in the steady silencing of the world. It is merely the natural order; all things must end. So it is that I pursue my fate as one who hastens the change.

One might wonder how an elderly scholar might prove of any use in the future that bears down upon us. A reasonable question, yes, but in my years I have learned to trust these things. I have learned to accept them.

So, here I am, an old and solitary man. I feel myself pushed into battle, into a necessary war, and I fear to go into it alone.

I leave the question to you, Grim, might I find a place to work among you while the night approaches?