The tavern lent the outside world near its doors a faint, yet all too familiar smell of alcohol and heat. The scant light escaping through shuttered windows diffused even more by the now torrential downpour outside, was like a beacon on the street and many of the hasty travelers eyed the establishment with envy for its safety and the comfort it would bring. Though many would carry on with their affairs and brush the cozy interior from their mind soon enough, many others would step in for but a few moments and escape the dreary darkness of the outside world. Even if for but a moment.<br/><br/>There at the doorway; like so many noisy crickets at the corner of a darkened room: Just out of reach and yet so loud its deafening, several highwaymen did seem to congregate. As a  unit or a team; perhaps as a party, the group spoke in turn and moved according to their supposed rank in whatever organization they were a part of. Their leader was made obvious from his position at the head of the would be pack, whilst the others reigned in their boisterous and demeaning comments regarding the accomodations within. The odd accents, layered attire, and unhidden superiority complexes of some in the group surely would draw both ire and attention from locals and travelers alike...<br/><br/>But it all meant little to the flitting shadow of a man who wove through the darkness of the slowly closing door and danced along the edge of perception to the darkest corner possible. There the man; one hand firmly clasped around a purse of silver and gold, with eyes of a sickly green, paid the group a great deal of attention as he hid amongst the shadows and waited. He was not one to confront or be confronted by such armed and dangerous individuals, but neither was he a fan of standing in the rain waiting for them to take seats away from the entry. Standing no more than a mere five feet four inches tall; jet black hair cut down to his scalp and scars weaving about his body like intricate tattoos, and wrapped in a dark wool cloak now absolutely soaked from tip to toe, the rogue would wait in silent for his nerves to settle.