Gred did not like owning an inn. The Waystop Inn was in the outskirts of Gredlow, so not many people visited. Just the occasional trapper or Adventurer. Gred was minding his own business, cleaning some jugs with a rag, when the door to his inn banged open. His inn had a tavern on the bottom for anyone who wanted to have some beer. The tavern went silent, and the man in the doorway strode forward. He was ragged and his clothing was ripped up.
"They are coming. It is too late. I couldn't stop them."
Then the man fell unconscious.