Not long after, a tall figure swathed in sable traveler's clothes swoops into the inn. His presence is forbidding; the belts of pouches about his waist and his manner mark him as a mage, or at least as a charlatan pretending to be one.<br/><br/>He keeps his cloak's cowl raised high to conceal his visage as he scans the room, taking note of the odd, pristine-robed gnome girl in particular, but speaking to no one as he makes his way across the room to present the barkeep-- presumably the owner, and, if not him, to retrieve the owner instead-- with the crest he was given. Perhaps he is in a hurry. Perhaps he is curious about the assignment. Perhaps he does not care for the music, or for the company, or even both. Whatever the reason, though, the man wastes no time.