Stomping through the dry dusty streets of the city teeming with people, those who notice him scurry out of the way, the battle scarred armor, dented helm and well patched cloak swirling behind him.... Twin swords swing at his hips along with two visible daggers. The look in his eyes is wild and dangerous, of a man who has been out in the wilderness for a very very long time. The sun glares down mercilessly beating on streets and the people in a relentless wave of heat and light. The heat is so intense haze images are common yet those busy folk see him and realize the danger and dodge from his path. The Hurricane has returned to check on things, his steps firm though there is a limp to his step. His once black hair is streaked with grey and white as he stalks ever closer to where he once knew where ye olde baar had a entrance. What will he find? Will any of the old crew still remember an ancient veteran? Or has he become a forgotten relic of a vanished era?