Wet fur. Cursed heavens and unforgiving gods. Harzax tisked as he broke his sprint into a paced jog, taking refuge at the Golden Goose's porsche. This rain was the most trouble he'd encountered on his way here from the next town over. 'Feline luck', that's what grandpa Malachy used to call it. Useful only against the least of your problems. A string of bounty jobs gone wrong and now he was unemployed again, but he'd get a fresh start in this town.

Harzax shook himself like an animal, his fur going from drenched and dripping to a spiky mess. He sighed and then puffed his chest, getting a job is a job in of itself, and it was time to get his paws to work. He opened the door with confidence and walked into the warm abode for adventurers and travelers. He made his way in unnanounced, past the noisy folk and up to the barfront.

"Barkeep, a mug of ale and plate whatever warm food you've got." he announced with a cold-ridden raspy voice, then sat at a table overseeing the fighting ring while he waited for his order.

Being an adventurer wasn't an easy profession, and the first order of business was getting decent and reliable partners to make for a balanced team. Hmmmm...