Saun 1, 716
The Ye Olde Inn was Comfortable and cozy, bustling with travelers and residents. Many fireplaces to huddle up to if one was cold. Though this was the hot season, and more so the fireplaces were just ambient mood setters for he patrons to spark all levels of intimacy. On this auspicious day, Iarann had found himself settled on a wooden chair near the back of the inn’s tavern. The heavily armoured man had been disarmed at the bar, voluntarily though the bartender may need a change of underwear after asking the violent nomad to remove his weapons. To emphasize his displeasure, Iarann would give the bartender a death glare every time he’d dare a glance back to where he was sitting. Sides from playing cruel mind games with the bartender, the oversized mercenary was making short work of the boiled chicken he had ordered. He would wash down the poultry with ale as he eavesdropped on conversation all about him. Taverns were the best place to gather information on all the goings on in the realm. Its wading through the bullshit that was tasking to get right down to what was fact and what was not or what ever was closest to truth that he could believe.
In the distance he noticed one of the wenches, a homely plump lass, gazing upon him with curiosity. It had been ages since Iarann had companionship of the flesh unless you counted violence then that was a ongoing venture. He gave the woman a lop sided smile, his attempt of invitation, but it must have had been gruesome in combination with his horrendously disfigured face and unkept hair that was poorly combed over the right in attempt to hide the scarring. The woman looked as if she nearly gagged and she quickly hustled away to some other task that took her out of eye shot.