<div class="floatright">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hmvqx2TQ0ik/TFxqamUmFsI/AAAAAAAABOc/0Y6ET1Q00nc/s1600/anime_boy1.jpg)</div>A quiet figure, face shrouded in a deeply hooded cloak rocked slowly over a cup of water. They had paid their keep for a few days, so the barman didn't kick them out for loitering or for taking a place--and for another reason. Soft sounds came from the figure, at times rising and falling like a restless sea, at others arguing with unheard voices. Some say that madness is contagious, and while no one here wanted to catch it, the crossbow at one side marked them an adventurer,and adventurers can be a tricky bunch who can burn out a town if you look at one the wrong way.<br/><br/>Mirran had been staying with at the inn now for a couple of days. The voices had told him to be patient to wait. Enough, he would argue, that time had come and passed, and he should be on his way. He didn't want to stay here, people kept giving him strange looks he said, and soon they would turn on him if he stayed too long, just as they had in all the other places he'd passed since he left the orphanage. Almost, almost, almost time, the voices whispered in his ear, and his rocking grew more furious, its motion more violent, though still contained in his fragile form. How much longer would the voices make him, force him, tell him to stay here?<br/><br/>And suddenly, they stopped. The world was quiet for a few instants as a heavy baritone broke the silence. His eyes widened slowly. Was this what they had told him to wait for? But they were quiet now, quiet for the first time in years. By all the gods, what a release. Mirran sobbed quietly into his cloak, the muffled sounds sounding perhaps more like a cough. He looked up, his eyes tracking the half-orc, his mouth open in a perfect 'O' as he watched him carefully.