With a grunt the heavy oak door swung open before a large bear-like man, though the huge knotted arms indicated the paltry act had taken little effort. His was the visage of one that tended to draw a certain wary attention, though the Venar were not unheard of this far south it was rare to see them free, often an early sign that trouble was soon to come. The fur-wearing Northman looked bleary eyed, as if he had been up all night drinking and the morning light pained him. Stomping through the bare inn his tired eyes swept the room, fangs protruding anti-socially as his reclusive nature fought against the current situation. He realised that he could not spot who he was looking for at first sight, nor could he properly pronounce his name.

Catching the barman returning from a table he gave the man a start as he noticed his appearance for the first time. However, before he could get words out or prepare to defend himself the heavy-set Ventus struggled through a question in the common tongue.

“I look for Eee-oo-ll-as.” He asserted, mispronouncing his potential employer’s name and failing to actually frame his remark as a question. Still, considering his terrible grasp of the language, it was a fair effort. His voice rumbled deeply, with an abysmal accent that gave the barkeep pause. However, using the skills such a man assembled over a life-time of speaking with all sorts, he pieced together his old friend’s mysterious behaviour and the barbarian’s presence. Taking in his obvious weapons and meaty demeanour he worried anew for his old friend, wondering just what business he’d got himself into. Nodding at the Venar, he pointed to the table.

“Eolas is over there, can I get you something to drink?”

“Ale.” The Venar struggled for a moment. “My thanks.” He walked off, giving the barkeep a brief and uncertain nod before his great stride carried him to the table where Eolas sat. He looked at the old Ventus for a moment, taking in his fair height with approval and sitting down without waiting to be told. He spread his weight evenly on the chair and instinctively pulled it away from the table to allow himself room to move quickly if necessary. Fixing the Ventus with hunter’s eyes, albeit slightly unfocused due to his hangover, the North-man’s look spoke a thousand words, if his time had been wasted blood would be shed.

“I am Bakk.”