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Turgon yawned, and sat up in his bed. It was another fine morning - the sun shone through the little window in his bedroom, and the birds sang happily outside. Turgon stood up, changed from his nightwear to the regular clothes, and went outside. "The sun have had me fooled already," he thought with a sigh. "Dark clouds are gathering up already. I guess I should start repairing that fence right away, then."
Twelve years had gone since that horrible day when Turgon had stood by the city walls and fought against the Drow army and their demon. That was his last mission for the Order of Merlin, and was also the last time he saw Tahl'Zair, his tiefling leader. Since then, the sorcerer travelled much around, before he found a small, peaceful village to settle in. He had lived there for eight years now, and had become merely a regular villager, trying to hide his magical abilities as well as he could. The truth couldn't be hidden, though, he was still a channeler of much magical powers.
Turgon found his hammer and tools, and sat down next to the fence. The dark clouds had come disturbingly closer, and the sorcerer started to get uncomfortable. "Clouds like that don't approach so quickly," he thought. "Something must be up."
Suddenly, Turgon felt a strong feeling building up inside him, something that was far greater than him. All his memories from his time as a servant of Mystra came back to him, and his heart longed to see the walls of their headquarter again. "The Order of Merlin... I thought I had forgotten that word forever? But the truth cannot be sealed away any longer now."
With that, he stood up, and went inside the house. Ten minutes later, he came back outside again, but now in a dark purple cloak, and with a quarterstaff in his hand. "I never thought I would dig these items up again," he said, and smiled.
Two weeks later, Turgon arrived at the old palace, his previous hideout. "The torches are burning. Peculiar," he thought, and went inside.
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