Oxguard. The finger of a clawed Red Dragonborn descends upon the surface of a worn-out piece of paper roughly sketched with a piece of charcoal as he exhaled a steamy breath of air. Other eyes peered, curious upon what was written on his rough sketch as he rolled up the paper and hid it into his coat. The caravan had been moving steadily and it was time to stop. The dragonborn knocked the wooden surface of his seat, loud enough that the coachman would hold the reins of his horse and make a stop. "End of the line, Crow Eater?" One of them asked. A smirk emerged his scaly face.

	[color=f7941d]"Just another job. I can smell it. Even in the rain."[/color] He gathered the rest of his belongings before paying his due to the coach, a total of five pure gold pieces which jiggled happily inside the coachman's pouch. [color=f7941d]"Safe travels. Bah'mut's protection aid you in your Journey."[/color] The dragonborn turned and proceeded to make his way to the entrance of Oxguard. The rain rendered the village completely barren of life. Doors were closed and no visible light could be seen protruding from the windows of the residential area. The only light to welcome him was the sight of what seems to be the village's one and only tavern or inn.

	The perfect place where jobs would be ripe.

	The trickle of water was cold to the touch. His hood was no longer providing the dry cover that he needed to remain comfortable and paced himself quickly to the entrance of the tavern with a loud slam of the door. The audience were already captivated in his direction. [color=f7941d]"What did I do?"[/color] The dragonborn exclaimed. [color=f7941d]"I just arrived here!"[/color] He snarled, perhaps failing to have noticed the warrior after him and the goliath.