A robed figure walks towards the inn, his staff held in a burnt hand, his black robes obscuring most of his shape. he looked old, but in truth was only in his thirties... years of magic had taken their toll, and yet ironically he had the potential to outlive almost anyone. two yellow eyes glared out of his robe's hood, cold and calculating, the eyes of a serpent.
He enters the inn, taking in everything inside. He moves briskly towards Nucleon.