It was a day like any other. Except it wasn't! A small village was the focal point of a fairly nasty storm, packed with rain, lightning, thunder, and heavy winds. The homes rotted, nastily eroding, helped along that path by the storm, though time had already done its damage long before. Mud was dragged along the streets everywhere one walked, and the only decent building was where most of the town had gathered: the tavern. In many ways, this was a very typical town of Adlania. But today, it was about to be greeted by a very atypical guest.
The tinkle of the rain met with the metal the Musus wore, a pair of swords clasped upon handles on his back like an 'X'. The Musus wore a long, black, worn, torn and muddy cloak which covered the entirety of his body, though an opening in the cloak, one would see a long-sleeved black shirt, and over it a brown, leather vest. He wore a similar color of word, torn, black pants which was tied at the waist by some rope. Upon his hands he covered with grayish silver chain-like gloves, both bit for defense and comfort. His boots, as were expected, showed signs of wear, as the Musus had long relied on them along his travels. In fact, shoes were quite important to the Musus, as he often went through many pairs over the nature of his work. These had already most of the signs of the approach of the end of their life. A hood complemented the outfit, apart of the cloak which he wore. His eyes were fairly well hidden, but those who would try to see his face would see a fairly young Musus in his 20's, an expression of content on his face, and a pair of bright hazel eyes.
He was quite the unusual Musus, so much unlike his fellow Musi, but also unique among other species. But complementing his rarity among personality types among his species is his variety of his professions. By many different titles has Narr been known, none ever sticking for very long, though he took pride in nearly each of them. It would be difficult to ascertain the true purpose of the Musus, except to those who knew him well enough to have heard his tale in its entirety, and those select people are few in number. However, through all his travels in Adlania, he never quite managed to shake one title, and that was perfectly fine with him.
He was Narr Effeld, Adventurer.
Timing it to perfection, Narr burst through the doors of the tavern just as the lightning sizzles through the air, making the effect seem as though it was his appearing that garnered the release of static energy. He casually walked through, eyeing most of the patrons in the tavern before setting his sights on his target in mind: A sign which said of a gathering of which he would play a role, another small step towards his own secret lifelong goal. Two people already occupied the table, a hooded man and an elderly Musus, sitting across from each other. Narr gave the two a confident smile, and sat at a proportional spot in between them around the table.
"Well met, fellow adventurers!" Narr said brightly as he sat. "Narr Effeld. For you gold, at your service."