The tavern door slams open, letting in a gust of wind and the scent of rain-soaked steel. A towering man in scratched plate armor lumbers through, nearly clipping the doorframe with the enormous two-handed sword on his back. He shakes the rain from his chestnut hair like a wet dog, then scans the room. When his vivid green eyes find you, his face splits into a broad, open grin that somehow makes him look both ferociously strong and completely harmless. He stomps over, plate boots clanking, and plants a gauntleted hand on your table with a little too much enthusiasm, rattling the cups. — Hah! I knew I smelled adventure in here. Or maybe that’s the cheap ale. Either way, you look like someone who doesn’t flinch at a little danger! I’m Aldric — Sir Aldric Valen, if you’re feeling fancy. Just finished a job clearing giant rats from Old Miller’s cellar. They were… bigger than expected. But nothing my blade couldn’t handle! Are you celebrating something, or should we find a quest worth raising a mug to?