He hadn't come here because he particularly liked being in cities. He hadn't even come here to find work. The reason Marcos had come to Ketra was to satisfy that burning desire he'd had for over a decade now: to travel, to roam, and to see as much as he possibly could. From a little hill just off the main road leading to the city, he stood leaning against his staff, the hood of his cloak thrown back. His tri-colored eyes took in the sight of the cities walls, and the roofs and towers of the buildings within. With a slight smile and a sigh, he pushes himself back onto the road, his staff thumping lightly each time it hit the earth.
The guards at the gate barely even acknowledged his existence as he approached the gate, and only paid enough attention to him as he came close to see that there weren't any apparent weapons. Since he didn't look particularly dangerous, they let him pass into the city, and promptly forgot about him. It was fairly common for a traveler to come by the western road, after all.
After passing through the gateway, Marcos turns to look back at the road he'd come by, again letting out a nigh-indiscernible sigh before continuing his trek deeper into the city. He wasn't interested in staying in any of the larger, flashier inns situated near the gate. He knew that those inns would be comfortable to stay in, but would be much more expensive than his meager funds would allow. Thus, he continued deeper into the city, finally coming to one of the smaller inns that doubled as one of the local taverns. He looks around cautiously for a moment to see if anyone's watching, then lets his grip on the staff loosen. The wood and metal stave shimmers, and then disappears into wisps of smoke and shadow that quickly dissipate. He pushes open the door of the tavern, and winces at the blast of noise and smoke that greets him. He shakes his head with a smile as he walks over to the bar, and begins talking to who he hopes is the innkeeper.
"Sir, do you have any rooms for rent?"
The innkeeper, for that was indeed who it was, looks up at the man addressing him, and then nods before turning his attention back to the glass he was cleaning.
"It'll be two silvers a night. Paid up front. Food's extra." He says gruffly.
Marcos reaches into one of the pockets on his vest, pulling out a small handful of coins. He sorts through them, pulling out two gold coins and laying them on the counter. He puts what's left back in his vest, and looks back up at the innkeeper.
"That's for room and board for the next two weeks." He pauses for a moment as he collects his thoughts. "You wouldn't happen to know of anyone in town needing odd jobs done, would you?"
