<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Irisandd Mott</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/thetragicfragments/naked_truth_by_anndr-d36e6o8.jpg)</div></div></div>Iris had never been to Cherrywood before, having only heard of it in flea-infested dog pits and dank hovels of pubs in the capital. It was rather mysterious and alluring, when heard of spoken under the breath of two hooded figures, huddled close - but in reality, it was disappointingly normal. A scattering of houses, with several larger establishments that were the sorry little cesspit’s heart blood. Hard to believe it was the hub of criminal activity. Every little village he had passed through had boasted a pub and a brothel... true, one catering just for those with a taste for elf men was a brow-raiser, but not unique.<br/><br/>Perhaps there was more here than met the eye... Iris had no patience to discover what that might be, however. He had been on the road for two weeks tracking his mark, and he was hungry and his bones ached from being in the saddle constantly, and his stank like a troll’s washcloth.<br/><br/>“With all haste” Sennash’s balls. He was going to have a bath before he went looking for his mark. His dust coloured horse gave a sigh as he nudged it with his heels, urging it towards the pub.