<span class="bbc_u"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Leigh Mac Lochlainn</span></strong></span><br/><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/M6Lf9xW.jpg)</div><br/>A young human stood in a fairly busy section of the North Docks of Tollmouth, striking quite the curious figure. He was clad in a mismatched suit of armor from the neck down. None of the pieces seemed to be from the same set of armor, though they seemed effective nonetheless. They all seemed to be a touch too large for him, as well, or perhaps they were just loose-fitting by design. Additionally, he had a hefty warhammer on his belt and a large wooden shield slung across his back, emblazoned with a storm cloud and three lightning bolts that were clearly painted by an unskilled hand. To top it all off, he wore no helm, instead having a tricorne perched atop a head of auburn hair. Altogether, it made it clear that, despite being armed and armored, a noble knight or wealthy swordsman he was not.<br/><br/>The armed youth had spent hours flagging down any passersby that would give him the time of day, which was not many to begin with, and inquiring as to the whereabouts of 'a red-painted Juanpan commercial carrack with a hound fixed on the bow and stitched into the foremast's sail.' Unfortunately, he had little and less luck. The only information he had received were bits and pieces he had already known from months and months ago. He cursed under his breath and turned upon a heel to make his way through the docks. He knew of a tavern nearby where he may have better luck finding information, as it was frequented by sailors.<br/><br/>Failing that, maybe there would be other work to be had.<br/><br/>Leigh made his way to<em>the Whiskered Squid</em>quickly, with a definite purpose to his step. He was probably the only patron that could say as much, thinking about it. As he arrived, he slipped across the threshold into the bustling tavern, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmed lighting. The bard's music met his ears, and brought memories of singing and shanties to mind. He frowned at the thought, but turned his attention back to observing the inn for anything worthy of note or anybody that seemed unoccupied enough to bother with questioning.