A sturdily built man walks into the bar, wearing a bag and leaning on a spear like they're all he owns in the world. He pauses, sweeping the room with his eyes, then heads to the bar.
As he passes, the patrons can feel as much as see his weariness, and when he sits at the bar his relieved smile is obvious in his posture. He puts down his bag heavily, and leans the spear against the bar next to him.
He waits patiently until he is attended by the barkeep, then orders quietly.
[sblock=descriptive]Serris is dressed for travel in worn riding clothes, but the spear holds countless battles in its past. The metallic crunch of chain when his bag hit the ground betrayed further sign he wasn't a simple traveler. There is a mild pressure of ill-contained psychic energy around him.[/sblock]
As he passes, the patrons can feel as much as see his weariness, and when he sits at the bar his relieved smile is obvious in his posture. He puts down his bag heavily, and leans the spear against the bar next to him.
He waits patiently until he is attended by the barkeep, then orders quietly.
[sblock=descriptive]Serris is dressed for travel in worn riding clothes, but the spear holds countless battles in its past. The metallic crunch of chain when his bag hit the ground betrayed further sign he wasn't a simple traveler. There is a mild pressure of ill-contained psychic energy around him.[/sblock]
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