Law, Duty, Honor



Cold wind blows across the windswept computer monitor, gently brushing along the trees, and sending smoke from the distant chimney spiraling into the sky.  It's a hard day of winter, somewhere deep in Summerhold, filled with an angry breeze and the darkness of a clouded sky.  There's a snow coming.  And though it's all fake, you can swear that something chilling seeps in with the light flooding from your screen.  Your destination is near.  You can feel it.  And see it.  And more to the point - read it.  Before you sits a small, comely home, a fireplace rumbling before it, with a robed figure sitting down beside it, gently stirring the coals.
"Welcome, stranger."  The figure gives off a warm smile as you approach, gesturing for you to sit by the fire.  Beside his poor leg, propped up on a log, he sets his steel-tipped cane, and eyes you.  There's no suspicion in his eyes, only mildly interested resignation.  "You're here for roleplay, I take?  That's what they always come for, after all.  It's nothing to be ashamed of, but I must admit a touch of apprehension.  Still.  No harm in trying."  After a pause, he frowns, bemusement on his face.  "Well.  I suppose there's plenty of harm, isn't there?  Should the worst come."  Offhandedly, he gestures for the door, making to stand.  "I'll show you in.  Mind your step."