The door swings open, and in enters a man dressed primarily in blacks and blues - black breeches, black leather boots, plain black shirt with a more elaborately-designed blue shirt over it, black and blue bracers. His boots show sign of much travel, as do the rest of his relatively plain attire. Slung across his back is a fine-looking lute, and at his hip is a wide variety of weaponry: a coiled whip, a rapier, a shortsword, an axe. His hair extends to the middle of his back, tied back into a loose ponytail, a dirty brown in color; his bright blue eyes show signs of weariness from a long travel.
He glances about the inn as he enters, then bows slightly.
"Well, it's been awhile." He says quietly. His voice then sounds through the inn as he announces his presence. "Howdy, all, th' name's Troi Delmontes, an' I'm a tracker a sorts. Jus' got back from quite a long trip from a festival out east. Ya migh' know me as a lasher, an' I suppose I'm pretty good with a whip. If ya wanta know more er have need a my help, just ask."
With that, he meanders to an empty table near the bar and seats himself.