Darath.

Darath sat in the corner of the small, dingy tavern, his dirty, travel-worn boots resting on the table.  The barmaid brought him his beer, he searched himself for his purse, but couldn't find it.  He stopped, he took of one of his boots, and fished out a few silver coin.
"There you are, Miss."  He handed her the coins, she then left.  After a few beers, his appointment came over to him, having just entered the bar. His appointment, Wil, sat down opposite him.
"So this is what you've taken to doing, old man."  Wil said.
"I've been looking around the world, seeing what's new, what's still here."  He replied.
"A storm is brewing, Darathoden, something is not right with the Gods, a great conflict is coming.  And the Brotherhood must be ready for whatever comes.  And your sitting in a shabby bar, drinking beer"  Wil said.
"I'm still contimplating of the coming danger, Wiloden, I've felt it to, a certain energy in the air."
"Well, the Brotherhood is having a council, but Master Adirus is at Mt. Celest Deaus."  Wil replied.  Darath looked sadly at his beer.
"I suppose I can take it along."  They both left the tavern.