[h1][center][color=blanchedalmond]Sir Ilvwenniel Yggristend[/color][/center][/h1]

An armored man had entered the tavern. His hood was up, concealing the upper half of his face, only revealing his chin up to half his nose. He was a rather clean looking man, his armor almost looking as if it were shining. All in all, he didn't fit the setting of the tavern, from his choice of dress to the way he walked. Whatever reason why he were here, it most likely that he was looking for something, something that would have to be here, of all places... Nevertheless, he marched toward the bar, taking one of the vacant seats, near the human, but not directly next to him. As he took as seat, he placed an arm on the table, his right arm. The gauntlet he wore on the arm had reinforced plating to an extent that it would seem awkward if he were to wield a sword with such an arm. Whoever this man, this warrior was, he was a strange one indeed.

[color=blanchedalmond]"A flagon of ale..."[/color] the man uttered, as he looked up to the bartender, his deep blue eyes peeking from the shadows of his hood. The man's voice had a certain... accent to it. He most definitely wasn't from here. His other hand shuffled inside a small pouch, a coin purse, tide to his belt. 

[color=blanchedalmond]"Please."[/color]