Hark sighed as he looked down at bags of food. Hark reached down and grabbed a twine bag. He grunted as he hefted it over his shoulder. The bag was heavy, easily 60 lbs. It felt like potatos too. With his free hand he grabbed another bag, more potatoes, and stacked it over his shoulder with the other bag. As he was grabbing the third bag a few of the other workers grabbed a bag each. Hark towered over the young men, from a distance it would look like he was making children work, just by the size difference. Hark hooked the bag under his left arm and made for the silo, taking his usual giant lumbering strides. Hark didn't appear to struggle with the weight, after all, his armor used to weigh more, and he would often march for miles up hill in it. To just about anyone Hark would appear as a normal, albeit oversized, dock worker. There were some tells that he may have been something more at certain points in his life, but Hark did his best to hide them. Nobody in this town really knew him, sure they had casually talked to him, had a few drinks with him, but nobody knew what he once was. Most of the time Hark just seemed to be lost in thought, and he often was. He always had this distant look in his eyes, as if he wasn't really there.
Out of the corner of his eye Hark saw a piece of silver jewelry on one of the wealthier citizens. The silver reminded him of home, Del Vinsenia. This somewhat uspet Hark. He didn't enjoy being reminded of what was once his home. He certainly missed the crisp mountain air. But what he missed the most was having a purpose. He would definitely have to visit the local tavern and have a few brews.