As I approach the old tavern I am greeted with the familiar stench of tawdry liquor and decaying wood, a staple of any village watering hole. The locals glare with suspicion, curious of what terrible deeds I am guilty of to be burdened with fine clothes and an unblemished guise. I am an outsider in their stinking patch of land, with no intent to stay. I hurry inside before anything foul can occur.