As the young man reached the stables of the Green Dragon Inn, he smelled the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen. He was not tall by human standards, but he was finely built in musle and had a firm jaw. His black traveling cloak covered a leather breastplate with a horse embroidered upon it, common to the Riders of the Rohirrm. A shortsword was strapped to his side, as well as a long dirk. On his back he wore a quiver and shortbow, and his leather greaves were stained with mud. The famed inn was bustling as he walked in, people moved about waking and shaking sleep from their eyes. He moved carefully, ducking passing serving maids and dodging groggy adventurers.
"Sir, would you like a room?" a man asked.
"Yes, but I do not know how long I will be staying."
"Alright, may I ask your name?"
"My name is Palin, Palin Viccus. And m'am," Palin asked as the woman turned to leave, "may I get some food as well?"
"Certainly," the innkeeper said as she shuffled off to check on other guests. So, this is where I will start my adventures he thought. He was passed a plate of bacon, bread and a cool ale. He downed the meal in moments and pulled the cowl of his black cloak over his eyes, and slowly he drifted off to sleep.
|