((Let me know if this needs to be changed, I took a couple liberties))

The campfire drew wanderers like moths to a torch. Soon a small group had formed around it, weary travelers glad to warm their hands. Some spoke of their journies while others stood in silence, but all conversation cut off as a grating groan rolled across the plains.

The castle gates swung open, slowly, almost mockingly, their voice harsh with rust and disuse. From the darkness within strode a lone man... although he could not have been just a man.

His pace and his posture displayed absolute confidence, yet the expression on his face spoke of modesty and nonchalance. The Y-shaped scars beneath his hazel eyes stood out like trail markers on the path to his identity. His close cropped brown hair appeared immaculate, his black sifan clothing seemed freshly washed and pressed, and his matching boots shone as though recently buffed. He gave a subtle smile as he approached the group of travelers around the fire.

Those who carried weapons put hands to hilts. There was a shuffling of feet and a rattling of metal as all present turned to face the strange man.

"I mean you no harm," he said, raising empty hands. "My name is Joshua Cronen. I am a traveler, much like all of you." His voice was smooth, his diction impeccable. The choking ash in the air did not seem to touch him, as though kept at bay by an invisible force. An aura of cleanliness and strong vitality surrounded him, and the wanderers parted to make room by the fire.

The broad-shouldered man's smile grew as he warmed his palms, looking around at the questioning faces. They were curious. They wanted to know what he had seen and experienced inside the towering castle. Either propriety or fear of the potential answer stayed their tongues.

I wonder who will be the first to ask?