“Well ain’t this a sorry looking bunch.” Ezlan loudly muses to himself as he casually enters the nameless tavern with long confident strides. 
“Well, let’s just hope the ale is better than the atmosphere.” 
The Caerbean had an almost eager excitement in his eyes as he took in the rough riff-raff of the room. His lips rolled into a smirk as he eyed the wooden leg but no tangible jokes were ready to leave his lips, clearly though, they were steadily forming in his mind.

Making his way to the bar Ezlan leant on it as he eyed as much as he could of what was behind it. Curiosity either sated or running dry, Ezlan spun around, facing the room he addressed them all in his well practiced deep and attention demanding voice. 
“Any of you happen to be serving, or perhaps be the one to run this fine establishment?” He asked while looking around.

Ezlan got near enough straight to the point, not afraid to draw the attention of the near empty room.