In a pub, in the outskirts of a large city, 3000 miles away from the region that his clan used to occupy.

Walking swiftly and lightly, in a way that an experienced assassin would look upon in approval, but to an inexperienced eye looked to be nothing strange, was a cloaked figure. The figures cloak was wrapped around their body in a way as to not let any outside eye see within; but if one could they would see a tall, slender man with a handsome face and a fit body, whose pale skin was in contrast to his hair, which, like his pupils, were as black as night. The only things about his appearance that were even remotely strange were his canines, which were gleaming white, were slightly elongated if one looked closely, and were razor sharp, and his irises, which were a pale gray-silver that could look blue if one wasn't paying attention.

The man walked along a dirt path, up to a pub called the Bubbling Mug, which was on the outskirts of the city of Rathwell. There was a dinging sound from the bell above the door as he walked in, and the noisy inside quieted down suddenly as he entered. He walked up to the counter and sat down, and said in a silky smooth voice; "I'll take a beer."

"Yes sir." replied the bartender, sliding a foaming glass over to him. The inside of the pub slowly began to fill with the sound of chatter again as the occupants lost interest in the newcomer.

"Hey, barkeep."