Outside the cheery inn, the wind blew hard. A storm was coming. Narry a traveler could be seen on the road, for all were indoors, enjoying hot drinks around the fire.
All except one. A young man, fair and tall with short blond hair, strode purposefully toward the lighted inn. He was dressed in black from head to toe, including his tough leather boots. Under his tunic was concealed a hard mail coat, that could resist even the sharpest arrow.
At his side the strange man wore a simple long broad-sword, but across his back two long knives were sheathed: his deadly throwing weapons, the mattocks. Reaching the inn door, he read the sign hanging above the door. The Green Dragon Inn. Just the place a dwarf would be...
With that he entered the building, slipping in with the skill of a trained assassin; making no noise and drawing no glances. Laying his sword aside, he concealed his knives under his belt and walked over the bar. As to not look conspicious, he ordered a drink, but only sipped at it a little; as he was not thirsty.
When the bartender brought him his drink, Kaldon, (for that was his name), leaned over the counter and spoke to him quietly.
"Sir, I happen to have an important message for a dwarf which I believe to be inside this inn. Have you seen one, perhaps?"
The burly man wiped his hands on a old, frayed towel before answering. "There's lots 'o dwarves inside the Green tonight, young man. Now let me see... there was one dwarf near the back of the inn awile ago, caused a right old uproar he did! He was over there," (he pointed across the room), "sitting at one of those back tables."
Kaldon paid for his drink, and slipped the bartender a healthy tip. "Thank you for the information." Eyeing the gold piece in his hand, the man commented that it was no problem at all; but Kaldon had already disappeared.
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