[Straylor Leonard]

Straylor wasn't one to be fond of stormy darkening. But just as well, he found himself caught amid the dark stormclouds and decided that any form of shelter was better than none. He didn't notice any hodded figures as many residents of Archdoon donned various hoods and headwear to shield themselves from the sudden downpour. And thus, another set of wet footprints led into the Anchors Away Tavern.

Running inside, Straylor was greeted with the familiar smell of sailors and seasalt. Neither was pleasant to say the least, though he preferred the odd dampness to being thoroughly wet in his fine clothes. Fine, that is, until just recentlly. His long jacket was now reduced to what looked like a dark bit of robes that were hanging qutie unpleasantly over his just-as-wet vest and poet shirt. His trousers were equally, if not more, wet. And his boots ... well, they squeaked as he made his way towards the barkeep. He was about to request for a room with a fireplace when his eyes managed to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure with a heavily cloaked woman.

The two were conversing and Elmaryia was just about to relinquish her pendant to the stranger. Strolling quickly forward, Straylor allowed himself to intercept the women as she strolled out the tavern. "Serale", he greeted her with a silght nod, "I see that you've met my dear Elmaryia...?" He grinned and tilted his head as he awaited her response.