Khoran canters up on a sleek black horse, dismounting smoothly. The horse and his fine clothes practically reek of wealth, but the absence of jingle in his pockets suggests that he's short on money. He strolls up to Straw, coolly taking in everything around him. His manner and bearing are that of a man completely at ease, without a care in the world.

"Am I the first to arrive?"

He tosses a backpack onto the ground and lies down with his head resting on it, showing no regard for his clothes.