(Olaf)
"Erek rode and rode, fearful of those who might have found evidence of his vengeful deed back in the nomad camp. A night and day passed without any sign of human civilization. Fatigue gripped Erek Finally, a dim, glimmering light caught Erek's eye, a tavern. The allure of the fire and the promise of ale, drew Erek in. He was searching for anything to take the anguish, of which he still carried in excess, away. Erek entered the tavern to find old men and Ivorian soldiers toasting to good health and the life of the Great King. Soon a drunken, old bard began to tell eerie tales of a behemoth who resided in the wood at the base of Shadow Mountain. Almost instantly, the bard was silenced by the rest of the merry patrons, but no sooner had the old man been stifled, then Erek's mind began to swim with thoughts of witchery and netherwordly creatures. Although intrigued, Erek soon forgot the ravings and fell into a drunken stupor. A few years passed in this fashion. Erek's only comfort, a pint of ale. Realizing that living in debauchery would not dampen his longing for revenge, Erek resumed his quest to find one who could train him in the art of war, so that he would be ready, when the time came, to enact his purpose once more."