Derral stalked the town, his hands in his pockets, or sometimes some one elses, and moved to the inn, intent on getting something other than rations before he went hunting for the supposed 'Tomb of Horrors'. He laughed aloud, and his familiar, a pseudodragon, landed on his shoulder to chirp a question at him. He laughed at his familiar, and stepped into the tavern, right as the innkeep opened for the morning. He ordered a meal, with some extra meat and fruit for his familiar, and paid up front for the meal, instead of as the meal arrived.<br/><br/>He brushed his brown hair out of his face, and sat at a table, knowing once the sun was high, he would be off, to secure his place in the legends as one of the best arcane thieves to ever walk this sorry world. And by the gods, the only reason he would be a mere legend would be because he had not swiped his own godhood. He laughed to himself, and mused that he had everything he would need to get the job done, short of a few others to help with his adventure.