Année 800 - 11 février - Après-midi
Les cieux étaient particulièrement durs, mais pas assez pour provoquer l'alarme. Les enfants jouaient dans la rue, tandis que les adultes s'éparpillaient pour gagner leur vie. Les mendiants cherchaient de la nourriture; les élites planifiaient leurs fêtes. À la fin de la journée, les familles se reposaient les yeux et les ivrognes quittaient le pub. Ce ne serait qu'un autre jour. Rien de spécial n'allait arriver. Ou alors les ignorants croyaient...
Peu de gens savaient, juste au-delà de l'horizon, qu'une tempête de proportions épique s'approchait d'une vitesse irréprochable. Il détruisait des villes entières en quelques heures. Les survivants étaient laissés dans des brouillons, regardant des années de dur labeur, partis en quelques instants, les vies ont changé pour toujours.
Notre conte commence dans un village spécial. Oui, ils raconteraient la destruction de l'horrible tempête. Mais parmi ces souvenirs se trouvent des histoires uniques à ce village particulier. Car jamais dans l'histoire les dix « Anneaux Légendaires du Pouvoir » n'avaient été réunis en un seul endroit. Les histoires parlaient de sorcières, de démons, d'anges, et plus encore. Nous croyons maintenant que ces histoires étaient en fait des récits de première main de ceux qui ont vu un "Ring of Power" au travail.
Mais ne nous laissons pas trop d'avance sur nous-mêmes. Les hommes et les femmes les plus éminents de notre histoire n'ont pas entendu parler de cette tempête tout de suite. Comme tous les autres villages avant eux, il n'y aurait pas le temps d'être avertis. Quand la tempête frapperait, tout serait jeté au chaos. Jusque-là, c'était comme d'habitude.

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Name: Lester Barman of Northumbria (a factual kingdom)
Age: 25
Occupation: Bartender
Ring: Violet
Appearance:

Biography:
Lester grew up in the city of York, located in the southern reaches of Northumbria. He never knew his mother, as she died shortly after giving birth to him, her first and only child. His father was a small time innkeeper, always struggling to pay the taxes. Father and son lived in one spare room within the inn. From a young age, Lester was put to work, first with cleaning chores, then with serving the patrons, and eventually slinging the drinks from behind the bar, along side his father.
By the age of nineteen, the small inn had risen to become a very respectable establishment, mostly due to Lester's ability to entertain bar guests. Life was looking on the up and up, until that fateful day...
One morning, Lester's father left to make his usual tax payments, but he did not return that evening as usual. Unable to do anything else, Lester went on doing his job, that day, that week, and a few weeks following. Then one morning, before open, a gang of men came knocking. They were nobles, looking for their tax payments. Lester tried to explain that his father had disappeared weeks prior on his way to pay them. He was unaware that the payment had never reached them and was unsure about the fate of his father. The men had no sympathy for the young man's situation. They proclaimed the building, and everything in it, state property. Lester was promptly kicked out onto the streets. He carried nothing more than small bag of clothing with one or two sentinmental trinkets hidden inside.
A nearby barkeep quickly snatched up the abandoned young man, offering him a position as a bartender there as well. For the next two years, Lester would stay at that pub living life much as he had before his father went missing. His same regulars came to visit him, and he made quite a bit of coin. But life was hallow now. His father was gone, and all the time he spent searching went completely to waste. Unable to stand this lifestyle that reminded him of the past, Lester decided to leave York.
For three years, Lester traveled aimlessly, from town to town. He searched for nothing more than a place to call home, somewhere that he felt safe. But in order to keep money in his pocket, the bartending profession kept pulling him back. From pub to pub, inn to inn, he stayed in no one town longer than a few months.
At his most recent establishment, Lester had a rather peculiar experience. A solitary man had quietly sat at the end of his bar. The man sipped on nothing but one or two weak ales. Lester tried to make conversation with the man, but he showed no interest in conversation. The man kept looking around as if he was waiting on someone. They never arrived.
At closing time, the man simply paid his tab and walked away. Lester chased the man down. He had given Lester far too many coins for such a small tab. The man only had two words for him, "Keep it." Lester had grown accustomed to big tippers, but this would be his best ever, nearly 10 times more than what the man had owed.
Later, as he was wiping down the bar, an expensive piece of jewelry caught his eye. It was violet ring, laid on the counter in front of were the man had sat.
Lester remained at this pub for nearly a month longer. He kept the abandoned ring in his pocket for safe keeping, in case man were to return. He would gladly give it back, but the man never returned. His words, "Keep it." kept running through Lester's mind. Was he also speaking of the ring when he said that? In any case, Lester's time was up. This too was not the town for him.
He now wanders the country side... with new accessory on his right hand.