Tondrek
With a bit of difficulty, the door to the Tavern Sharn opens; framed within is a semi-comical sight. A male half-orc, dripping wet from a drizzle passing through, leans against the door frame, obviously carrying a load too heavy. His cloak, a tattered affair, is draped over a bulging leather pack and what might be heavy steel shield; various artisan tools are strapped in an akimbo fashion on the pack, balanced in part by a light crossbow dangling from the othe side. The rest of the half-orc's common traveler's clothes are greasy and loose, having obviously been slept in, hiding any other armor or weapons he may be carrying.
The half-orc stumbles in an looks around a moment with watery green eyes. He pushes aside his greasy black hair absently, and then, with a dumb grin, noticed Brews. Ambling over excitedly, he waves a childish waves and says, "Hi, forgey forge! I'm Tondrek and you're neat!"
After being directed to someplace to sit, the overburdened half-orc then fishes some random bits of metal and string from one have his copious pockets and begins idly fiddling with them to pass the time.