Draven Hrolf limped his way through the streets of Ketra, leaving a faint trail of blood behind him. He looked around for any tavern-like building where he could rest, heal, and possibly have a few beers. His rough hands were clamped to his side, where there was a large open wound. He removed his hands for a second to get a good look at the wound and winced in pain as he covered it again. He stopped on the side of the street to take a break, as limping all the way there had tired him out. He considered waiting for someone to come along and help him, but didn't think anyone would care to. He got up slowly and started limping again, hoping he would find somewhere to rest soon. He was tired and hungry from a long fight that happened just hours before.