The town of Aborline appealed to Ruil's senses, it had a gentle hustle and bustle to it that encompassed Ruil as he made his way down the streets. While he did get his fair share of stares, his returning smile usually put the guards and townspeople at ease; even the halflings who were easily four to five feet below him felt a sigh of relief when their curious gazes were met with kindness instead of hostility. Various shops and merchants called out to him, promising their goods were the best, to which Ruil just smiled back and offered a wave. His ax, Freya, glistened on his back under the sun, casting shafts of reflected light on passerby's faces. Ruil reached back to pull his bear skin cloak up a bit to cover the beautifully crafted weapon.<br/><br/>A small troupe of guards passed nearby Ruil as he wandered the streets, and he turned and called out to them. The guards stopped and gazed to him, hands falling to their weapons on instinct as they all looked as one up to the big man.<br/><br/>"What is it stranger?"<br/><br/>Ruil smiled, thinking of the words in his mind before speaking them. His grasp of the common language was good, but it wasn't quite perfect yet and his thick accent sometimes made it hard to understand him. As he spoke he held his hands out to show he meant no harm and simply wanted to talk.<br/><br/>"Hello guards, I am looking for work of honorable kind, have you thoughts of any?"<br/><br/>The guards looked back and forth between each other, then laughed together at the strangers odd speech. Whispering then, they discussed what to tell the man. One guard finally broke away from the low-speech huddle and presented himself before Ruil.<br/><br/>"If you make your way towards the foundry on the east side of town, you might find work, though I doubt it would be honorable."<br/><br/>With another smile, Ruil thanked them for their time and words, then patted the guard who spoke on the back. The smaller man was unprepared and stumbled forward, nearly falling on his face in the heavy armor he wore. Ruil caught him under the shoulder before he tipped over, then righted him easily offering sincere apologies. With slightly wide eyes the guard waved him off, and the troupe moved along the street... In the opposite direction Ruil was told to go.<span style="font-weight: bold">"They do not respect you, exile."</span>Ruil nodded to himself as the ancient voice echoed in his mind in his native tongue. His answer was simply thought, but he knew she heard. "You may be right, but they provided information that I needed. Now we have direction once again." The ax on Ruil's back seemed to pulse with agreement, and at that he began to head to the foundry.<br/><br/>As he walked Ruil read aloud the various signs hanging over shops and inns, practicing his common as he did in each town he visited.<br/><br/>"The Twisted Grin.... Wilhelm's Weaponry.... Tome Time.... Burning Candle... Red Baron..."<br/><br/>As he spoke the last name, Freya chimed in,<span style="font-weight: bold">"Go in there, it has been many hours since last you ate."</span>Ruil frowned a bit, wondering why Freya felt the need to stop now when they were so close to a new leg of their journey. He had learned to listen though, knowing that generations of knowledge from his ancestors were within the ax's past. "Very well, I could use a drink."<br/><br/>Ducking underneath the doorway, Ruil entered the inn. It had a surprising assortment of people within, some chattering away excitedly. An empty table in the back beckoned to him, and Ruil made his way through the small gathering, nearly hitting his head on a deer horn chandelier. Finally he found his way to the small table and after taking off his pack and ax, he sat. A barmaid came to him, asking what he wanted.<br/><br/>"Mead, if you have it please."<br/><br/>The barmaid nodded and walked back behind the counter to get his order, leaving Ruil to dig around in his pack for his money pouch and a few provisions. He removed a half haunch of salted venison and began to tear pieces off, chewing them slowly as his green eyes cast about the room. In a few moments the barmaid returned with a tankard filled to the brim with golden mead. Ruil smiled at her and produced a half silver piece from his pouch to pay for the drink. She said it was too much, but he insisted, telling her to keep what was left. After she walked away he sat back, glad he took Freya's advice as he sipped his mead and ate his meat, watching the room about him.