Damthor kept his hood down, and his cape arranged to hide as much of his tinted skin as possible. He didn't normally hide what he was but most smaller towns seemed nervous when a half breed wandered in, adventurer and potential source of gold or not. But he was here on a mission, and unfortunately one part of said mission was missing as he cursed Fealwen his breath for managing to get lost when they reached the village.
He was just thankful the small village seemed to have a pub. Which...was closed. He sighed heavily, eyeing the crowds of partying people and decided to simply mingle as much as he could and hopefully most of the drunk revelers would leave him be and not ask too many questions. He sidled through the people, trying not to bump too many of them despite his size. At least at one point someone shoved a stein into his gloved hands, so he wasn't totally bereft as he kept an eye out for his friend and partner.