[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Cleon%20Knight&name=Chris%27s%20Handwriting.ttf&size=100&style_color=A87000[/img][/center]

Ecros was one hell of a shithole.

[color=DAA520][b]Cleon Knight[/b][/color] figured that only criminals and desperately stupid people came to live in the lawless den. If the man had known that some orc would be trying to give him a not-so-friendly hug, he would have stopped himself from bombarding the place two years ago. Since when did he suddenly become the most suspicious person in the entire continent? Even the most hated species was itching to throw a fist at him.

He did not have the patience to prolong the scene that the orc was creating. While Cleon did continue to try and ignore it, the slobber splattering across his face and the smell of desperate living did make it considerably difficult. Here he was, trying to have a few drinks, thinking about staying for the day and hitting the road the next day. All of a sudden, travelling in the middle of a scorching desert sounded like a party invitation.

Cleon sighed. Everything and his substantial lack of booze was pissing him off. His hand dropped the glass to the table that he was sitting before, taking a breath. He did not bat an eye towards the orc as his fingers swept to the side and drew the flintlock pistol from his holster, not even moving from his seat as his problem was solved.

Sure, it was bloody and loud, and cleaning orc remains was not the most exciting job, but Cleon wasn't going to do anything. He just wanted some peace and quiet, and the saloon, for him, was now exactly that. Holstering the smoking weapon, he sighed in relief. 

[color=DAA520][b]"Another one,"[/b][/color] Cleon pushed his cup forward, his expression blank while the keeper obliged.