Where Othen originated from nobody would ever have thought about building anything like Eversong. Way too much noble metal, marble and other white stone whose polished surfaces were crying out for everlasting cleaning action and careful handling. Way too much in terms of confining nature to arbitrarily chosen bounds with decorated river banks, luxurious bridges and probably quite a lot of other stuff Othen had not even discovered so far. Maybe even just way too much of everything. It wasn't that he'd despise the inhabitants of Eversong for anything of this, but his people just would not feel comfortable here and neither did he to a considerable degree.

Where Othen's people lived things were kept much closer to nature for the sake of simplicity and disguise. His people did not know about the kingdom's true military strength, but given what kind of style its towns and citites featured they assumed it had to be very significant -- too significant for what they themselves could have established on the field of battle. There was absolutely no interested in any offensive action, but neither was there any interested in a defensive one. They had decided to stay hidden in their remote, but vast refuge many centuries ago and so far that plan had played out quite well.

This didn't mean though that they tried to avoid any contact at all, in fact Othen himself was the proof of the very opposite. He was a scout, someone sent in disguise in order to enter the kingdom's heartland, make contact with other scounts, exchange information and extract them along with his own return. There clearly was no better place for this than Eversong, but this evening he was not on duty so to speak. His stay in the [i]Griffin's Wing[/i] was a purely private affair as he simply had wanted to try out how things were in one of those large taverns.

It was safe to say that, in full spite of his disguise, Othen still stuck out like a sore thumb. The man had wrapped himself into rough and thick linen that already had lost quite a bit of its white color, but there was nothing he could do against the tattoos in his face. The more or less fine black lines and patterns, along with the fact that his skin seemed to be thick and hardened from prolonged exposure to a traveler's environment, were blatantly visible. No hair was to be seen on his scalp so it was both tanned and tattooed, too. His body appeared to be very thick and massive, his thighs bulging over the chair's edge on both sides while his broad shoulders forced other people to the sides a bit. He not only was a scout, but also a warrior. One of the brute strength sort who put it to the extreme, but with that linen on top one could also have thought of him being a little fat.

A small tankard rested on the table in front of him and Othen looked at its contents as if he had just been insulted by them. Well... his tongue certainly had been. How could those people here drink this stuff ? Beer was a mystery he currently was absolutely unwilling to solve by continuing to consume it, so his eyes started to just stare at the front door of the main hall he was sitting in. Othen's thoughts slowly drifted away to other things...