He had nowhere to stay. He managed to find a cheap inn where the barkeep took enough pity on him to let him sleep in the corner (not near the fire, mind you!) in exchange for doing a little cleaning. He really must have looked like a priest of Gorum last night, but that was out of circumstance. Not devout worship. A shield for a pillow, his chainmail was his blanket. He clutched his sword tightly to guard against its theft. The shoddy wooden symbol of Gorum's sword lay beside him, not something he cares enough for to safeguard it while he sleeps. Despite the conditions, it was a one-night stay. He still has enough food in his pouch for a couple more days, and he's got some water. But he needs work if he's going to survive now.
In the morning, he starts making his way to Skyreach. Hunger grips his stomach, but he knows that he must ration what little food he has left. Passing the buildings, he does his utmost to keep his eyes fixed on his goal. He pays little attention to the things going on around him in the streets. As he approaches the crowd, he gets his share of looks. Perhaps its the heavy chainmail. Maybe the sword, shield, and symbol of Gorum. But most likely, it's the longing in his eyes that tells people why he's there. To him, the Pathfinders isn't about prestige or honor. It's a ship that will carry him wherever he must go to find what he's searching for. It's the doorway that leads to a world of pure freedom. And most importantly, it's the spell that will shatter his curse.
As he arrives, he hears the tail end of Rogar's spiel about luck. Stepping forward, he answers the question before Erol has a chance. "I can't think of anything better -or worse- than the favor of the gods. To some, it's a great blessing. To others, it's just a burden. But either way, there's no denying that it leads to glory unimagined. My name is Akiros. I come from Issia in Brevoy."
The half-elf wears his armor to its full, but keeps both sword and shield on his back. On his waist are two pouches, one of them stuffed with something lumpy, and the other is clearly filled with liquid. The only other thing he brings with him is the shoddy wooden symbol depicting Gorum's sword.
"We give to them what is theirs. They give to us what they will. Thus is has always been, and thus it will always be."