The time period represented by the tavern is more similar to Ferelden's than dissimilar, and perhaps that's why Anders' mage robes don't look very different from what he usually wears. Instead of blue and silver Grey Warden armor, he slips through the crowd of people in lighter robes of a dark green.

Anders' first event isn't going so well. Although he likes a busy tavern as much as the next person, it's too busy in here for someone with mild claustrophobia, and his raging thoughts keeping him from settling anywhere comfortably for long. He rambles around the length and breadth of the tavern for a bit, twitchy nerves compounded by the press of bodies until he finally decides a peek outside might do him some good. Pounding rain and danger are starting to seem more appealing than staying cooped up.

Pulling on a thick wool cloak, he picks a path toward the door where a sharp-eyed woman stands sentry. "Is that look for me?" he asks as he fastens the cloak strings. If looks could draw blood, he'd need to do some emergency first aid on himself before heading out.