Nyxon, a six foot tall argonian with skin and scales as black as night slowly stepped into the tavern, dressed in what appeared to be mage robes with chunks of ebony plating set underneath some of the enchanted fabric. He has his hood up, his hands covered in purple linen wrappings with his finger tips showing. The robes themselves were a dark oak brown color, the ebony bits clearly black. The hood was the same color of the hand wrappings, so they wouldnt seem miscolored. He wore a wool scarf around his neck, most of it tucked into the robes. His boots were steel-cuffed, their enchantment merely to ward off the cold. He looked around, exhaling sharply through his nose. "By Sithis, this is...disturbing.." he said, sounding grossed out. He then looked to the old man, his fingers twitching. "I presume you had something to do in this...situation." he said, as if asking him instead of proclaiming it.