Adrian sat at an empty table inside the tavern, minding his own business. In front of him laid his family's heirloom, a old dagger. He fiddled with it in his hands, as he surveyed the tavern. A man had just burst into the Mast, looking fairly suspicious. There were two men talking in the corner of the tavern, where one had previous been sitting with a sign that Adrian didn't know how to read. Adrian's eyes slumped back down to his dagger, and he continued to fiddle with it in his hands. Thoughts began to race through his head, back to his family. He began to wonder if he had made the right decision to abandon his family. A solemn look overtook Adrian's face as he sat, still as a tree. He had left the safety of his family, and entered a world that was on the verge of fire. This is what he wanted, though, right? He wanted the thrill of danger and adventure. He didn't want the boring safety of status quo. He wanted to have sword fights, and have a crossbow aimed at his head. He didn't wanted the life of warm meals, and comfort. He wanted to live rough and hard. He wanted to become a legend. A man whom lived off the land, who slayed bandits by the wagon load, who helped all those in need, to be the good hero this world deserves. He wouldn't be able to achieve that if he was sitting comfortably in his family's holdfast.
Adrian's eyes drifted back up to the tavern, still fiddling with the dagger in his has. He contemplated joining the men at the table at the far end of the bar. He could inquire about the sign, and perhaps join in in whatever adventure the two men were playing. Adrian shifted in his chair, moving his fur cloak slightly to the side, revealing his skinny frame underneath. Adrian's blood began to boil, and rush, as he thought about all the adventures and quests he could go on with the two men whom looked far more experienced than he. The both of them had obviously been around the world, and see some things. Maybe he could even squire for one of them. Older adventurers were always looking to take on a young ward in order to take care of all the small chores for them. Adrian slowly stood up from the table, sheathing his dagger, and walking up to the bar, and taking a seat on the stool. Adrian luckily looked far older than he was, although he didn't possess any facial hair. This was mainly due to his height, and how he towered over most people. As one of the barmaids came to take Adrian's order, Adrian let loose his gruffest sounding voice, 'One honeymead, please." Adrian said, raising one finger. The barmaid went off to retrieve the beverage. After a moment, the barmaid returned with Adrian's glass of honeymead. Adrian's blood rushed, again, for a moment. He had never drank before, but now was his chance. As Adrian drank from the normally sweet drink, he had not anticipated it being as sour as it was. Adrian instinctively spat the drink back up, covering the entire counter of the bar in front of him with a layer of honeymead. Other patrons of the Mast, that were sitting at the bar, began to give Adrian the stink eye.