[center][h2][color=fffc96]Andvari[/color][/h2][/center]

His arrival at Seren's Folly had been anything but pompous. The place Andvari usually lived at - Oriel's palace - was several hundred miles from the village and finding efficient means of transport was quite a little more difficult in his case. After a few traders and travelers had given him a ride on their wagons his luck had ultimately ran out, leaving him with nothing else than his very feet to propel him forwards. His supplies, weapons and other stuff ? Packed into a small cart dragged behimd him. Maybe a bit unorthodox, but much more comfortable than actually carrying all that stuff for an undetermined amount of time. At least the weather had held, allowing him to get into the village in a very tired, but clean condition.

The only problem had been the fact that the average villager wasn't exactly responsive when it came to giving advice to a bloody newcomer in the middle of the night. Andvari had been left to his own devices, resulting in him putting up his tent at a spot that he merely [i]had thought[/i] to be a good one. Still a large tent was much more functional for him than a room in the tavern: It cost a huge lot less, he didn't have to worry about making a mess, and there wasn't any furniture he'd either break or feel uncomfortable with. A simple hammock could be quite advantageous...

By now all of this had happened almost a day earlier during which Andvari had been able to get  rid of most of his sleep deprivation. Now he was left to wonder if his father's description of [i]Witches' Paradise[/i] as an 'incredibly rough place' had actually been meant as an ironic way of saying 'Make getting there your first priority!' instead. While his limbs still felt somewhat sore from the extensive journey, Andvari felt well enough to find out. He had no idea about the recent events in Goldencrest and the impact it had on everyone else.

With a slight limp he trudged towards the place. The large sign was in plain sight, but so was that he once again would have to crouch in order to get in. Even before his hand was able to push the door open completely a surge of odours overwhelmed his nose: Smoke, roasted meat, sweat, but most dominantly alcohol of various kinds. He moved in, trying not to stare at any of the anonymous patrons while expecting the majority of them to stare at him. A slight, but noticeable surge of cold sweat ran down Andvari's spine as he realized that somebody in there might very well be old enough to have known his father. Would anyone theorize about him then ?

He picked up a stool and sat down carefully, trying to find out if the aged wood would actually support him. The next step was to politely ask for a beer. A small portion would have to suffice until he'd have been able to find out if the stuff here was actually worth the money - one could never know. While waiting for his request to be fulfilled Andvari could hardly do anything else than look around and see who else was here. He didn't know any of them.