A mysterious figure enters the party field. He is robed in a long grey cloak and his face is obscured by a deep hood. A long sword hangs from his waist and he bears a pack.
Ignoring the curious stares of others, he traverses the field and enters the bar. Seizing a tankard filled with ale, he rests himself on a stool and turns to the other occupants of the room. An amused but muffled voice comes from the shadows of the hood. "Well met, my friendth. What newth from the void?"
Veritas, dubious of the newcomer's intentions, raises her staff and steps before the Hobbits. Birdland, Child of the Seventh Age and Piosenniel enter the room, glaring darkly at the stranger.
"Come now," he says. "I've heard this ith a party and all are welcome. I bear no ill will to any here. Indeed, I am told you are all heroeth. I am here for your tale. There is nothing mythterious about that."
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