<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c0/94/c1/c094c1241eeca14cf26cb640ed1adc46.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Faelyn Mythrandir (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=307047.msg15150856#msg15150856)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Tavern, corner table<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Leather armor and boots beneath heavy winter cloak of white furs<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Listening for activity<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>Chasing rumors of strange weather patterns, Faelyn arrived on the island a number of weeks before.  She has spent her days in the surrounding forest searching for any clues for obvious signs of tampering, however perhaps due largely part to her unwillingness to wander in unknown, potentially unfriendly territory alone in the dark she has so far been unable to find any proof giving any substantial information on where to search the next day.  She has to find a needle in a hayfield, but she felt confident that if it is out there to find, eventually her eye will catch it.<br/><br/>Her nights have been spent in the tavern listening to the ramblings of locals for the hope of finding clues regarding her mission.  She knew from recent talk that more people were due to arrive soon, and rather than keep beating her head against an unyielding wall, she would wait to see what these newcomers may know.  All sailors eventually make their way towards a stiff drink eventually, and when they do, they tend to talk loudly of the journey.