As Coren dan Balor quaffed the last dregs from his tankard of ale, the door to the tavern opened. A cold breeze blew into the cavernous, dark room and caused the flames in the fireplace to flicker. The light from outside was somewhat obscured by a large round figure who, on seeing Coren, called out in a hearty voice.

"Ah! Great White Bear! How goes it, comrade?" the figure bellowed in greeting.

Coren winced at his nickname. He'd received it nearly a year ago after fighting and killing a great polar bear that had been rampaging the Ice Clans in the north. None had seen such a white bear before and many believed it to be a sign from one of the gods. The bear was powerful and Coren had fought hard to defeat it, almost losing his life to the beast. Still, he prevailed and since that time had worn the beast's white fur about his vast shoulders as a trophy.

"Badly, Deric", grumbled Coren in reply, "but nothing a few pints of warm ale won't fix". He ordered more drinks for his companion and himself from the waiting barmaid.

The large, fat man sat down in the seat next to Coren, causing the chair to groan in protest. Coren knew the man well. Like himself, Deric 'the Devourer' had been a slave to the Dragonlords for many years before they were mercenaries. Together they had performed mindless and backbreaking chores and, when older, had also grudgingly helped protect the Dragonlords from smaller threats to their power.

In those days, whilst they had both been boys growing into men, Deric had been small, thin and undernourished. Since escaping the Dragonlords, Deric had made up for lost time by eating anything and everything that he could. Hence everyone knew him as Deric the Devourer, though none told him this to his face.

Deric took the tankard placed before him, smiled and drank a healthy gulp.

"Aah, now that's better", he muttered into his mug. He turned to look at Coren. "I hear you went to see the witch on the Spires?"

"Aye, that I did", Coren muttered in agreement. "Though it took three days before the blessed Oracle would see me. Damn the woman's prophecy!" Coren spat on the floor and took another mouthful of the bitter ale.

"Why in Soturo's name did you go to see the witch woman in the first place?" asked Deric, glancing askance at his companion. "And what's this about a prophecy?"

Coren looked at Deric the Devourer, his eyes narrowing. He knew the man had heard about the prophecy. It seemed that everyone in Freehold had heard something about the Tomiak Oracle's words to the Great White Bear. Still, he told his friend his prophetic tale.

First, he explained how he had been plagued by dark dreams since destroying the snow bear on the icy tundra. The dreams always followed a young, white bear who had never known its father and whose mother had been killed by hunters. In its early life the cub was surrounded by terrible serpents of inky darkness, which bit at the young bear's paws and hissed in his face. Eventually the cub, now a fully grown bear, managed to escape the serpents. However, when he looked behind him, the dream bear would always see a huge serpent following him.

Continuing, Coren told how the bear would run and run, trying to escape the hideous creature but never fully succeeding. So the white bear would turn and face the monstrous black serpent. Together they would fight a bloody battle of claws against fangs, which seemed to last a year or more. Eventually, the bear tired and the fearsome black serpent would rear up, pause for a moment sensing its victory and then lunge swifty down to strike the bear. There, announced Coren, the dream ended leaving him drenched in sweat and unable to sleep again that night.

Next, Coren explained how he had sought the Oracle's advice to rid himself of this dream. He had camped out outside the woman's dwelling for days until the mystical one finally granted him an audience. However, on seeing Coren, the Oracle had not offered assistance or anything useful regarding the dream. Instead she had explained about a prophecy, made over a hundred years before, about a Great White Bear.

Describing the Oracle a little, Coren went on to explain that her prophecy had said that this bear was destined to help the free peoples of the north but must first face a dark storm that threatened the land. The prophecy said that the bear would fail unless aided by hearty companions, including a mysterious grey wolf, a cunning red fox and a golden desert hawk. Together they would prevail but apart they, and all the lands nearby, would face a crushing defeat.

"And that", explained Coren, finishing the last of his three tankard of ale, "is why I am sitting here, trying to drink myself into a stupor to rid myself of talk of clouds and wolves".

Deric clapped his tall, muscled, white-haired friend on the back.

"Haha!" he chuckled, eyeing up a large plate of food that the barmaid was serving to another patron. "So now you are plagued by terrible dreams and a witch's prophecy. A double curse! Is that all the hag told you?" he asked, knowingly.

Coren grunted.

"As much as" he responded. "Oh, she also mentioned that I was to seek a man who would help me bring the prophecy to fruition but, as is her way, left out many of the details. And something about a woman...".

His voice trailed off. For now, Coren decided to hold back on what details the Oracle had provided him. Right at this moment, in this dark and damp alehouse, they didn't seem important.

His vast stomach rumbling, Deric decided it was time to change the subject to something they had in common.

"Well, enough of women and magic. I hear that the mercenary business is treating you well, is it not?" asked Deric.

"Aye", answered Coren somewhat more happily, "Guarding work pays, my friend. Although I always seek more money, my pouches are currently full, praise be to Geruatha".

Deric the Devourer smiled a toothy grin and pointed a gnarled thumb in the direction of the returning barmaid.

"In which case, Great White One, you can buy our supper". Deric licked his large lips and chuckled as Coren sighed deeply.