As Ellantrax slowly stirs awake, his body gradually comes to life, still groggy from a deep and restful sleep. His eyes open to the dim light of the smoky room, signaling that it is still the early hours of the morning, before the sun has had a chance to rise. Blinking a few times, he allows his eyes to adjust to the darkness and takes in the surroundings.

He finds himself in a spacious room with sturdy wooden walls that radiate a sense of comfort and security. Despite the tavern's age, it is well-maintained and clean, possessing a timeless charm that speaks of its many years of service to adventurers and travelers like himself.

Taking a moment to stretch his limbs, Ellantrax feels his muscles reawakening after a long period of inactivity and the numbing effect of the empty mead bottles from the previous night (now on the floor empty). As he sits up, he notices the wide bed he's lying in, surprisingly comfortable despite its rustic appearance. The temperature in the room is pleasant, a testament to the owner's care in ensuring guest comfort.

Shifting his gaze, he spots a fair-skinned hand resting on his chest, adorned with delicate, varnished long nails. It's clearly not the hand of a farmer or an adventurer, he jokes to himself. Though he could recall the events leading to this intriguing encounter with some effort, he doesn't dwell on it for long. It's not worth diverting his attention from the more pressing need to make sense of his jumbled and entangled maelstrom of thoughts, memories, and sensations.

The early morning quiet provides the perfect opportunity for focus and meditation, the chilly air and lingering night yin enhancing his inner self and increasing the efficiency of his invested time. He heads to the window overlooking the forest, opening it to breathe in the freshness and calming aroma. Determined to bring clarity to the confusion that has plagued him for so long, he regularly dedicates time to piecing together details from his past missions and trying to make sense of the few months of relative clarity amidst the overall confusion of his recent years.

Rising from the windowsill, Ellantrax feels energized after a restful night's sleep and morning meditation, a surge of vitality coursing through his veins. He quietly goes about his morning routine, deftly gathering his belongings and quickly but methodically checking them over with the keen eye of a seasoned adventurer.

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His dark tan studded leather light-armor catches the rays of the rising sun as he inspects it with a sense of pride and ownership. He gives the black smoked rivets a gentle tug, ensuring their snug and secure fit. Pressing his palms over the cured leather, he feels for any imperfections or weaker areas. Satisfied with its condition, he applies a bit of grease to the driest spots, keeping it supple and preventing cracking. He then moves on to the hardened leather lamellar layers, ensuring they are properly attached and allow for unrestricted movement.

Aware that the condition of his equipment can mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield, Ellantrax then inspects his weapons with loving care, as each master does with his tools. His scimitars and long knives glint as he runs his well-oiled finger along the blades to ensure they remain razor sharp. With a practiced eye, he checks for any nicks or signs of wear, passing a cleaning cloth along them to spread the oil coat and remove the dust, admiring their pristine state.

Completing his preparations, he takes a moment to appreciate the orderliness of his belongings. His bags and body pockets are meticulously organized, each item in its rightful place. A small chuckle escapes him as he knows that while some adventurers may consider this level of detail tedious or even compulsive, he views it as a mark of respect for the tools of his trade and the lives of his tea,.

With everything in order, Ellantrax slings his bags over his shoulder and heads towards the door. Before leaving, he places a small earring he crafted from chiseled horn dipped in gold on the night table, alongside a note expressing his gratitude and bidding farewell to the sleeping lady. Descending the stairs, he moves silently through the main room of the tavern, a dark figure unnoticed by the other guests who are either bustling with breakfast or noisly preparing to continue their own missions and travels.

As he crosses the threshold into the outside world, Ellantrax embraces his role and remains fully prepared for his mission. The noise of the tavern fades behind him as he steps onto the forest path ahead, ready to face whatever challenges the day may bring. With each stride, he carries the hopes of a successful outcome while secretly yearning for one of those rare occasions where everything falls into place according to plan.

the tavern Ellantrax is staying in [https://i.ibb.co/XYC1Pb2/tavern.png]