Perhaps much to this particular fellow's disdain, there were yet no such attractive females to be found awaiting his arrival. Rather, there was but one who stood at the gates of the realm, and quite the opposite of the former type was he at that. A behemoth of a man, well weathered from battles too numerous to be spoken, garbed in tattered traveler's cloak of ashen cloth and bearing subtle jaded warmth upon his rugged visage as his gaze lifts upon the newcomer.
"Yo, welcome to the shack where all yer dreams are sure to come true... or whatever. Actually, don't get yer hopes up," the vagabond 'greeter' bellows in dry attempt at humor.