It was barely two months into his journey, and already, [url= http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/108816]Jagred[/url] had experienced some difficulties. The worst and most pressing of them was probably his coin purse, or more specifically, the lack thereof. It all started with a pint of free ale and the promise from the innkeeper that it could hardly give him buzz. Afterward, he could only assume he had downed a keg or two, got into a brawl, broke someone’s jaw, then lost his coin purse somewhere along the way. Fortunately, the rest of his belongings remained untouched, so he still had enough rations to carry on this far, after the innkeeper kicked him out. The next few weeks had been hard. Jobs were hard to come by, since the folks down south didn’t seem to need his services that often. Nice people, but thanks to them, he might starve to death. Without a proper bow, he could barely feed himself while traveling through these woods, and traps only got him so far. 

 However, coins weren’t his biggest concern at the moment. 

 He was looking for a quaint little village somewhere south of Vish. The name had completely escaped him, but with the trees thinning and animals growing scarce, he knew that civilization wasn’t too far away. If what that innkeeper said was anything to be believed, it would be just a tiny village, a perfect place for him to get his next meal ticket without any fear from the local militia, should the need for less legal methods ever arose. However, as a personal code, he would like to stay on the good side of the law as much as possible. Without the Reaverrend Company at his back, he had to cut down on the killing, or else the result could prove to be quite fatal. Try to play nice, his father would have said. Well, that easy said than done.

 The village, as it turned out, wasn’t as small as he was led to believe. Netherless, it was too late to turn around now. He would have to make do. Adjusting the heavy cloak around his shoulder, Jagred strolled down into the village, as casual as a simple farmer who had just returned from a day of hard work. Some villagers turned their eyes when he walked past, and he could see the suspicion in them. Not outright hostility though, so that probably meant they didn’t see many Draconians around these parts. His kind had managed to mingle quite well with most races, especially humans, but sometimes, the horns and split pupils still made folks nervous. He didn’t mind the attention, really, as long as they didn’t go overbroad with it. Last time an idiot called him a demon and attempted to correct that with holy water, his temper had really flared. Luckily, most of the villagers didn’t seem to have anything of that sort planned. They provided him with directions to the nearest inn when asked, only squirmed a little while doing so. And when he finally decided to head off, they barely glared. 

 Maybe those questions were unnecessary, after all. He could basically taste the stench of stale ale and sweaty bodies in the air as soon as the establishment came into view. He paused for a moment at the door, quirking an eyebrow at the sign, then proceeded to open the door and step inside. The odor was even worse, but he doubted screaming that fact in the face of its owner would change anything, so he kept quiet, glancing around the tavern in search for an empty seat. And right then, a group of men caught his eyes. They had a card game going on, the wooden table was littered with cards, chipped mugs filled with some murky liquid that might be what passed for alcohol around here and of course, shiny coins. He smirked then, a ghostly twitch of his lips that was barely there. Walking briskly toward said table, he removed the heavy backpack, placing it at his feet, did the same for his cloak, before taking a seat. The men all turned to look at him then, confusion and annoyance lined their features. Holding their gazes, he offered a half smile, then spoke up. 

 “It looks like you’re missing a player. Mind if I join?” 

 While the men was still too busy sharing glances and talking between themselves, he sat back, one hand reached into the hidden pocket of his coat for the spare deck of cards. Good thing he had changed into this long sleeve shirt beforehand.