As you make your camp for the evening a old, frazzled stranger leaning on a cane approaches you and asks if he might share the warmth of your fire. He tells you that he has a tale that many have heard whispers of but that few have ever heard in truth. He smiles at you as he sits down and pulls out a flask of some sort of ale and passes it to you as he begins to speak, "Even though this legend is ancient, it's still spoken of in awe. Few are the eyes that are empty of tears as this tale is regaled by bards and sages alike. I shall then dispense with my words of foretelling and instead I shall begin this tale of fate, this tale of loss and sorrow, this tale of redemption, the tale of Saeril..."