Oxaenn was at the bar of the Riverwood Inn, drinking. He could have had any drink in the tavern, but he chose the cheap stuff. It dulled his thoughts, and meant he didn't think about the events that ruined him, both mentally and socially. The people around him were just grey blurs, none of them could compare to the men he knew. They all had the same smell, of people who spent their lives doing nothing of note. That is, until a Dovakin walked into the inn. He remembered the smell, the smell of dragons and glory, the smell of power. He turned around on his stool and looked at the Dovakin. He was blurred slightly, but he could see that he wore leather armor and wielded two swords. He raised his mug to the newcomer, and said to him;
"What's a grand adventurer like you doing in a flearidden cesspit like this place?" he gave a wolf like grin to the man, suggesting to everyone he was more drunk than he actually was.