The patter of rainfall masked the sound of a horse-drawn cart wandering northwards on the longroad. The driver, comfortably shielded from the rain in a large, hooded cloak, kept a wary eye ahead of himself. With every passing moment, they grew that much nearer towards Valuun Keep, and the cart-driver's anxiety and dread grew with it. His sole passenger, however, was a stone wall in comparison. Obscured by a leather and steel helmet, the passenger's face betrayed no hint of worry, nor any joy. He remained quietly seated on the floor of the cart, nestled between two barrels of dried goods on either side of the man. Rain pelted against his steel in a quieted melody, beading up on the leather of the man's armor before trickling down.

"Mr. Stahlwurm! Hey, Serkan!" Called out the driver, raising his voice a little to sound over the deluge, "We are nearly at Night-Raven Inn. I can take you there but I will not go any further! If you wish to visit that damned keep I apologize, but you will have to find your own way!"

At last, the man clad in leather and steel lifted his head, the faintest hint of blue eyes visible through the visor of the helmet. The driver had promised to give the passenger a ride north in exchange for some assistance in unloading some goods at an inn along the way. The passenger could hear the quivering fear hidden in the driver's words, and yet when the passenger himself opened his mouth to speak, he was far calmer, if a bit curt, "That will not be a problem."

Serkan slowly lifted himself to look over the edge of the cart. There, visible as a blurred shadow in the grey of heavy rainfall was the inn, and looming behind it, an even greater shadow. Through the rain and at this distance, the details of Valuun Keep were not yet visible; from here, it existed as a darkened shadow that blot out a fogged landscape, a dreary pinnacle amongst a dreary land. It was not a long wait until the driver took them off the longroad to pull the cart beside the inn, the workhorse huffing when allowed a moment's rest. The driver jumped down from his seat and walked over to take the horse over to the stables, while Serkan was already moving a barrel filled with grain off of the cart and towards the cellar door tucked behind the inn. It was quick work, Serkan and the driver rolled a half-dozen barrels of food and drink down to the cellar door, for the inn-workers to pick up and take inside.

Their work completed, the driver hurried around the inn to get into shelter and to get his pay for the delivery of goods, but Serkan returned to the cart to retrieve his belongings. He lifted up a cloth bag filled with necessities and a long, narrow object protectively and preciously wrapped in a cotton tarp to keep the rain from touching it. Serkan leisurely made his way to enter the inn through the front door, even with the rain beating down on him there was no sense of urgency in his stride; he bore every cold, wet drop, embraced it.

At last, Serkan pressed through the doors and was greeted by a wave of warmth and the aroma of roasting pork. His shoulders relaxed a little as he shook his bag off, rainwater dripping free. However, the low moan of a person in agony caught Serkan's attention, and he directed his gaze towards the bar to his left, where a pile of four men and broken furniture lied scattered. The cart driver stood not too far ahead, a dumbfounded look had overtaken his face. Serkan slowly drew near him, asking "What happened?"

"Ah, those loons tried to pick on some big guy, that man was a wall of muscle, I tell you," the cart-driver ran his head over his thinning head of hair, "Anyway, no need to worry. Don't think they'll be bothering anyone for a while, they certainly learned their lessons."

Serkan looked at the damage that had been caused with one last glance, before dismissing it. He reached up to unlatch the claps which help his helmet secure, removing the helmet to free a head of wild, black hair, and revealing a pair of sharp, alert eyes. Two large, pointed ears stood on either side of his head, revealing his nature as a half-elf. Serkan reached into his bag and retrieved enough money to pay for a single night's stay, gently lying it on the wooden countertop with a dull, metallic thud to get the innkeeper's attention, "I need a room for the night, please."

The innkeeper nodded and took the money, turning to retrieve a key. The cart-driver reached up to place his hand on He leaned forwards, "Are you still heading up to that place? You know what they say-"

"I already have heard, but I'm still going. Nothing is going to change that," Serkan was adamant in his resolve, "Safe travels on your return."

The cart-driver sighed, knowing there was no convincing the half-elf otherwise, "Thank you."

The innkeeper soon after returned with the key to a room; Serkan nodded in thanks and departed, ascending the steps to find his room. Once safely inside, the half-elf removed his armor piece by piece, setting them aside to allow them to dry. He sat down on the bed, and lifted the long, narrow object wrapped in cotton tarp onto his lap, tugging the twine to open the wrapping and reveal a sword set in a leather sheath with steel furnishings. Serkan turned his head downwards as he clutched the weapon, muttering under his breath, "I'm here, Ferran..."