In once such establishment nearby that carried both food and drink, a tall, hooded man calmly sipped away at a well aged amber liquid. The musk of weary adventurers mixed with savory aromas from the kitchen. Warmth and light flickered from a low burning central hearth where many chose to sit near. It's dim rays struggled to illuminate the pale skin beneath the shadows of his cowl yet two glints of deep, emerald green peered over the sparse collection of patrons. Lye set his glass of single malt down on the worn, wooden table and leaned back in the crudely crafted booth. The establishment lacked comfort, but more than adequately provided the necessities. As he shifted his arms over the headrest to both sides, numerous scabbards pressed into his back. To most an uncomfortable feeling, his weapons always calmed and soothed him.

For this weary, tattered soul, a moment of calm an peace was much needed. His long venture of running an organization finally came to an end. The memories of good and bad lingered behind a dam supported through drink and refuge. Some may say he was an exile of his own making from the frigid North but he admitted the warmer climate provided a refreshing change.

"Might I get you another," sheepishly asked a female bartender. She looked no more than eighteen, a prime example of youth and charm.

His gloved hand lifted and waved once. The glass between them had more than ample contents to satiate his needs. The maiden nodded with a forced smile. With a serving tray tightly clutched to her chest, he turned and hastily made her way back behind the bar beside what Lye only assumed was her father. The grizzled, meaty oaf may as well of thrown daggers with his eyes. Someone with a lifetime of experience dealing with the people knew exactly who Lye was. Perhaps not the details, but the look alone confirmed "his kind" wasn't readily welcomed.

Not of much mind to Lye, however. To say that a man felt intimidated by ants at his feet adequately summed the degree of concern at the back of his mind.