A tawny Sun Elf makes her way slowly down the road.  Though the trip has been long, she remains unbowed under the weighty scales of her armor and the heavy burden of a kite shield broader and taller than her torso.  A spear held in one hand serves as something of a makeshift walking stick, supporting her upright posture as she pauses along the path to regard the ceremony underway in the cemetery, squinting against the wary eyes of the townsfolk.  An ill-feeling breeze shifts her long, straw-blonde locks during the exchange of glances, spurring her onward into the city.<br/><br/>Selendriel proceeds without hesitation to the Tanned Tankard.  Unaccustomed to the etiquette and mannerisms of both humans and civilians in general, the rather stern and bellicose-looking eladrin both avoids and actively repels small talk and niceties; something in the direct way she moves and no-nonsense demeanor with which she carries herself leaves little invitation to petty distractions.  Though, the social awkwardness seems to be a two-way street, as once she has arrived at the tavern she finds herself casting furtive glances about in search of individuals who might suit the descriptor "Old" Ben, perhaps too bashful or wary of the strangers therein to come forward and ask immediately.