7th day of Spring, 510
Entering through the gates had been quite un-eventful. Slowly walking though the crowd on his, quite knackered, horse. Atoro was frantically looking for some kind of place to stop. He had heard of places where you can go to simply sit and drink, sometimes eat. With this in mind the young Vantha looked for a building that seemed likely.
There was a problem with this. Since he grew up in a tent in the middle of the freezing lands up north, Atoro was not too familiar with these... Odd stone structures. Noting that people drifted in and out of them, and one place got a lot of attention. A sign with a horse rearing on the front with the word 'tavern' on the front. Tavern... I think I know that word. Now, what was translation again? Frowning in concentration, it took a while for him to remember. Smiling as the memory presented itself, Atoro figured it out.
Coaxing Monox, his Frostmane, forward. Atoro finally realised what was strange about the place. People. The amazing amount of people that were there. Even more than outside of Syrlias! Trying his best to ignore the feeling of fear, he kept on moving towards the taverns entrance. Found some stables close by and let them deal with getting Monox settled in.
Taking in a deep breath, eye colour continously shifting in jittery nerves, Atoro walked towards the door. Then stopped. Frozen in the doorway, blocking the patrons from moving in and out. Oh dear...