[center][h2][color=888888][b]Maltar[/b][/color][/h2][/center]
[center][color=888888]Spirit of the Beast[/color][/center]
[hr]

	His pack was light. His weapons were housed in their places. Drenched in a tattered attired of a leather coat, gray undertunic, patched dark-leather trousers and black scuffed boots, Maltar stood outside across and down the street from the tavern. He had been there in the darker shadows of a straggly tarmar tree watching at the entrance of the Lock and Key for an hour or two, assessing those who would come and go. Though his physical size was intimidating, it was fortunate that his unkempt appearance presented himself as no one more than a common wanderer of the lands. 

The rain didn’t bother Maltar. Being a hunter of animals, monsters, and monsters of men, had him spend much of his life in the wilds. He was desensitized to the elements. He enjoyed the rain. The weighed chill of the water rippling down his clothes made it feel like he was dissolved in the dreary night ambience of the street, unnoticed on the most part by those who may pass by. 

Maltar didn’t like crowds, but that wasn’t the reason he hadn’t entered the tavern yet. As a formidable hunter, it was good to be cautious. Normally, a tavern wouldn’t fall into a category of caution, and it wasn’t like looming about outside of taverns was a hobby, that would be odd, but Maltar hadn’t wound up at the Lock and Key by chance or casual wandering. He’d been led there by a cryptic trail of indicators to the possible location of the only two people that meant anything to him in this world. No, Maltar didn’t believe that Thoren and Marya were in the tavern. He suspected the tavern would provide little more than just another piece to the puzzle but, under the circumstances, assessing the outside situation before entering seemed reasonable.  

It was after he saw a cloaked woman with an Elvian energy enter the tavern, followed shortly thereafter by a sturdy combative-looking human male, that Maltar’s insight stirred within him. He felt a sense of undefined connection between to the two strangers. Though the sense of connection between them was vague at best, it brought with it the notion that they were also connected to his own quest in some way. Provoked by this sense of intuition, Maltar waited a short while longer before crossing the street to the Lock and Key. 

[hr]

	Maltar refrained from revealing his destain for the boisterous crowd as the tavern door shut behind him. He swiped his hand down his face to rid himself of excess water and took a moment to familiarize himself with the room. The Elvian woman and Human male he’d seen enter a while earlier were not in the barroom. It didn’t take long to establish an association to their absence by the presence of the Governor’s son. Dorian, a familiar face to many. The gleam of his privileged, icy blue eyes soon locked on Maltar’s from across the room. The men's stares remained locked for a few seconds, before Dorian stood from his seat at the table to approach Maltar as he too made his way across the barroom. 

The two men met with a quiet understanding by the bar. The Governor’s son presented a narrowed grin of amused interest toward the tall Elvian male before tossing his head and turning to lead the way. Inexpressive, Maltar followed him into a back room. 

As suspected, the half-Elvian woman was there, her now lowered hood revealing her fiery locks and penetrating green eyes of an obvious druid countenance. Of course, the human man who had entered the tavern close behind the woman was there as well, his Fighter's vibe now solid as his physical form. It became quickly obvious that more than just another set of clues were awaiting Maltar at the Lock and Key. The reasons for the connection he had earlier sensed between the Elvian woman and the Human became apparent. They were there for the same reason Maltar was. Maltar was disappointed that his quest had resulted in the pending companionship of others. He considered walking out and continuing his quest alone, but the requirement to establish understanding of this situation made him stay. At least for now. 

Maltar nodded to Dorian, who then left to return to his place at his table in the barroom. The door closed in his wake. Maltar casually assessed the furnishings and items while making his way toward the far side of the room. Preferring to stand for now, he took position near a desk and bookshelf and pocketed his hands in his coat. Not showing his regret for the need to become acquainted with the two strangers, he regarded the woman and then the man with an unassuming look. He would wait to be spoken to before speaking.