Wishing to avoid the cloying scents and sights of the Orlesian port - far too bright and interesting for the Warden's simpler tastes, Vetur had been quick to gather the provisions he needed. Breads and salt-meats, but he found it surprisingly tricky to find plain bread and cured meats, as least ones that weren't also pastries or cooked with strange and unusual herbs or oils. Some had tempted him to taste a pinch, others caused his nose to wrinkle. In the end, not knowing how such things would fare over time, he stuck with what he knew: salted meats and discs of bread almost like ship's biscuits. They lasted a good long time, and were suitably filling. Still, with the provisions packed and secured, Vetur was free to leave the stalls and explore around the outer rims of Jader which were far quieter. He kept mostly to himself, occassionally nosing among the foreign goods of Orlais that caught his eye time to time.<br/><br/>When the afternoon sun was high, and Vetur felt the heat under his fur and plate, the Warden stopped by an inn and sampled several ales, which he found much lighter and sweeter than what they brewed or imported to Weisshaupt, some of which would - with some luck - find its way to his outpost. Whilst he drank, he drummed up some conversation about the incident on the Revenant, the dead drakes and mages - but it all led to dead ends. By nightfall, Vetur was deep into his cups, and paid for a room for the night. Stumbling upstairs, he tore open the window, dropped his belongings and fell face down onto the bed with a muffled clatter...<br/><br/><div align="center">*</div><br/>Shouts and the sound of tinkling steel woke the Warden. Grey eyes shot with red blinked several times to alertness. The open window was letting in the sounds from somewhere nearby, and it didn't sound friendly. He brought himself to his feet with only the slightest wobble as he reached for his longsword and axe. Years of standing watch meant investigation was in his nature. He descended the creaky stairs, stepped over the odd few drunkards that lay on the floor and slipped out the back door. Despite his armour's clinking, Vetur moved softly enough that he wasn't heard over the fight as he ventured nearer. But he heard everything. By the time the confrontation was in view, it didn't take more than a moment to decipher who Vetur ought to assist...<br/><br/>The heavy axe bit deep into the nearest bandit's skull, instantly silencing his mocking taunts at the small group that were defending themselves. The numbers were greatly against the trio, but they were holding their own - for the moment. Vetur didn't have time to examine them further, as a second bandit spun around at the sound of splintering bone, but had hardly raised his weapon before the silverite longsword was rammed through the feeble leather that covered his belly. Hilt deep, the Warden twisted the blade, dropping the bandit to his knees as he drew the bloodied blade.<br/><br/>With an echoing war cry, the Northman threw himself at the enemy's backs. Shocked at the sudden flanking attack, the bandits seemed not to know whether to press the frontal attack or defend their backs, inevitably leading to neither being done effectively. Vetur lashed out with both hands, hacking and slicing in all directions - the blood gleaming on his armour, soaking into his furs and flecking his face...