The night outside was cold and dark, the sky heavy with thick, threatening cloud. As winter drew nearer, the mornings became freezing, the shadowed hours lasting longer as a biting wind raked its away across Novus. Yet the merry glow of buildings in Delumine’s capital chased away the bitterness of the weather, or perhaps it was simply the liquor. But spirits were high as voice arose in an oddly harmonious barrage of noise as warmth emanated from the pale, brick building.
With the feeling of one returning home, Thaeron pushes open the wooden door with little aplomb, pausing only briefly in the entrance. Framed by the shadows curling in the night outside, his breath misting in the air with the frigid cold, the steed locates the bar. Ambling forward with an amicable gait, he makes a beeline for the bar, weaving oddly skilfully for an equine of his musculature between the tables and crowds. A number of eyes are turned to him, noting Bloodbane strapped across his back and frowning. But he plastered a jovial smile upon his lips, ignoring their glances and seating himself at the chipped, wooden bar. The oak smelt like ale and liquor, sticky to the touch but Thaeron only grinned at the familiar sensation and caught the tender’s eye.
A single shot of whiskey was slid across the counter-top toward him, the amber liquid swirling as Thaeron stopped it with a single tendril of his mind. Knocking it unceremoniously he relished the burn of the alcohol in his throat as he swallowed. From the uproarious din of voices and music, Thaeron could tell few eyes lingered on him and the fire-lit axe.
