Arandur had quietly entered into town, his messy hair going quite a long length to hide the slight, anomalous tip to his ears; he did not have the long, slender ears of an elf, but his were noticeably more pronounced than a human due to his mixed heritage... something about himself he despises, despite his inability to have any sort of control over the situation. Not that many people mistook him for an elf or half breed; he was pretty damn stocky, and his gruff exterior was typically enough to make people just assume he was human.<br/><br/>His pony was led along behind him, burdened enough with his traveling gear and some small treasures  that he did not wish to also make it carry his own weight.  It was with a frown both wary and weary that he walked around the town, paying close attention to the words on everybody's lips. The whole town seemed to be pumped full of adrenaline, and all this talk about 'purging' and 'holy war' had him on edge...not that he outwardly showed it much. Arandur was a stoic.<br/><br/>He found himself growing curiouser about what was going on--forewarned is forearmed-- so, like many people, he found himself congregating around the gardens, though he kept to the fringes; not only because he was relatively late in arriving, but also because it was safer there, for him and his pony.