NecroWolf Paladin Walked through the thick woods that surrounded a nearby village. He knew a large storm was approaching and that he would have to sleep at an Inn tonight instead of out in the wilderness as he was accustomed to. He didn't need to use any of his normal senses to how the weather would be, he could feel everything around him through the flows of magic running threw him. He always held on to at least one thread of each element just in case he had to weave together a spell to save his life. He could feel the earth through these magical threads and it told him of the storm that was coming. So once again he found himself facing the tough decision of whether to brave the storm or to head into a village. The severity of the coming storm made his choice for him.
He could almost tell already that no matter how low he attempted to keep himself there would be another riot here by the time he left. He could never understand why people always saw him as evil just for the magics he practiced. After all people alway ask themselves why their friends had to die. NecroWolf remembered hearing over and over when people wish out loud that their loved ones would return. But every time he even brought up, with some, the possibility that he could do this for them they would, curse his name, throw sharp things at him, and chase him out of town. But he had almost mastered the art of res-erecting the dead with souls intact. At the moment the best he could do was to animate corpses and stick souls into them temporarily, but they always died within the day. NecroWolf felt disappointed with himself for not grasping what in all reality should be a simple task. He was starting to wounder if the paladin order he had started in was right. If maybe creating life was best left in the hands of God.
So NecroWolf walked around the village once and found an Inn closest to the forest. He put up his hood, made sure the paladin markings on his sword were well hidden by the scabbard he placed on his back, and walked slowly out of the woods toward the Inn. "The Dragon's Claw Inn" read the sign above the door. He took a deep calming breath and entered. He signed into his room and after going over one of his masters old books on necromancy1 for probably the 30th time he walked out to the Inn's bar, ordered a drink, and sat down at a corner table in the back to drink while he observed the bars guests.
1 Just in case some people don't know necromancy is the art of magically res-erecting people from the dead.