[h1]  [center] [color=f7941d][u][b]Micah Aarseth [/b][/u][/color] [/center] [/h1]

The door of the tavern swung open; a short lanky looking figure slowly stumbled his way into the tavern. A noticeable part of the figure’s attire was a well-preserved goat head that was being worn like a mask; other patrons would wonder why the figure was trying to hide his face. “We would like a glass of your coldest milk please” The figure rummaged through his robes before slamming down some gold pieces onto the tavern table. 

His robes were tattered with many holes; perhaps this mage was not maintaining his wardrobe. Or perhaps he had recently been in a difficult battle; escaping with only his life. The figure looked around at the other patrons; keeping his long staff close to him. He seemed paranoid of everyone around him; and rightfully so because of what he just experience a few hours ago.