Habits from his days as the son of farmers have stuck with him a too firmly as his breath stunk of rotten garlic in an attempt to add a distinct smell to his appearance. However, to be fair to his mother and father, they never told him to he needed a distinct smell to make friends, "I could try radish next time...if their excuse of being full wasn't a lie...why would they lie? They are a pure, kind guild - perhaps I was just too slow to act."
Speaking of being slow, Poropo was aging faster than he wanted. Being hairless and shiny from oil made him appear ten years younger, but his ripe age of 66 could not be removed from his aching joints and feeble demeanor. At least he had his mind left as he thought about going to a different country to try there instead of giving up completely on the idea of being in a mage guild.
Walking up to the first person he lay his eyes on, Poropo attempted to straighten his back with a pop and clasp his hands together in a gentle manner to seem friendly as he asked for help, "Hello young man, may the Iron Deity bless your way." Poropo bowed enough to feel some pain in his aging back but straightened himself and continued, "Ahk!- I mean...I need help finding the port, might you be able to help me?"