Percival yawns dramatically as he opens the door to the village tavern, "The Nightingale". As he strides into the bustling building, all eyes turn to look at him. With a smug grin, he gives a quick nod. As usual, the crowd continued chattering, laughing, and drinking. His hand rests on his sword that sat on his hip, always at the ready. The bartender waved him over, already having his usual order of beer ready. He sauntered over, seeing a new face on a stool. "Well, aren't you a real looker?"
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