The imposing stone walls of the city were a welcome sight for Fenneil the blacksmith as he pushed himself on, wanting so much to just sit down and rest after the difficult trek he had undertaken from the last city. He had been making his way from town to town and city to city for a few years now. But for Fenneil, it had felt like so much longer, trying to find the cause of his village's destruction at the hands of unseen assailants. The quest had been hopelessly fruitless, no one had heard of anything like that. Some had called him mad for asking of such things, others thought he was a drunkard, believing his own nightmares to be the reality of his life. It had worn him down like time does to a mountain, soon nothing would be left of his energy... Fenneil would not give up yet, there were still many places to seek out what he desired to know. But for now, the smithy wanted to find some rest for his aching and exhausted body.<br/><br/>Only a little bit into the city, Fenneil was stopped by a rather imposing city guard, the defender towering over the simple man. The guard pointed to Fenneil's blades, which sat safely in their sheaths. Fenneil flinched, having never met a more imposing figure.<br/><br/>"Halt, Traveler! You must bind your weapons within their sheaths if you wish to remain in this city! The citizens must remain safe, and I have no idea what kind of<em>scum</em>you are, commoner." The guard said with disdain, glaring at the smithy through the visor in his helmet. He grabbed the hilt of his own weapon, as if expecting Fenneil to resist.<br/><br/>"Ah ain't done nothing wr-! Fine! Ah'll do it,"Fenneil grumbled, taking two pieces of small rope and tieing them deftly around the hilts of both his blades, keeping them bound within their sheaths. They would not be able to harm innocents now, or be used to protect their owner."There? Is it alright now?"He grumbled again, only to notice the guard had walked off after the smithy had tied his weapons up. He didn't have the decency to at least see through the order he gave to somebody!<br/><br/>"Bastard likes ta' throw his weight....Ugh, just another thing wrong..."Fenneil muttered dejectedly as he began to walk the streets of the city, the stress of his undertaking bringing him down to feeling miserably alone once more.'Ah just...need a drink, is all. That oughta pick mah spirits up.' Fenneil thought, his eyes looking for any sign of a tavern or inn. He didn't care how rough it would be at this point, he just needed a place to drink and restore his spirit in his undertaking.<br/><br/>The first place that caught his tired green eyes was a place called the "Fiddler's Den". It had a nice name, to be sure, but the smithy knew that looks could be quite deceiving, especially when it came to places that let people drink. Cautiously, as if expecting to walk into a bar fight, Fenneil entered the inn, whatever may be inside.<br/><br/>"This a....interestin' sight...."Fenneil spoke softly after staring in wonder at the scene before him. It seemed a barroom brawl had already ripped it's way through the common room of the Fiddler's Inn. While none of the tables or stools seemed to have been devastated in the disaster, it seemed quite a number of clay pots did not survive. It also seemed everyone had spilled their drinks, leaving it uncleaned in little puddles all about the room. The more strange thing about this scene was that there were only three people left. A dwarf who had looked stronger then any man Fennreil had ever seen before, and seemed to have all the right scars to prove it, a rather portly human man, and a very beautiful human woman. Fenneil looked to the three then back to all the messes around the room before taking a step from the doorway to into the room, doing what he would do for anyone who looked to have a bit of trouble.<br/><br/>Offer his help in the matter.<br/><br/>"Ya'll need some help?"He asked, hands on his hips and a tired but warm smile on his face.<br/><br/><br/>