Thick boots clomping wearily on the hard road outside then suddenly a towering half-orc warrior walks through the door with purpose. His well tanned skin proudly brandishes both old scars and fresh wounds. His thick black hair is tied back in a pony tail and he scrunches his brow as his eye adjusts to the light. A few beads of sweat form along his forehead, and with the motion of his next step it rolls it's way down his face and along a wicked locking scar that crosses from his brow to cheekbone over his left eye before being wiped away. The man's left eye, milky white with blindness, follows along in vain as its counterpart glances around the tavern. He strides to the barkeep and places a few coins down on the well-worn, wooden bar and asks for the best ale in the house.

*wanders in and blows the dust off a bar stool*

Is this place even open?

*looks around, trying to see if there is any activity in the back*

Kriss the ogre slides off his stool and hits the ground, still sleeping.

~SE++

The half orc raises an eyebrow as he glances at the snoozing form of Kriss the ogre, noting the strange behavior of the bar patron. He drinks his drink slowly, savoring the flavor of each draw, and flexes his shoulders to be rewarded with several small cracks from his back. He sighs slightly with relief and continues to enjoy his drink.