Bjorstein

After wrestling with a spirit, Vaalea made her way to the Prancing Pony. Her normally clean boots were mud-caked for running in the swamps, she had many twigs pointing out of her messy hair and there were large bite marks on her throat that were still bleeding. Yet she didn’t seem to mind any of this while she strode through the town. By the time she arrived at the tavern she was so irritated by her ordeals, that her conversation with poor Bjorstein who just happened to stand there, consisted mostly of wordless snarling.