Arijen Eldjarn: 100G
[hider=Inventory]
Head: Cloth hood
Chest: Woven cloth-chainmail hybrid
Gauntlets: N/A
Pants: Cloth pants
Greaves: N/A
Feet: Simple boots
Melee: 2x Bronze shortsword
Ranged: 10x Bronze throwing knives
x1 Chocolate Milk
x1 Tinned sardines
Revive Tome
Magic Pickaxe
Rope
Torch
[/hider]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/65204/posts/ooc?page=3#post-2027315]Backstory[/url]

Arijen opened the wooden door, to reveal a cacophony of music, singing and chatter, once his eyes had adjusted to the bright surroundings, he slowly began to take in the sights and sounds of this strange place. He stepped forward tentitively, understanding that he was on the second floor of a building of somekind, overlooking a vast plaza with a gathering of people. Intrigued, he returned to his adopted abode and collected his things, feeling reassured by his twin bronze blades that now rested by his waist. He once again looked at the mysterious note on the desk, before placing it into his pocket and began heading down towards the plaza.

Upon arrival on the plaza edge, he glanced back to the building he had descended and realised it was a tavern named 'The Flaming Dagger', from which there appeared to be some sort of commotion inside, yet he continued briskly towards the center of the square when a large group of people had begun to congregate. Upon closer inspection they were throwing small, silver medallions into the fountain, watched over by a large stone figure. Although the atmosphere was jovial, there was an underlying thickness to the air and people seemed somewhat cautious in their movements. Arijen looked up towards a large towering structure that he instantly recognised, 'The Citadel of Zorrowdawn', and felt an air of relief now that he was aware of his location. 

At first it had not been apparent, but there was a distinct divide between those in the plaza, the majority of them were Nords like himself, characterised by their stark blue eyes and fair hair, yet some did not fit it, wearing imposing metal chestplates and were shrouded in dark blue cloaks, no doubt concealing weapons of some kind. A noise caught his attention as he wheeled round to face the tavern, the commotion had broken onto the street and a crown began to form. Slipping into the shadows, Arijen watched attentively from a distance.